Page 82 of Lethal Alliance

“There’s nothing you can do to save them from Orlov, of course.” Ilyan’s voice continues, cold, flat, and utterly impersonal. He might as well be delivering a shopping list. “It’s too late for that. I don’t get between Orlov and his little games. But it’s not too late for you and Nikolai. That’s why I brought you here. If you follow my orders like a good girl, you will see him again. You can have the future you dreamed of, together, with enough money to live out the rest of your lives in luxury. Maybe, if you lie well enough, you can even convince Nikolai that the story you told him was true. He never needs to know that you kidnapped your own daughters in cold blood for nothing more than money.”

Inger sways, her face white. Ilyan is still gripping her arm. The hand from which her ring finger was cut hangs just beneath his grasp, the stump covered in a neat bandage.

Even the dressing looks like it comes from a designer label.My thoughts are wild, disjointed. I can’t make sense of anything.

I stare at Inger blindly, feeling as if the earth itself has shifted beneath my feet. “Mama.” My voice is little more than a croak. “That’s not true, is it?”

But somehow, I already know it is.

“It wasn’t supposed to be like this.” Her voice is low, despairing, and she finally looks at me directly. But there’s no humility in her face, no apology, only defiance. “I just wanted enough money to start a new life.” Tears spring into her eyes. “Roman took you all away from me, turned you against me.”

“I’m Roman’sdaughter.”The anger catches me by surprise, comes without any warning, but once I start speaking, it’s like a torrent that can’t be held back. “And Roman didn’t take us. You gave us away, Inger. A long time ago, even before Papa died. Masha doesn’t even know you well enough to call you Mama. I had toteachher to call you that.”

My breath hurts in my chest, and the anger I can’t control feels as if it’s been sitting inside me forever. “Did you ever love us?” I stare at her furiously, refusing to give her the satisfaction of crying. “Did you ever care about us at all?”

“Of course I did!” Inger wipes a lone tear from her face angrily. “But I wassixteen,Ofelia. I was a child when I got pregnant with you. The same age you are now. What was I supposed to do, just stop living my life? I didn’t want a second child, did you know that? I’d been offered a modeling contract back in Miami, a whole career. But Mikhail couldn’t have that, oh no.” Her face falls into the familiar, resentful lines that have made me feel guilty my whole life. “He wanted the perfect bratva wife. Stay home, fuck him when he deigned to visit, and get fat with baby after baby. What did it matter what I wanted?”

I shake my head, barely even aware of the others in the room through my anger. “What about Mickey, then? Is he even Papa’s son, or did you sleep with someone else again?”

“How dare you!” Inger spits the words furiously. “Of course he’s Mikhail’s son! Like I had a chance to meet anyone back then. I barely even managed to see Nik—” She breaks off abruptly, twisting her head away.

“Nikolai.” I finish the sentence for her. “That’s why he was always at our house, isn’t it? I used to wonder why he spent so much time there, when he didn’t even like us. You were sleeping with him all that time.”

“Nicky loves me.” She flings the words at me defiantly. “He’s the only one who has always been there for me. He helped me get a modeling contract and brought Yuri’s yacht over so I could have a proper holiday.”

I’m dimly aware of Vilnus and Ilyan both standing back, watching our exchange with something like amusement, but I almost don’t care. Maybe it’s the horrific week of pain and fear, or maybe it’s a lifetime of being the only adult in our tiny family of three, the one person to whom Mickey and Masha looked for reassurance, for something like maternal care.

Whatever the cause, I’m so blindingly angry that I can barely breathe.

“I didn’t sleep for years after Masha was born. Did you know that?” My voice shakes unsteadily, the words coming from a place of pain inside me that I didn’t even know existed. “You left for a modeling job when she was barely three months old, not that you’d been there much before that. You were too busy trying to get your body back in time for the contract you had coming up. Papa was always working, and none of the nannies could make Masha settle. It was me who got her to take the bottle. Me who woke up when she cried. I was the only mother she knew, and then, when Papa died, you tried to take her away from me.” My tears break through in a rasping pain that hurts my chest.

“’Felia.” Masha’s little arms reach up around my neck, and I hug her fiercely, holding her against my body like a talisman. “Don’t cry, ’Felia.”

“I’m okay,myshka.Don’t worry.” I pat her back mindlessly, burying my head in hers, trying to gain control of myself.

“I can’t fight you, Ofelia.” Inger’s voice is thin and plaintive. “You’re too strong for me. You always have been, ever since the day you were born. You’re just like Roman. So cruel and selfish. I remember standing over your crib when you were a baby and seeing him look up at me through your eyes. I knew you were his. And I knew even then that I didn’t like you. I knew you’d be exactly like him, and I was right—you’re cold and unfeeling, like Roman is. You’ve never cared about me at all, and now you’ve poisoned your brother and sister against me.” Her lower lip quivers, and she starts to cry in earnest, fat, pathetic tears that roll down her face and drip onto the floor. “That’s why I have to look after myself now. If you want to know who’s to blame for all of this, Ofelia, it’s you. You and Roman caused all of this.”

I stare at her over Masha’s shoulder, utterly incredulous.

“You’re trying to blame this onme?”

Inger sniffs dismally. “It’s not my fault, Ofelia. None of this is my fault. It’s Roman—if he’d just been kind to me—but he just shut me out. You all did, like I was nothing. What was I supposed to do?”

I look between her and Ilyan. “So you’re going to just leave us here, to these men?Don’t you care what happens to us at all?”

She gives a helpless sob. “I can’t help you now, Ofelia. It’s too late. But you’ll be okay, whatever happens. You’ve always been so much stronger than me.” Her face twists into a petulant scowl. “And anyway, Roman will come for you. He won’t be able to help himself. He always has to be the hero.” A flash of spite crosses her face. “Although I doubt he’ll survive this time.”

Which means that neither will we.

I stare at her in complete disbelief.

Part of me wants to keep arguing with her. But another part, the piece of me who just spoke up for myself for what feels like the first time in my life, instinctively knows there’s no point. Not just because my words will have no impact on Inger—but because I don’t want to waste them on her anymore.

Inger has never been a mother. Not to me. Not to Mickey. And certainly not to Masha.

She’s brought all of us nothing but pain, confusion, and turbulence for as long as I can remember.

“Say goodbye to your mother, girls.” Ilyan looks bored. “It’s the last time you’re going to see her.”

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