Page 19 of Rafi

She steps up to me, her eyes guarded, the flicker of unspoken questions playing across her face. Then, in an instant, realization dawns, and it’s as if a lightbulb flickers to life, the weight of understanding settling over her.

“How did you even find me?”

“That’s not important.”

“Isn’t it? I beg to differ,” she argues, letting the weight of her words hang between us. For a brief moment, something flickers in her eyes—a mixture of intrigue and defiance. Then she squares her shoulders, her expression hardening once more. “You’ve got two minutes. Start talking.”

12

TAYANA

Igrant Rafi Gatti an audience solely to uncover his intentions and protect my enterprise. The fact that he managed to track me to this shelter is unsettling enough. Not even my father’s bodyguards—the ones he insists accompany me everywhere—know about this place. It’s a deliberate choice—a declaration of independence as I pursue my own goals, ambitions, and vision for changing this corrupt world. Everything I stand for runs counter to the very things my father vows to protect.

I lean back in my chair, my mind racing as I wait for Rafi Gatti to elaborate on why he’s here.

“I’m looking for a girl.”

“Aren’t we all?”

He shoots me an irritated look and I roll my wrist, telling him wordlessly to continue, pledging not to interrupt him again.

“Igor Aslanov,” he says, and I feel like the breath is knocked out of me. This was the last thing I was expecting. My uncle’s name is a ghost that I thought I’d buried, but it’s back now, rattling its rusty chains. “I hear he’s your uncle.”

He speaks as though this is explanation enough.

My father has always been larger than life, his presence dominating every room he enters. Anton Aslanov isn’t just a Bratva boss; he is a force of nature. My earliest memories of him are both awe-inspiring and terrifying. He’d sweep me up in his arms, his deep voice rumbling with affection one moment, and the next, he’d bark orders at his men, his tone sharp and unyielding. I’d learned early on that love in my family came with conditions, and loyalty is the highest currency.

Then there is Igor, my uncle, my father’s half brother. If my father is the storm, Igor is the shadow. He’d always lurked on the edges of my childhood, his presence oily and unsettling. Uncomfortable. I never really understood why. My mother had always warned me about him, though. She’d say,“He’s my Alrich, Dochen’ka.”Her voice would drop when she said it, as if saying the name alone was enough to summon some dark memory.“Everyone has an Alrich,”she’d continue, her gaze distant,“and your uncle Igor is my Alrich.Igor only values what he can control;don’t let him think he can control you.”

My mother. The thought of her stings like an old wound. Beautiful and fragile, my mother had been a bird trapped in a gilded cage, her wings clipped by my father’s power. I had adored her, but I’d also resented the way she had let herself be consumed by my father’s world. When she died, my resentment turned into resolve; a promise to myself that I wouldn’t end up like her—a prisoner to the Aslanov name. But ultimately, it was my father who took the decision out of my hands, casting me aside, a bygone from another era.

I’m caught in the maze of my past when Rafi’s voice pulls me back to the present. “Tayana?” I look up at him as he stands leaning against the desk, watching me carefully, as though I’m a curiosity he’d like to dissect.

“What’s your interest in my uncle?” I ask him.

He sighs, pushes off the desk and shoves his hands in his trouser pockets as he comes to stand in front of me.

“A family friend went missing a few months ago. Trafficked, we believe, in a black market operation.”

My heart beats at a hundred miles a minute as his words float through me and wrap around my mind.Too close. Too close. This is too close to home.I’m enraged. I’m bitter. I’m damn near murderous as I try to connect what he’s telling me with the business being conducted on the other side of my door. I won’t allow anyone, or anything, to lead me astray from my plans and the work I do here at the shelter.

“What does this have to do with Igor?” I ask him.

“I believe I saw Maxine in the company of your uncle a few days ago.”

My mind stutters. My heart stops beating. His words float around in my head on repeat.

He saw Igor? Here?

“That’s impossible. Igor never leaves Russia. Unless you saw him there?”

I have to know.

“I saw him right here in this city. And Maxine was sitting right next to him.”

I think I’m going to be physically sick.

“Here?” I clarify, although to my own ears, it sounds like I could be a little hysterical. “That’s impossible.”

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