Page 34 of Tattooed Heart

I should be resting. That’s the line Talia has been feeding me since breakfast.Rest, sis. Drink tea. Let the lawyers do their jobs.But she should know better by now. I’m not built for passivity. Not when Dimitri is still locked up behind bars, and not when I learned the truth is buried in files no one else is willing to dig through.

The estate's library has become my war room. Folders and papers surrounded me like landmines, each waiting to detonate under the right pair of eyes. I am sitting cross-legged on the rug, a forgotten cup of cold coffee at my side, and Lev's decrypted spreadsheet pulled up on the laptop screen above me. My back aches from hours of hunching over documents. Still, the discomfort is nothing compared to what Dimitri must be feeling.

I turn another page in a Petrov shell contract. I feel that low thrum of anticipation begin to burn in my belly. It is faint but familiar. I’m close to something. I can feel it.

Talia's voice cuts through the silence behind me.

“You're nesting in a crime scene,” she huffs, stepping into the room with a soft thud of bare feet on hardwood. She is wearing one of Aleksandr's oversized sweatshirts and carrying a bowl of fruit like a peace offering.

“I'm working,” I insist without looking up. “And you're interrupting.”

She drops onto the floor beside me and sets the bowl between us. “You've had six hours of sleep in the past two days. That's not working. That's spiraling.”

I finally look at her. “You ever try resting when the person you love is locked in a concrete cage for a crime he didn't commit?”

Her eyes soften. “You think I don't get it? I lived through this too. With Aleksandr. With the kids. I know what it feels like to carry panic around in your bloodstream.”

“Then stop treating me like I'm fragile.”

She sighs and picks a slice of pear from the bowl. “I'm not. I'm treating you like my sister. Who also happens to be pregnant and might be pushing herself too damn hard.”

“I'm fine,” I mutter, sliding another folder onto my lap.

“You're lying,” she replies calmly. “And you suck at it.”

I let out a slow breath and slump back against the wall. “He's running out of time. Morozov already tried to have him killed twice. Peter's doing everything he can, but we both know the court system isn't built for men like Dimitri. It's built to keep them buried.”

Talia leans forward, resting her chin on her knees. “So, what are we doing here? Playing detective until something gives?”

“No.” I reach for the flash drive on the desk and hold it between us. “I found something. A transfer Petrov routed through a logistics shell tied to a holding company in Belize. There's a matching entry in the estate ledger with a forged authorization from someone who doesn't even exist.”

Her brow lifts. “You're saying you have proof that Petrov paid off the witness.”

“I'm saying I have a thread,” I correct. “And if we pull hard enough, the whole damn tapestry might unravel.”

Talia doesn’t smile, but her eyes brighten with pride, resolve, or something more complicated than either. “You always did have a thing for finding trouble.”

I give her a tired smirk. “And you always had a thing for dragging me out of it.”

“I still do. But this time, I think I'll just sit back and watch you burn the place down.”

Her words settle over me like a warm blanket. We didn't come from love. We came from loss and chaos and a dozen foster homes with locks on the fridge and hands that reached for us in the dark. But somehow, we became family. We clung to each other through every storm. And this is no different.

I reach for her hand and give it a gentle squeeze. “Remember that night at the Morgans’ house? When I found those bank statements in his desk?”

Talia's face softens with recognition. “You mean when you nearly got us kicked out of the only decent placement we'd had in years because you were convinced Mr. Morgan was embezzling from his company?”

“Hewasembezzling,” I insist. “The numbers didn't add up.”

“And you were seventeen with a hero complex and too much time on your hands.” Talia shakes her head, a fond smile playing on her lips. “But yes, I remember. I also remember staying up all night with you, helping you put those papers back in perfect order, so he'd never know we'd seen them.”

“You were so mad at me,” I chuckle.

“I was terrified,” she corrects, her voice dropping to a whisper. “Not of getting caught. Of losing you. I was afraid they'd separate us if we got kicked out.”

“But you still helped me,” I say softly.

“Of course I did. You’re my sister.” She tucks a strand of hair behind my ear, a familiar gesture between us. “Even when you're being stubborn and reckless and completely infuriating, I'll always help you.”

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