Page 145 of Shattered Cradle (Makarova Bratva Duet)

But when I try the fourth door, my heart clenches.

It’s locked.

“Oh, God,” I whisper.

I step back from the door, terrified of what I’m going to find on the other side. There’s no reason for this door to be locked when all the rest are open.

But when I think about it, if I were to hide something, I would make sure to hide it in plain sight without all the fanfare. There are no guards stationed at the doors. Nothing to suggest that anything is hidden up here.

If it hadn’t been for Mia’s intel, I would never have come up here. And even if I had, I’d never have suspected there was anything important to be found here. I would’ve looked right past it without thinking twice.

I move towards the door and press my ear to the wood. I don’t hear anything.

“Hello?” I whisper. But even the whisper feels loud. “Is anyone there?”

When I get no answer, I try again. This time, louder. “Hello?”

“Olivia.”

I gasp and whirl around. Yulia’s delicate silhouette is at the end of the broad hallway, backlit by the light from the stairwell.

I clutch at my stampeding heart. “I… I didn’t hear you come up.”

“What are you doing, dear?” she asks urgently, moving swiftly towards me. “You shouldn’t be up here.”

“What’s behind this door?” I ask.

“Olivia—”

“Please,” I ask, grabbing her hand. “Yulia, I trust you. Just tell me… what’s behind this door.”

She sighs. “I wish I could tell you, honey,” she murmurs. “But I don’t know either. My son doesn’t tell me everything.”

It’s blindingly obvious from the look on her face that she suspects what I suspect. “What do you think, though?”

She glances away from me. “I don’t like to speculate.”

“Make an exception. Just this one time.”

She looks up. The conflict in her eyes is heart-wrenching. She wants to be loyal to her son, but she’s battling with her own conscience.

“Yulia…”

“All I can say is that, whatever is behind this door, he doesn’t want anyone knowing about it.”

“All the more reason we should find out what’s behind it, right?”

Yulia shuffles on her feet uncomfortably and then pulls out a jangling ring of keys from the pocket of her oversized coat.

“I made copies of every single key to every single door in this house,” she explains softly. “Back when I was in charge of things. Some might call it paranoia, but I like to think of it as foresight.”

“Does Aleks know?”

She shakes her head. Hope and fear kindle in my chest.

“Open the door, Yulia. We have to find out what’s on the other side.”

“What if it’s bad?” she asks tentatively. “Are you prepared for what we might find?”

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