“It should’ve been parked in Hugh’s garage.” A touch of scolding is in Hutch’s tone.
Blake puts her hand on his arm as if to say it’s okay. “Wherever it was, it’s here now. Isn’t that the important thing?”
“Except someone was in the house.” Scar’s deep voice is ominous, and Hana’s eyes blink wide.
“That’s a little terrifying. Should we have Uncle Hugh stay with us a few days until we’re sure it’s not… someone bad?”
Her dark blue eyes flicker from her husband to me to Hutch, and my brother shifts in his stance. “Hugh has a bodyguard. I can call the sheriff and see if they’ve had any reports of breaking and entering around town lately. We could put them on alert to what happened.”
They’re doing everything right, and my restlessness has reached an all-time high. “I’ve got to head back to campus for the night.”
“What?” Hana’s the first to complain. “We just got back. You can’t leave.”
“I’ll be back tomorrow.”Maybe. “I just remembered… I forgot to do something.”
My brother and Scar are watching me like they know I’m full of shit, but I kiss Hana and Blake’s cheeks and jog out to my waiting Jeep.
Before I get on the road, I send one text.Miss L, Report to my office at 8 tonight. Don’t make me come find you. -Professor
21
Reanna
Campus isempty when I arrive, and I don’t stop until I’m locked in my dorm room, completely alone. I sit on the bed and carefully take out the book that’s been burning a hole in my messenger bag the entire drive home, the entire trip across campus, to here.
It’s almost anti-climactic when I open the cover and music doesn’t play, lights don’t shine from the pages. To the average observer, it would appear to be a simple list of names with numbers in columns beside them, a basic accounting record.
The difference is I know all of these names by heart, starting with the most significant,Petrovich, owner of all the accounts and recipient of the deposits.VP-Kis written small, in ink on the inside cover, which means Victor Petrovich kept the records. Simon gave the orders.
Sliding my finger down the rows, I read their assets, their deposits, their withdrawals, and their payments. Sidorov, Devney, Ivanov, Lourdnikov, the names continue, page after page, spanning a period of more than twenty years, until my heart stops at the lettersZP, Zander Petrovich.
Natasha thinks I don’t know who he is, but I’ve been sneaking into the office at Gibson’s for years, searching through documents, reading and trying to find this information. I’ve seen the birth certificates, and I know what I have in my hands.
The dates line up, along with the wordTerminated. It’s an enormous sum of money, property, assets, and it was simply moved in two bullets and two strokes of a pen toVPandSP. Right here in his own ledger, he had the nerve to record what he did.
Victor Petrovich was a monster, but he was the uncontrolled, ragey type of demon. Simon Petrovich was Satan, calm, always in control, the leader.
I know Zander was part of it, whether by choice or by coercion. I don’t know if he was trying to get out, trying to get clean. I only know we were hiding, living a different life far away from their evil. We lived quietly, simply. We had a happy home, full of love, until they gunned him down in cold blood, before my eyes.
I have the proof he was part of it now, the proof they terminated him and took everything he had, including me. All that’s left is to prove they lied. They were thieves stealing their brother’s birthright, and as much as I hate it, I have to go back to New York to finish this.
Lying on my side, the memories of that last day wash over me again, playing with my nesting doll, lining up all the pieces, the grandma and the mamma and the sisters, all the way down to the little baby no bigger than a grain of rice. I was so terrified I’d lose her. Then the shooting broke out, and I scooped them up so fast.
I ran as hard as I could on little child legs, but when I got there, it was too late. He was gone, and I was taken like so much collateral to that enormous house in Minsk then to New York. I was property, a pawn in their game. I’m still not sure why they didn’t kill me, too. Is it because I was a little girl? Is it because they thought I’d never find out? Is it because they believed I was too weak to matter?
Closing my eyes, I remember his dark hair and ice-blue eyes. He had the kindest smile. He taught me to sand and paint the furniture he made. He taught me to hunt and to track and to build a fire. I can still feel his large hands guiding my small ones, his patient words as I learned. We would sit, and he would tell me about my family of strong men and women, conquerors who helped settle that brutal terrain. He told me I was like my mother, fierce and protective, a fighter who loved with all her heart. He told me she loved me. He told me I could survive anything.
My phone buzzes, waking me, and I realize I fell asleep.
I’m not in the mood for Natasha’s crap, so I leave the device on the bed and walk to the window, gazing out at the lavender twilight settling on the horizon. I’m cold, and my chest aches. I want to see Dirk.
Resting my forehead against the windowsill, I try to think of a way I could ever see him again. We didn’t get a proper goodbye, but I don’t want that. I never want to tell him goodbye. I still cling to that dream like a subconscious wish.You don’t have to fight alone anymore…
If only that were true, but it’s not.
My heart hurts, and I know the way my story ends. I’m always alone.
Opening my laptop, I book a plane ticket to New York departing early in the morning. I know I won’t be coming back here, and sadness is a hollow space in my chest. The confirmation comes through, and I send the boarding pass to my phone. It’s when I finally pick up the device and see two notifications.