Chapter 40 Marlena
Strong hands grabbed my arms and yanked me backward, away from Viktor's grip.
I stumbled, my legs barely working, but the hands held me steady.
"Move!" A woman's voice, sharp and commanding. Katya.
She had Nikolai by his other arm and was dragging us both toward a side door I hadn't noticed before. Her grip was iron, unbreakable, and she moved with the kind of efficiency that came from years of training. Nikolai wasn't resisting, just letting himself be pulled along like a puppet with cut strings.
My head was still spinning from Viktor's blows and everything felt surreal, like watching myself from a distance.
The gunfire continued behind us but muffled now, further away. We burst through the side door into cool night air and suddenly we were in a garden, running across perfectly manicured lawns between flowering bushes that smelled like jasmine.
Katya moved fast, too fast, and I struggled to keep up in my heels. My ankle twisted on the uneven ground but her grip kept me upright, kept me moving forward.
Nikolai ran beside us in silence, his face blank, empty, like someone had switched him off. I'd never seen him like this before, so completely disconnected from everything around him.
A black SUV sat at the edge of the property with its engine already running. Katya shoved us toward it, opening the back door and practically throwing me inside.
I hit the leather seat hard, gasping, my ribs protesting. Nikolai climbed in after me with mechanical movements, still silent, still somewhere else entirely.
Katya slammed the door and vaulted into the driver's seat in one fluid motion. The SUV lurched forward before she'd even fully closed her door, tires screaming against gravel as we shot down the long driveway.
I grabbed the handle above the window to keep from being thrown sideways as she took a sharp turn without slowing down.
The villa disappeared behind us in seconds, swallowed by trees and darkness. I could hear sirens in the distance, getting closer but not close enough. Katya drove like a woman possessed, taking corners at speeds that should have flipped us, weaving through narrow Monaco streets with precision that suggested she'd memorized every route.
I sat in the back seat, my whole body shaking uncontrollably. Adrenaline was crashing through my system and making my teeth chatter despite the warm night. My hands were still covered in blood from the guard I'd stabbed, dark and sticky, starting to dry. The knife was still clutched in my right hand and I hadn't even realized I was holding it. My knuckles were white around the handle.
Katya's eyes found mine in the rearview mirror and I stared back at her, trying to make sense of what I was seeing. This woman was supposed to be dead, had been dead for fifteen years according to everything Nikolai had told me. But here she was, very much alive, driving us away from a firefight like it was just another Tuesday night.
She looked so much like Nikolai that it was unsettling. The same sharp cheekbones, the same intensity in her eyes, though hers were darker, harder somehow.
Her short black hair was slicked back from her face and she wore all black tactical gear that made her look like she'd stepped out of a military operation. Which, I suppose, she had.
Nikolai sat beside me in complete silence and hadn't said a single word since we'd left the villa. He stared straight ahead through the windshield, his jaw clenched tight, his hands resting on his thighs. Blood was smeared across his white shirt from the fighting but I couldn't tell if it was his or someone else's. His breathing was steady, controlled, but something in his posture suggested he was barely holding himself together.
I wanted to say something, to ask him if he was okay, but the words stuck in my throat. What could I possibly say? Your dead sister just saved our lives? Are you having a mental breakdown? Because it looked like he was.
Katya took another sharp turn and the SUV's tires squealed in protest. We were heading away from the coast now, up into the hills where the roads got narrower and darker. No streetlights here, just our headlights cutting through the blackness. Trees pressed in on both sides, creating a tunnel of shadows.
"You're both in shock," Katya said, her English perfect but heavily accented. "That's normal. Breathe. You're safe now."
Safe. The word felt laughable. Nothing about this was safe.
"Who are you?" I managed to get out, though my voice sounded strange, disconnected.
"You know who I am." Katya's eyes met mine in the mirror again. "Nikolai's told you about me, yes? Or you found the photos he keeps hidden."
"You're supposed to be dead," I said.
"I know." A small smile crossed her face. "I'm very good at being dead."
Beside me, Nikolai finally moved. His head turned slightly toward the window, his jaw working like he was trying to speak but couldn't quite manage it. His hands curled into fists on his thighs, knuckles going white.
I looked down at my own hands and realized they were still shaking, still covered in blood that wasn't mine. The knife felt heavy now, wrong. I couldn't believe I'd actually stabbed someone, had felt the blade sink into flesh and muscle. The guard's scream still echoed in my head.
Katya drove in silence for another minute, taking turn after turn through streets I didn't recognize. We could have been anywhere. Monaco was small but in the dark, everything looked the same.
Then she spoke again, her voice softer this time, almost gentle.
"Your mother is alive too."
The words hung in the air like a physical thing, heavy and impossible.
The knife slipped from my numb fingers and hit the floor with a metallic clang that seemed deafening in the quiet car.
My mother. Elena. Who'd died in prison three years ago according to every official record I'd ever seen. Who I'd mourned, who I'd cried over, who I'd thought was gone forever.
Alive.
"What?" The word came out as barely a whisper.
"Your mother," Katya repeated, her eyes in the mirror watching my reaction. "Elena Rousseau. She's alive. Viktor has kept her prisoner for years, but she's alive."
The world tilted sideways and I couldn't breathe, couldn't think, couldn't process what she was saying. My mother was alive. Viktor had her. Had kept her locked away while I thought she was dead, while I'd grieved and moved on and sold myself to save Luka.
"Where?" I managed to choke out.
"That's what we need to find out." Katya took another turn, faster now. "Viktor moves her frequently. Keeps her drugged, compliant. But my sources say she was at the villa tonight."
I'd been in the same building as my mother and hadn't known. I had been feet away from her while fighting for my life.
Beside me, Nikolai's hand found mine in the darkness. His fingers were cold, trembling slightly, but his grip was firm. Anchoring. He still wasn't looking at me, still staring straight ahead, but his hand held mine like a lifeline.
The car sped through dark streets, leaving Monaco behind, heading into the hills and valleys beyond. Away from Viktor, away from the villa, away from every
thing that had just happened.
The car speeds through dark streets into the night.