Chapter 41 Marlena
The safe house was nothing like Viktor's villa.
It was small, cramped, with peeling paint on the walls and furniture that looked like it had been salvaged from a thrift store. We'd driven for almost an hour before Katya pulled off onto a dirt road that led down to this tiny cottage perched on a cliff overlooking the Mediterranean. The sea stretched out endlessly in the darkness, waves crashing against rocks far below.
Katya killed the engine and was out of the SUV before Nikolai or I could move. She circled the cottage quickly, checking the perimeter with the efficiency of someone who'd done this a thousand times before. Then she unlocked the front door and gestured for us to follow her inside.
The interior was sparse and functional with just the basics. A small living room with an old couch and a wooden coffee table, a kitchenette in the corner with a two-burner stove, a bathroom barely big enough to turn around in.
There were no decorations, no personal touches, nothing that suggested anyone actually lived here. It was a place designed for hiding, not living.
Katya moved through the space systematically, locking every window and drawing the curtains shut. She checked the locks twice on each one, tested the door handles, peered through the peepholes. Her movements were practiced, automatic, like a ritual she'd performed countless times.
I stumbled to the couch and collapsed onto it, my legs finally giving out completely. The worn cushions sagged under my weight but I didn't care. My whole body ached and my face throbbed where Viktor had hit me. I could taste blood still, metallic and wrong. My hands were still stained dark red and I stared at them like they belonged to someone else.
Nikolai moved to the window, his back straight, his jaw set.
He pulled the curtain aside slightly and looked out at the darkness, his hand resting on the window frame. His other hand was still on his weapon, ready. Even here, even now, he was scanning for threats, calculating next moves. Blood was spattered across his white shirt but his breathing was controlled, steady.
"We're clear," Katya said, finishing her security check. "For now."
"How long do we have?" Nikolai's voice was rough but firm, back in control.
"A few hours. Maybe less if Viktor has better tracking than I think." Katya turned to face us, crossing her arms over her chest. "We need to move again before dawn."
Nikolai nodded once, sharp and decisive, then finally turned from the window to look at his sister. Something passed between them, some unspoken communication that came from years of shared history.
"You weren't supposed to come," he said.
"You needed backup." Katya's mouth curved into a small smile. "Besides, I told you Viktor was mobilizing. You didn't listen."
"I listened. I just didn't expect you to show up in the middle of a firefight."
"When have I ever done what you expected, brother?"
The tension between them eased slightly and Nikolai's shoulders dropped half an inch. He moved to the kitchenette, grabbed a bottle of water from the small fridge, and drank half of it in one go. When he turned back, his eyes were clearer, sharper. The shock of seeing Katya in person was wearing off, replaced by the cold calculation I was more familiar with.
I stared at both of them with wide eyes, still trying to make sense of everything. Nikolai knew his sister was alive. He'd known this whole time and never told me. Another secret, another lie in the mountain of lies he'd built around me.
Katya looked between us, her expression unreadable, then let out a long breath. "We need to talk," she said. "Marlena needs to understand what's really happening here."
She moved to a wooden chair and sat, leaning forward with her elbows on her knees. The single lamp cast shadows across her face, making her look even more like Nikolai, the same sharp angles and intensity.
"Our mother didn't kill herself," she said, looking directly at me now. "Irina Volkov is alive. She's been in witness protection for fifteen years, living under a new name in Switzerland."
The words should have shocked me but I was too numb to feel anything. I just stared at her, waiting for more.
"She didn't betray our father out of weakness or guilt," Katya continued, speaking faster now with urgency in her voice. "She did it to save us. Dmitri Volkov was planning to kill Nikolai and me. His own children. He was going to eliminate us to tie up loose ends, to make sure no one could ever testify about what he'd done."
Nikolai stood motionless by the kitchenette, his face carved from stone, but his eyes burned with something dark.
"Mama found out about the plan," Katya said. "And she made a deal with Viktor Rousseau. She would testify against Dmitri if Viktor helped her fake her death and get us to safety. That was the arrangement. Viktor kept his word about protecting us, but he kept other things too. Like Elena. Like Marlena's mother."
My head snapped up at that, my attention suddenly sharp and focused despite the fog in my brain.
"Elena was leverage," Katya said, her voice softer now. "Insurance to make sure Irina kept quiet and stayed in hiding. Viktor kept Elena prisoner, drugged her, moved her around constantly so no one could find her. He let everyone believe she died in prison three years ago, but it was a lie. He faked the death certificate, bribed officials, made it all look real."
The room spun slightly and I gripped the edge of the couch to steady myself.
"Your mother is alive," Katya repeated. "Viktor has kept her locked away all these years, but she's alive. And we're going to get her out."
Nikolai moved then, crossing to where I sat and crouching down so we were eye level. His hands were steady as he reached for mine, pulling them into his lap and looking at the blood still staining my skin.
"I should have told you," he said quietly. "About Katya. About Elena. All of it."
"Why didn't you?" My voice came out hoarse, broken.
"Because I thought if you knew your mother was alive, you'd do something reckless to save her." His grey eyes held mine. "And Viktor would have used that against you. Against both of us."
"You had no right—"
"I know." His grip on my hands tightened. "But I made the choice anyway. To protect you, even if you hate me for it."
I wanted to pull away, to scream at him, but I was too tired, too overwhelmed. The room felt smaller and hotter now, the air too thick to breathe properly.
Katya kept talking, her voice steady and urgent, explaining about networks and safe houses and plans to extract Elena from wherever Viktor was keeping her. She talked about their mother Irina, about witness protection and CIA assets and deals made in darkness fifteen years ago. She mentioned Viktor's compound, his security systems, the rotating locations where he kept his prisoners.
But I could only think about my own mother, locked in some room somewhere, drugged and helpless and alone.
About the years she'd lost, the life she'd been denied. About how close I'd been to her tonight at the villa without k
nowing, how I might have walked past the very room where she was being held.