Chapter 46 United
Lena found her in the conservatory the next morning.
Anya had come to think, breathe and to let the weight of the binder settle into something she could carry, she was standing by the orchids when Lena appeared in the doorway.
"I'm leaving today."
Anya turned. Lena was dressed in a simple trousers and cashmere coat, her honey-blonde hair pulled back. She had no jewelry on, she was just a woman with a suitcase waiting in the hall.
"I know, Dima told me."
Lena stepped into the room, her heels clicking on the stone floor. She moved to the orchids, touching a petal with one finger. "He asked me not to tell anyone what I saw."
"About us."
"About everything." Lena's eyes flickered to Anya's, sharp and knowing. "He's planning something I don't know about and I don't want to know but I've known him long enough to recognize the signs."
"I asked him to let me help." Her voice low. "He said no, saying it was too dangerous, that I'd already been through enough, that he wouldn't drag me back into his father's games." She laughed, “he's always been like that, protecting people by pushing them away thinking it's kindness."
"And you let him push you away."
"I let him." Lena turned from the orchids, facing Anya fully. "I let him because I couldn't stay. This place, his father, the secrets, the constant waiting for something terrible to happen was killing me. I would have stayed anyway, because I loved him but he made the choice for me. He ended it and I let him."
Anya's chest tightened. "Why are you telling me this?"
Lena was quiet for a moment. Then she stepped closer, close enough that Anya could see the fine lines at the corners of her eyes, the faint shadows beneath them.
"Because I know what he's going to do. He's going to finish this, whatever it takes, and he's going to try to do it alone. He's going to push you away, the way he pushed me away, because he thinks that's how you keep people safe." Her voice hardened. "Don't let him."
Anya's hands clenched at her sides. "I'm not you."
"I know." Lena's expression softened, something almost like warmth breaking through the perfect composure. "You're stronger and that's what he needs, even if he doesn't know it yet." She reached out, touching Anya's arm. "Don't let him do it alone cause he will if you let him."
The words settled into Anya's chest, heavy and warm. She thought of Dima's hands flat on the desk, the way he'd held her like she was the only solid thing in a world gone liquid, she also thought of the binder, twenty-three years of death, and the way he'd said together like it was the first word he'd ever learned.
"He won't be alone," she said.
Lena studied her for a long moment. Then left gave a small but real smile, "Good."
She walked toward the door, pausing at the threshold. "Take care of him, Anya and also take care of yourself cause you're going to need each other."
Then with that she left.
Anya stood among the orchids, Lena's footsteps fading down the hall, the weight of her warning still pressing against her ribs.
—--------
The house felt emptier, the day Lena left.
Nikolai's voice still boomed through the halls, Evelyn drifted through rooms like a ghost while Maxim watched from corner but something was missing like a presence.
Anya found herself looking for Lena in the breakfast room, at the dinner table and in the sitting room where she'd sat with her coffee cup and her knowing eyes cause the spaces she'd occupied were hollow.
Dima moved through the house with the same controlled grace, attended meals with the same polite attention. But Anya saw the way his gaze lingered on empty chairs, the way his jaw tightened when someone mentioned Lena's name.
She caught him in the library that afternoon, standing by the window, looking out at the grey gardens.
"You miss her."
He didn't turn. "I miss who she was before everything, when we were young enough to think we could be happy."
Anya crossed to stand beside him, not touching. "She told me to take care of you before she left."
He turned then, something flickering in his eyes. "She do that always, trying to protect me, even when I didn't deserve it."
"You deserved it." Anya's voice was firm. "You deserved someone who saw you, not the mask and someone who stayed."
His hand found hers, warm and solid. "I have that now."
They stood together, watching the winter light fade, the gardens turning to shadow. Anya could feel the weight of the binder in his office, the twenty-three years of evidence and the end that was coming.
"Lena said you'd try to do it alone," she said quietly. "She said you'd push me away."
His grip tightened. "I've thought about it ahundred times, waking you up in the middle of the night, telling you to run, taking the drive and doing what needs to be done without you in the line of fire."
"Why didn't you?"
He turned to face her, his hands framing her face. "Because I'm selfish, I've spent my whole life alone, and now that I have you, I can't let go."
She leaned into his touch. "Good because I wasn't going to let you."
He gave a soft slow kiss against her lips before pulling back. When he pulled back, his eyes were bright.
"Family dinner tonight, my father announced it this morning."
Anya's stomach tightened. "What's the occasion?"
He reached into his pocket, pulling out a card which was an heavy cream paper with gold embossing. She opened and read it over his shoulder.
Nikolai Volkov requests the pleasure of your company at a family dinner celebrating his new partnership with General Grigori Smirnov.
Her blood ran cold. "General Smirnov, the arms dealer."
"The one my father has been laundering money for and the same person who supplies the weapons that show up in conflict zones across three continents." Dima's voice was flat. "He's bringing him into the house, our home."
"When?" she asked.
"Tonight by seven o'clock." He slipped the card back into his pocket. "He's not just celebrating a partnership but showing us what we're up against which was like a warning us."
Anya looked at the window, the gardens darkening and the lights flickering in the house.
"He's going to lose," she said. "He doesn't know it yet. But he's going to lose."
Dima pulled her close, his arms around her, his heart steady against hers.
The dining room was transformed that evening.
Anya had never seen it like this. The long table was set with things she'd never seen before, crystal glasses that caught the candlelight and flowers arranged in towering centerpieces. Servers moved between the chairs with silent efficiency, their faces carefully blank.
She stood at the doorway, her hand on Dima's arm, watching the room fill.
Irina arrived first, her dark hair loose, her dress a slash of emerald green. She took her seat without looking at anyone, her face composed, but her fingers drummed against the tablecloth which shows the only sign of tension.
Evelyn drifted in next, her smile too bright, her hand trembling as she reached for her wine glass. She was wearing a gown Anya had never seen, silver and elegant, but her eyes were glassy and unfocused.
Then Nikolai entered.
He was in his element here, commanding the room without a word. He moved to the head of the table, his steel-grey eyes sweeping over his family and skingdom behind him was a man Anya had never seen.
General Grigori Smirnov was smaller than she'd expected. Compact, grey-haired, with a face that might have been handsome once. He wore a simple dark suit, no medal or uniform, nothing to mark him as one of the most dangerous men in the world.
But his eyes his eyes were flat and cold of a man who had looked at death so often it no longer registered.
Nikolai took his seat, gesturing for the General to sit at his right hand. "Family," he said, his voice warm,"tonight, we celebratea new partnership and future." He raised his glass. "To General Smirnov, the work we will do together and the legacy we will build."
The General's glass rose slowly. His eyes moved around the table, taking in each face, lingering on Anya for a moment too long then he smiled.
"To the future."
Anya's hand tightened on Dima's arm. She felt him shift beside her, felt the tension in his body and the barely controlled rage beneath the surface.
The dinner began while the servers moved, at the head of the table, Nikolai Volkov smiled at his family and toasted the man who had killed more people than any of them could count.