Page 16 of Broken Embers

My stomach knots violently. I have to find her. I have to bring Sabrina home to me, no matter the cost.

I cross the room in three long strides and wrench open the back door, letting the icy air slam into me like a punch to the chest. I stand there, breathing hard, trying to pull the rage and helplessness back under control before I break something I can’t fix.

That’s when I hear the sharp clip of heels on the wood floor behind me.

I turn to find my aunt, Galina, storming toward me, cheeks flushed, eyes flashing with the kind of fury I’ve only ever seen when I was a kid and got caught stealing my father’s cigars.

Without a word, she shoves a thick envelope into my chest.

“This just came from Moscow,” she snaps. “From the acting Dragunov elder.”

I tear it open with fingers still stiff from the cold, my eyes scanning the heavy parchment. It’s written in formal Russian — the kind you use when you’re about to slap someone across the face with a velvet glove.

We are displeased.

Your disrespect toward the Dragunov legacy is an insult to our ancestors.

You have been in Russia for a month and haven’t paid your respects.

You have not mourned Vasily Dragunov.

You have not honored Irina Mirochin.

You are summoned to Dragunov Village to discuss the future and re-cement our alliance.

My stomach drops. I glance up sharply. “Vasily’s dead?”

Galina nods grimly. “A year ago. I just found out myself that he died of heart failure.”

I blink, processing that. Vasily Dragunov wasn’t just an elder; he was a living relic of the old ways. The man who kept the Dragunov Village fiercely loyal to the Mirochin name even after my family nearly destroyed them,

“And who the fuck is this...” I skim the letter again. “Agafon? I don’t remember Vasily having a grandson.”

“He didn’t,” Galina says tightly. “Agafon’s his nephew. Standing in as the elder until Ruslan comes back.”

“Ruslan?” The name itches at the back of my mind. “Irina’s older brother?”

“Yes.” My aunt nods. “Vasily’s eldest grandson.”

“Didn’t he disappear years ago?” My brow furrows. “I don’t think I’ve ever met him. He wasn’t even at Gavriil and Irina’s wedding.”

“He was studying,” my aunt informs me. “He didn’t disappear, he’s some hotshot Moscow attorney.”

“Figures!” I snort. “Where is he then?” I look at Galina. “Why are we being summoned by the stand-in elder?”

Galina shrugs. “That is exactly what I asked when I called to tell them I would go to the village on your behalf as you’re attending to urgent business.”

“Ah!” I nod. “That’s why you’re so angry. This Agafon pissed you off?”

“You have no idea! That little snot is only thirty-five, and he had the gall to speak to me like he did. I think the Dragunovs are starting to step out of line, twisting who answers to whom!” Her chin rises and eyes narrow to angry slits. “They need to be reminded who is in the seat of power in the dynamic.”

My brows shoot up. “Wow, this stand-in elder really pissed you off.”

“He talks about disrespect…” She seethes. “He disrespected me. I had no idea Vasily had passed away, no one told us, and it was not long after his death that Gavriil…” Her voice catches, and her eyes tear up. “That we lost your brother and his wife.”

“His wife, Irina, Vasily’s oldest granddaughter, whose marriage to Gavriil cemented the alliance,” I remind her. “They lost her too, and not long after their beloved Vasily, it seems.”

“That is no excuse to speak to me the way he did,” Galina pressed. “And the Dragunov’s never sent their respects over Gavriil.”

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