Everything comes to a standstill. The doors open on the east side of the building as my grandmother walks in— proud and elegant as ever—accompanied by familiar faces: my father’s old guards and a few fresh gentlemen, too.
“Is that…” Ivan’s voice trails off.
“Zoya Asimova,” Tatyana gasps.
Lev gives Leo a hard look. “Whatever you have in mind, you’d better not, boy. The terms of this conversation have just changed.” He pats the gun in his waist holster for good measure.
And his men move closer, too, just to get the message across.
31
Anya
“Zoya,” I whisper.
It’s as if I’m dreaming. My skin tingles all over. I want to feel safe because she has always inspired safety, but the sharp smell of Leo’s cologne is a sore reminder that I am far from safe. At least I managed to throw a wrench at his plans.
“Zoya Asimova,” Ivan Abramovic says, slowly turning to face her as she approaches. “I never thought I would see you again. I thought you were dead.”
“Have you ever met a drowned duck or a dead devil?” Zoya chuckles dryly.
Wearing a long grey dress and wrapped in a black overcoat. Her silver hair is pulled into a tight, elegant bun. Pearls and diamonds glisten around her neck and dangle from her ears, and the men flanking her wear custom tailored black suits. She glides across the concrete floor, her heels clicking with each step. She is the epitome of grace, with the fierce beauty of a Russian woman, even in old age.
“You remember Sergei and Andrei, I presume?” she says, nodding at her guards.
Behind them, a dozen more men follow, making the hall more crowded than before. The air feels thick with a brand-new kind of tension and uncertainty. Death or salvation? There’s no telling how this will end or who will turn against whom.
“It’s good to see you,” Tatyana declares.
“Likewise, darling, I’m glad women are still the heads of our big family,” Zoya says. “If it were up to only the men, we’d have a war on our hands every other Tuesday.” She pauses and gives Lev and the other heads a slight nod. “Gentlemen, I understand there is a council meeting happening here.”
“Yes,” Ivan replies. “Though we didn’t imagine you’d join us.”
“I didn’t either,” she says. “My plan was to enjoy my retirement in peace and quiet.”
Leo Sokolov sneers. “Then turn around and walk away. You don’t belong here anymore.”
“Mind your tongue, boy,” Lev warns him again.
“As long as I breathe, and as long as I bear the Asimov name, I belong here,” Zoya replies, then gives me a soft look. “Are you alright, child?”
I shake my head slowly. “No.”
“Why is my granddaughter here, unprotected and in the hands of the man who killed her entire family?” Zoya snaps. “Where is the justice? Where is the principle of upholding a peace we all worked so hard to obtain?”
“I’m trying to keep that peace,” Leo says.
“No, you’re trying to get away with murder and theft,” Zoya hisses. “And I have a few things to say about that. The council is obligated to hear me out before any decision is made.”
Leo scoffs. “This is ridiculous.”
“I don’t want to marry him, and he has no place taking anything from the Asimovs,” I insist.
“All I want—” Leo tries to cut in, but Ivan raises a hand to silence him.
“I’d like to hear what Zoya has to say.”
“She’s obsolete.”