Page 32 of Tattooed Heart

Her words will keep me going. Her fight will fuel mine. But I need to get out of here. Before Sandy's investigation lands her Morozov's crosshairs again.

I have to survive and make it home.

Aleksandr shows up two days later. Peter comes with him.

The guards shuffle their feet, uncertain whether to salute or flee. I don’t blame them. My brother has that effect on people, making them question whether they are in the presence of a businessman or an executioner.

I sit in the visitation room, chained at the ankles and wrists, while Aleksandr stands there in a crisp navy suit like he hasn’t lost a single hour of sleep since they dragged me out in cuffs. The contrast isn’t lost on me. I’m in prison orange, and he’s in tailored wool that costs more than most guards make in a month.

His eyes drag over me. Not with pity or sympathy. Just calculation and focus.

I know that look. He wears the same one when planning operations, analyzing risks, and determining where to allocate resources.

“You look like shit,” he says, taking the seat across from me.

“You would too if every asshole in here wanted your head on a tray,” I reply, keeping my voice low, mindful of the guard stationed by the door.

The fluorescent lights overhead accentuate the angles on Aleksandr’s face that make us recognizably brothers despite our differences. While I have always been the one people underestimated, quieter, and more calculated, Aleksandr wears his power openly, daring anyone to question it.

Peter sits down beside him, briefcase in hand, already talking. His wire-rimmed glasses reflect the light as he leans forward. “We've submitted a motion to the judge. A formal request for an evidentiary review.”

I raise a brow. “Meaning?”

“Meaning if the judge accepts, the prosecution will have to present all evidence against you for independent review. If the audio recording, witness tampering, and financial ties hold up, we might force their hand to drop the charges before trial.”

My heart rate quickens, but I keep my expression neutral.

“Might,” I echo, my voice flat.

Peter nods. “There's no guarantee. The judge is known to be cooperative with the DA's office. But we've flagged inconsistencies. It's movement in the right direction.”

I lean back in the metal chair, the cuff chain rattling softly. The cold metal bites into my wrists.

“Sandy,” I say, not a question but a demand. “How is she?”

Aleksandr's expression softens so subtly that only someone who's known him his entire life would notice.

“Stubborn,” he grumbles. “Fierce. Unstoppable.”

I almost smile.

“And the baby?”

“Growing strong. Healthy, from what the doctor says.”

I nod, relief washing over me. Whatever happens to me, Sandy needs to be safe. Nothing else matters as much.

“She's been busy,” Aleksandr adds. “Gathering evidence. Making connections.”

My shoulders tense. “And youlether?”

“You think anyone can stop her?” He raises an eyebrow, a ghost of amusement crossing his face. “She's as headstrong as you are.”

The chains rattle as I lean forward. “Keep her safe,brat.Whatever it takes. If Morozov finds out what she's doing?—”

“We've got her under protection,” he cuts me off. “At the estate. Guards. Security systems. She's not alone.”

The knot in my chest loosens slightly. The Avilov estate is as close to a fortress as any private residence can be. She is at least safe if she is surrounded by family and security.

---