Page 83 of Shadows of the Past
A dry smile twists my lips. It figures. We're dealing with Maksim’s twin brother, after all. If Roman has even half of Max's instincts, an idiot like Tim wouldn't last long without raising suspicion.
The problem is now we have to approach Luna cold, without Tim as an introduction. That complicates things.
I message Max with the update on Tim, waiting for his next move. One thing is clear: that device needs to be shut down, and fast. Aleksandr has been managing Ivan’s legitimate fronts in the States for two years, but the shipments keep coming—children, stamped with Ivan's invisible brand, arriving in ports worldwide.
We’ve had to pull back on rescues, play it safer to avoid exposure. The weight of those we leave behind settles heavy on us all, a silent accusation. Ilya’s shadow war with Ivan helps ease some pressure, but stupid risks are still stupid risks. Losing Vlad ten months ago crippled our front line. We can’t sustain this, leaving desperate kids scattered across continents to face their own private hells.
Maksim enters the house, a storm cloud gathering behind his eyes, darker than usual.
"I want Luna watched. Daily. I need to know the right moment for that conversation."
His impatience mirrors my own; I feel it humming under my skin. I’m so close to my sisters, but one misstep and everything crashes down.
We don’t know this woman. Her file paints a picture of quiet normalcy—a family pursuing the American dream after immigrating. But there’s this small black stain: an ex-boyfriend who doesn’t seem to let go.
A brief sting of sympathy pricks at me for pulling her into this storm, but I shove it down. There's no room for softness now. We need her.Or...do we?
"You know, we could find someone else from the company," I suggest carefully.
Max stops, arms folding across his chest, his gaze fixed on me. "No. She’s perfect."
A faint smile tugs at my lips. Of course. "Because she's the link to Roman."
He stiffens at the mention of his twin but remains silent.
"It's normal," I add softly, "to want that connection."
He turns to the window, his gaze lost in the dense forest bordering the house. "Is it strange," he murmurs, his voice distant, "that I feel like I know him? Even though we haven't spent a single day together?"
My own chest constricts. It’s not strange. It’s the most natural thing in the world, but for someone raised without affection, starved of it, the feeling must be alien. I know he had Vera, Akim, Zoya, and they loved him in their fractured ways, but that love was forged in fire, leaving scars that walled off his heart.
"No, Max. It’s perfectly normal."
I close the distance between us, wrapping my arms around him from behind, pressing my cheek against the solid warmth of his back. I breathe him in, rosemary and that deep, woodsy scent that feels like him. I wish I could melt into him, hold onto this, never lose it.
Because I know killing Ivan is just the beginning. The first step toward freeing Maksim, maybe, but only the first.
Mom always told me to listen to my heart's whispers. Now, cocooned in the scent of pine and sage filling the quiet room, a chill snakes down my spine despite his warmth. Mom always said to trust those whispers...and mine are screaming that the storm hasn't truly hit yet.
Chapter 32
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Maksim
I realized early on that patience isn’t my strong suit. I never had that higher virtue, the one that lets you analyze, wait, and strike when the time is right. After another week in Chicago, I feel like I’m about to snap.
For years, I’ve been telling myself to wait. For years, I tried to comfort myself thathisturn would come. The monster who forced me to lock myself away inside my own head whenever anyone touched me would pay. But now that we’re this close to claiming that damned inheritance, whatever patience I had left is gone.
I need Luna to shut down that device and I need it now. If she doesn’t, I might start throwing grenades just to vent my frustration.
Rationally, I know my nerves are shot because of Akim’s call: he spotted Ivan in the garden, having lunch with a so-called “friend.” The thought of him living comfortably, not bleeding for every soul he’s wrecked, makes something inside me boil.
“We’re talking to Luna today,” I snap at Julia, not bothering to hide my edge.
And that’s another problem—my path to Ivan’s death apparently has curly hair, glasses, and,lucky me, my twinbrother glued to her side. Of all the women in the world, he noticed her? I watched Roman drift through life ignoring everyone, barely glancing at women. Now he’s hauled Luna into his world and keeps her close.
I wanted to storm in and drag her out, but Victoria’s in that house. If anything happened to her during a grab-and-go, I’d never forgive myself. So I waited.
