Page 88 of Shadows of the Past
"Niko!" Roman barks, snapping our younger brother out of whatever trance my appearance put him in. I guess I did drop in out of hell, not out of the sky.
"Go ahead," Roman says, already getting under my skin.
I glance at Luna. She gives me a subtle nod, urging me to give them answers. I owe them nothing, but I hear myself speaking anyway.
"My name is Maksim Rastovski, and I'm your brother."
The resemblance is obvious—he’s probably pieced it together already, but I can see the reality land like a punch.
"How have I not known about your existence until now?"
Julia returns, carrying mugs of coffee, and I relax a little at the sweet aroma filling the air. She always wanted this for me, this connection. For years, she urged me to reach out, but she understood—her story’s not so different—why I couldn’t risk painting this family with Ivan’s target.
"Thirty-two years ago, Maria Borisov found out that one of the children she was going to have had a heart defect. Alexei Borisov decided he couldn't have a child with such a weakness, so he placed me in an orphanage in Moscow and returned to his wife and healthy child," I say, my voice flat, mechanical, because there’s nothing left to feel about any of it.
I made peace with my fate a long time ago. Having Julia in my life feels like fate’s way of apologizing for every bit of hell it threw at me.
"You seem healthy," Niko says suddenly, snapping me out of my thoughts. I glance over at my younger brother. He’s pulled himself together, and there’s something dangerous in his eyes. I’d always heard he was the easygoing one—charming, a flirt—but right now, I see the family legacy in his gaze.
"I didn't say the heart defect was inoperable, just that the great head of the Borisov family didn't want this weakness in his bloodline."
I watch the realization spread across their faces, and that’s enough for now.
"Who paid for your operation?"
"Maria Borisov."
I hope that’s the end of this interrogation because all it does is remind me I was never wanted—not even by my own family.
Right then, my phone buzzes. It’s one of my men, checking in regarding Roman’s business.
"Why did you need Luna?" my twin asks, as expected. But Julia and I have things to settle with Ivan’s death, and he’s got his own mess to handle.
"Luna will tell you about it, but I guess it’s about time you left," I say, my tone flat, hoping he catches the subtle hint.
"We’re not done talking,brother."
If I could roll my eyes at his voice, I would.
"Agreed, but one of your weapons warehouses just exploded and I think you should see what that's about."
Something shifts in his eyes, like a puzzle piece finally snapping into place.
"You're the one who sent me the anonymous tip about the truck driver," he says, sounding surprised.
When I texted him two weeks ago, it was to push him to look into things on his end because too many warehouses were blowing up. The Irish want a piece of this arms business, but something doesn’t add up, and so far, I haven’t had the time to dig deeper.
He wants more answers, but for now, we agree to meet at his office tomorrow, hoping things might finally settle down.
When everyone’s gone, I turn to Julia and feel the exhaustion settle on my shoulders. Akim sent word: Ivan died of natural causes. Something fundamental inside me feels empty, like it evaporated. Revenge was my whole reason for being, and now it’s done. There’s still work ahead, probably the start of a new war, but this time, we have the power. The choices are finally ours.
"I’m going to start getting everything ready so we can head back to Moscow tomorrow afternoon," Julia tells me, but before she leaves, she stops and faces me. Her eyes are as warm as the first day I met her. When her hands touch my skin, I close my eyes.
"Are you okay?" she asks.
It should be an easy question to answer, but I don’t know if I am. I knew I’d never get the satisfaction of seeing Ivan’s face at the end. I knew I’d have to keep my distance, to make sure my alibi held. But now that it’s over, I don’t know how to feel. Julia seems to get it, all the weight from meeting my brothers and everything else piling up. For someone who spent years keeping emotions locked away, this avalanche in my chest is too much.
"Hey, I’m here," she whispers, pressing her forehead to mine. "Just breathe."
