Page 153 of Stolen Empire
I follow, watching the way her shoulders have relaxed slightly.
The practice helped.
Not just with the weapon, but with her nerves.
She needed something to focus on besides the walls closing in around her.
Inside, we sit across from each other at the table.
I pour two glasses of water, sliding one toward her.
She drinks half of it in one gulp, then sets the glass down.
"Rolan called this morning," I tell her. "While you were sleeping."
She looks up, her expression wary.
"What did he say?"
"He's been making calls. To what remains of your father's family. Lyovik's allies—the Turov family and others who owed him debts."
I lean back in the chair, watching her face.
"He's been telling them about you and the fact that you're alive. Most of them didn’t know you even existed."
Her hands curl into fists on the table.
"And what did they say?"
"They want to meet you. They want proof that you're who we say you are. Probably a DNA test or something." I pause, choosing my words carefully.
"But they're interested. The Turov family especially. They owe a blood debt to the Morozovs. If you claim your name, they'll honor it."
She's quiet for a long moment, staring down at her hands.
"I'm not a Morozova."
"You are," I tell her.
"Whether you knew it or not. And this is a good thing, Katya, a very good thing."
"I never asked for this," she says softly and her head droops again.
I can't imagine what she's feeling right now at all.
All of this having been thrust into her lap must be traumatic, maybe an identity crisis.
"No, but it's yours now."
I lean forward, my elbows on the table.
"The Radiches know what you are. They're going to use it against you and all of us. The only way to survive this is to claim it first.To stand with us and use your name to bring your father's allies into our fold."
Katya grips the water bottle in her hand then slowly twists it around and around.
I watch the skepticism in her eyes and the way she goes inward to her own thoughts.
It physically pains me to see her like this.
