Page 177 of Stolen Empire
She stands slowly, helping her mother to her feet, then turns to face me.
Anzhela looks at me too, her eyes wary and uncertain, and I know she's trying to figure out who I am and what I mean to her daughter.
Katya takes a breath, and says, "Mama, this is Dimitri Vetrov."
She pauses, and I see the hesitation in her eyes, the fear of saying too much.
But as her eyes well up again and she says, "He's the man I love," she reaches for me.
Her raw honesty untangles something in my heart I thought was forever lost to wars and violence.
It’s a tender spot I am humbled to give her.
I don’t just own her.
She owns me too, and if it weren't for that damn horse and Katya’s sticky fingers, we never would’ve found each other, and she never would’ve been reunited with her mother.
And now she's standing here, in front of her mother, claiming me as hers.
Anzhela looks between us, her face pale, and I can see the fear there.
She doesn't know me.
She doesn't know what I've done, who I am, or what I'm capable of.
All she sees is a man with blood on his hands and her daughter standing beside him.
I enter the room, closing the distance between us, and I meet Anzhela's gaze head-on.
"I'm Dimitri Vetrov," I say, my voice low. "And I love your daughter."
29
KATYA
The country home feels strange in daylight.
The windows look out over open fields that seem impossibly peaceful after everything I've been through.
I sit at the dining table with my mother and Artemy, a pot of tea steaming between us, and I realize I can't remember the last time I felt this still.
My mother has aged since I last saw her. Her hair is more silver and she has more wrinkles, but her voice is the same soft tone I remember, and when she speaks, I feel years fall away.
"I never stopped thinking about you," she says, her eyes fixed on mine.
"Every day, I wondered where you were. If you were safe. If you were happy."
"I wasn't," I admit, and being brutally honest feels raw.
"I was angry at you for a long time. For all the moving and instability."
Her face crumples, and she sets her cup down.
"I did what I thought was right. Your father's world was dangerous, and I wanted you to have a good safe life. I thought if I kept you away, if I raised you as Volsky instead of Morozova, you'd be better off."
"But I wasn't free," I say, my voice cracking.
"I was alone. I had no one, and I didn't know why. I thought it was my fault, that I wasn't worth staying for."
