He pulls out another document.
It's a photo of a man I've never seen, standing beside a woman who looks exactly like my mother.
"This is your father. Lyovik Morozov. Pakhan of the Morozov family. Dead now, but his bloodline lives on. Through you."
"You're insane."
I feel like I’m back on those drugs and for a moment I wonder if I dreamed being sober, having sex this morning with Dimitri before he went to the shower.
But I know that's not the case.
Then I wonder if they dosed me, if somehow when I wasn't paying attention, they blew some sort of drug in my face, or if they administered it while they were patting me down.
Is this a hallucination?
"Am I?"
He sets the photo down, leaning against the table.
"We've known who you are since the moment you walked into that card room, Katerina. We've been waiting to see what Dimitri's play would be. Whether he knew. Whether he was using you."
"I don't know what you're talking about."
My voice rises, panic creeping in.
"My name is Katya Volsky. I'm a thief. A con artist. Nothing more. I don’t work for Vetrov anymore."
"You're a Morozova."
He moves closer, his shadow falling over me, and his head shakes as if he doesn't believe a word I'm saying.
"And that makes you valuable. To us. To the Vetrovs. To anyone who wants leverage in this city."
One of the younger men who followed him in strides forward, pulling a rope from his pocket.
He grabs my wrists, wrenching them behind the chair.
I struggle, but he's stronger.
The rope bites into my skin as he ties me tightly.
"Let me go," I demand.
"Not yet."
The older man picks up the flashlight, switching it on.
He shines it directly into my eyes.
I flinch, turning my head, but he grabs my jaw and forces me to face the light.
"Tell us about the Vetrovs," he says.
"What do they know about you?"
"Nothing. They know nothing. What the fuck are you talking about? There's nothing to know…"
"Wrong answer."