Page 160 of The Savage

Palinski leans back in his chair. His gaze cuts across every one of us, slow and deliberate. ‘And what of your vow?’ he asks. ‘Your no-harming-women burden?’

The room tightens.

I feel Giada’s hand tremble in mine. She’s anguished but also resolved and she squeezes my fingers like she’s bracing me. Forgiving me in advance for whatever choice I make.

I open my mouth but Palinski beats me to it.

‘We make a deal,’ he says. ‘I give you half of what I extract. Enough to hurt your enemies. I keep her. Could be one month. Could be three days. I will tell you when I am finished.’

He glances at Yelena. Cold. Final. ‘Or,’ he continues, ‘I take care of everything now. Cleanly. And you owe me.’

Silence crashes down.

I don’t look at Giada. I can’t. If I do, I’ll burn the place down.

Dante’s jaw flexes. Cesare stares at the floor like he’s counting ghosts. The guards don’t move, but their fingers tighten on triggers.

Sofiya steps closer to Rafa and murmurs, barely audible, ‘Whatever you decide, I’m with you, baby.’

Rafa’s teeth grind, then he moves.

The soldiers react instantly, guns rising. ‘Nyet,’ Palinski snaps, lifting a hand.

The weapons lower.

Rafa walks straight up to Palinski, bends at the waist, and whispers something into his ear.

I don’t hear the words. Time stretches. Palinski’s expression doesn’t change at first. But then… his eyes flick once. Sharp. Measuring.

After a long moment, he nods. Once.

Rafa straightens and turns back to us. ‘It is done,’ he says quietly. ‘Sì?’

I look into my brother’s eyes and I see rage, control. Sacrifice. The line we didn’t cross and the blood that will still be paid.

‘It is done,’ I say.

Rafa repeats it to Dante.

Dante nods.

Then to Cesare.

Cesare swallows hard. His throat works. He stares at Rafa for a long, heavy second. Then they clasp hands.

It’s not celebration and it’s a far cry from relief.

But it’s closure.

We leave St Petersburg knowing our mother’s killer will not live to see many more sunrises.

And we didn’t break our vow.

* * *

The jet lifts into the night like nothing happened when everything did.

The silence thick and contemplative.