Page 115 of Ruthless Sin
My heart stops.
Not metaphor.
Stops.
Then starts again. Too fast. Too hard.
I can’t breathe.
He turns. Sits facing me on the edge of the bed. His hand still at the back of his neck.
His eyes won’t meet mine.
“Three years ago,” he says. “Moscow. Dante sent me to map a network. I was posing as a buyer. French-Canadian cover. Martin Leclerc.”
The room tilts.
Moscow. Three years ago.
“I met Yelena at the first meeting.”
Yelena.
Her name in his mouth.
My throat is closing.
“She read me,” he says. “Took her a few meetings. She didn’t believe the cover.”
He stops. Swallows hard.
“After that, she came to me with an offer. Intel for extraction. Three women out.”
He looks at the floor.
“Herself. Your mother. Her sister.”
“Her sister,” I say.
He looks at the floor.
“You.”
My throat closes.
The room is spinning.
Her sister. Me.
“She told me about you,” he says. His voice cracks. “Sold by your stepfather when you were fifteen. To pay his debt. To show your mother and Yelena what defiance would cost.”
My hands have gone numb.
“Your mother was part of the plan,” he says. “Yelena wanted all three of you out.”
He stops.
“Your mother died two years after Moscow. Alexei had her killed when she tried to leave him.”
