The days after Tom's rescue were quiet.
Too quiet.
Sara moved through the mansion like a ghost, checking on Tom every hour, watching him sleep, making sure he was still there. He was handling it better than she expected—better than she was handling it. He ate. He talked. He even laughed at something Adrian said during dinner.
But Sara saw the shadows in his eyes. The way he flinched at sudden noises. The way he checked the locks on his door before bed.
He was pretending to be okay. For her.
She did the same for him.
Marta was still in the hospital.
The doctors were optimistic. The surgery had gone well. She was stable. But she hadn't woken up yet.
Sara visited every day, sitting beside her bed, holding her hand, talking to her about nothing and everything. About the garden she was planning to rebuild. About the baby. About Tom's new obsession with video games.
"Tom wants to teach the baby to play," she said one afternoon, her voice soft. "Can you imagine? A newborn with a controller. He's already planning strategies."
Marta didn't respond. But Sara kept talking anyway.
Because talking was the only thing keeping her sane.
Adrian was handling things differently.
He spent hours in the basement.
Sara knew because she could hear him sometimes, pacing, talking to Natalia in a voice too low to understand. She didn't ask what they talked about. She wasn't sure she wanted to know.
But one evening, he came to her with a look she hadn't seen before.
Not anger. Not fear. Something else.
"We need to talk," he said.
Sara's heart clenched. "What happened?"
Adrian sat beside her on the bed, taking her hands. "I've been talking to Natalia. About Dimitri."
Sara stiffened. "Dimitri? He's in prison. He's not a threat anymore."
"He's in prison. But he's asking to see you."
Sara stared at him. "Me? Why?"
Adrian's jaw tightened. "He says he has information. About Natalia. About the attack. About things she hasn't told us."
Sara pulled her hands away. "You want me to go see the man who tried to kill me? The man who kidnapped my father? The man who worked with Natalia to destroy our family?"
"I want to know what he knows." Adrian's voice was gentle but firm. "Natalia gave us Tom. But she's still hiding things. Still protecting herself. Dimitri might be the key to getting the whole truth."
Sara stood, moving to the window. Below, the gardens were in ruins—the roses she had planted, trampled, destroyed. Just like everything else.
"You go," she said. "You talk to him. I can't—I can't look at him, Adrian. Not after everything."
Adrian came up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist. "He won't talk to me. He asked for you. Specifically."
"Why?"
"I don't know. But I think it's important."
Sara closed her eyes. The baby moved inside her—a flutter, barely noticeable, but there. A reminder of what she was fighting for.
"Fine," she said. "I'll go. But you're coming with me."
"Always."
The prison was cold.
It was a Volkov facility—hidden, private, secure. The kind of place where people went when they needed to disappear. Dimitri had been here since the warehouse, locked away, forgotten by everyone except the guards who fed him.
Sara walked through the corridors with Adrian at her side, her hand in his, her heart pounding. The guards unlocked door after door, leading them deeper, deeper, until they reached a cell at the end of a long hallway.
Dimitri sat inside.
He looked different than she remembered. Thinner. Paler. His eyes were the same—sharp, calculating—but something in them had changed. Something like exhaustion. Something like defeat.
He looked up when they entered. His gaze moved from Adrian to Sara, and a slow smile spread across his face.
"The happy couple," he said. "I was wondering when you'd come."
Adrian's hand tightened on Sara's. "You asked for her. You got her. Now talk."
Dimitri leaned back against the wall, studying them. "You've been busy, I hear. Mother's little attack. The boy being taken. The dramatic rescue." His smile widened. "Family drama. How lovely."
Sara stepped forward. "You said you had information. What is it?"
Dimitri was quiet for a moment. Then he said, "She's not going to stop, you know. Natalia. She gave you the boy, yes. But that was strategy. Not mercy."
Adrian frowned. "What do you mean?"
"She wanted you to think she was changing. To let your guard down. To think she could be saved." Dimitri laughed bitterly. "She can't be saved. She was broken a long time ago. And she wants to break you too."
Sara moved closer to the bars. "Why are you telling us this? You worked with her. You helped her."
"I helped her because she promised me what I deserved. What was always mine." His eyes darkened. "But she lied. She was using me, just like she uses everyone. And when she's done with you, she'll throw me away like trash."
"So now you want revenge," Adrian said.
"I want my freedom." Dimitri leaned forward, his face close to the bars. "I know where she's hiding. The real hiding place. Not the church. Not the safe house. The place she's been building for forty years. The place she's going to take you when she's ready to finish this."
Sara's heart pounded. "Where?"
Dimitri smiled. "I'll tell you. But I want something in return."
"Freedom," Adrian said flatly.
"Freedom. A new identity. Enough money to disappear. I'll leave the country. You'll never see me again."
Adrian stared at him for a long moment. Then he said, "You tried to kill my wife. You kidnapped her father. You helped Natalia destroy our family. And you want me to let you go?"
Dimitri's smile didn't waver. "I want you to choose. Your revenge on me. Or your family's safety."
The silence stretched between them.
Sara watched Adrian's face, watched the war inside him. She knew what he wanted—to kill Dimitri, to end the threat, to finally have justice for everything his brother had done.
But she also knew what he would choose.
"Tell us where she is," Adrian said quietly. "And I'll let you go."
Dimitri's smile widened. "I knew you'd see it my way, brother."
He leaned back, pulling something from his pocket—a folded piece of paper, hidden in the lining of his coat. He slid it through the bars.
Adrian caught it. Unfolded it.
Sara looked over his shoulder. It was a map, marked with coordinates. A location deep in the mountains, far from the city, far from everything.
"What is this place?" she asked.
Dimitri's eyes gleamed. "The beginning. And the end."
They left the prison in silence.
Adrian drove, his hands white-knuckled on the wheel, his face unreadable. Sara sat beside him, the map in her hands, her mind racing.
"You're not going to let him go," she said finally.
Adrian was quiet for a moment. Then: "No."
Sara looked at him. "You promised."
"I promised to consider it. I didn't promise to let him walk free."
"He'll tell Natalia. If he finds out you lied, he'll warn her."
Adrian shook his head slowly. "He won't find out. He'll stay in that cell until this is over. And then..." He met her eyes. "Then we'll decide what happens to him."
Sara wanted to argue. Wanted to tell him that keeping promises mattered, even to people like Dimitri. But she thought about Tom. About the terror in his eyes when she'd found him in that cellar. About the way he still checked the locks on his door.
"You do what you have to do," she said quietly. "I trust you."
Adrian reached over, taking her hand. "I don't deserve you."
"Stop saying that."
"It's true."
"It's not." She squeezed his fingers. "You're a good man, Adrian Volkov. You're trying to protect your family. That's not something to apologize for."
He lifted her hand to his lips and kissed it. "What would I do without you?"
"Crash and burn, probably."
He laughed—a real laugh, the first she'd heard in days. "Probably."