Midnight came with a blizzard.
Thick snow swirled over the Volkov estate grounds, turning the world silver and soundless. Larissa stood by the window in her office, staring out at the long drive that led to the edge of the forest.
Lukyan was late.
He hadn't said where he was going—only that he'd meet Demyan alone.
And that if he didn't return in two hours, she was to call a name she'd never heard before: Grigor Malenko.
"Tell him it's the Black Files," Lukyan had said. "He'll know what to do."
She hadn't asked what that meant.
Because the look in his eyes had been final.
A sudden sound cut through the hush—a soft knock on her door.
She turned sharply, half-expecting one of the children.
But it wasn't.
A woman stood there—tall, poised, wrapped in a dark red coat dusted with snow. Her cheekbones were sharp, her eyes icy blue. She looked… familiar.
"You're Larissa," the woman said, voice clipped.
"Yes. Who—?"
"I'm Anya. Lukyan's cousin."
Larissa blinked. "I didn't know he had a cousin."
"That's not surprising. He doesn't speak of me. Or anyone else from that side of the family."
The tension in the air sharpened.
Anya stepped inside without waiting for permission.
"I saw him leave," Anya said. "He doesn't know I'm here. I came because I saw Demyan earlier tonight. Near the river trail. He's not alone."
Larissa's stomach tightened. "What do you mean?"
"I mean he's not just here to blackmail Lukyan. He brought people with him. Dangerous people."
Larissa stepped forward. "Why are you telling me this?"
Anya hesitated. "Because he saved my brother during that fire. Because my family owes him more than we can repay. And because I know what Demyan is capable of."
Larissa didn't wait for more explanation.
She grabbed her coat.
"I'm going to find him."
The snow bit at her cheeks as she left the house.
The path to the river trail was slick, barely lit, winding through frostbitten trees. Her boots crunched over ice. Somewhere behind her, Anya followed in silence.
They found Lukyan near the frozen bank.
He was alone. Bloodied.
Larissa ran to him just as he stumbled forward.
"I'm fine," he rasped.
"You're bleeding!"
"It's not mine."
A second later, the trees behind him rustled—and Demyan stepped into view.
His face was gaunt, almost skeletal. A scar curved over one brow. His coat flared in the wind.
"Touching," he said. "Really."
Anya stepped in front of Larissa.
"Don't," she warned Demyan.
"You always were the loyal one," he sneered. "But this doesn't concern you."
"It concerns all of us if you're threatening him."
Lukyan stood straighter, ignoring the blood on his sleeve. "You made your point. What do you want?"
Demyan's smile chilled her.
"Everything," he said. "You rebuild your life while I rot in the shadows? No. You'll fund my new clinic. Publicly. You'll bring me back into the fold. Or the world hears about your illegal investigations, your falsified files, the names you buried in that fire."
Larissa spoke before she could stop herself.
"And what happens when Lukyan exposes you?"
Demyan turned to her. "You're pretty. Smart. But stupid if you think he hasn't lied to you too."
She stiffened.
Lukyan's jaw locked.
"I never lied to her about who I am."
"But you did lie to yourself," Demyan said darkly. "You think this life you've built will survive the truth? You think she'll stay when she realizes what it cost you?"
A beat passed.
And then Lukyan moved.
---
One punch.
Two.
Demyan fell into the snow, gasping, his blood vivid against the white.
"You come near her again," Lukyan said coldly, "and I'll finish what the fire didn't."
Anya stepped forward, restraining him. Larissa touched Lukyan's arm, grounding him.
"I have the footage," she said to Demyan. "I saw what you did. You want to play this game in public? Try me."
Demyan spat blood. "You don't scare me."
"But she should," Anya said softly. "Because she's the only one who still has nothing to lose."
That silenced him.
---
They left him in the snow.
By the time they got home, the fire was dying in the hearth and the silence was heavier than before.
Larissa helped Lukyan bandage his arm. Neither of them spoke.
Not until he looked up and said, "I meant it, you know."
She met his gaze. "Meant what?"
"When I said I didn't plan for you. I don't know how to protect you from the ghosts I carry. But I swear, Larissa, I want to try."
She leaned in, pressed her forehead to his.
"You don't have to protect me from your past," she whispered.
"Just let me be part of your future."
And for the first time, Lukyan didn't pull away.