Mikhail’s pulse pounded in his ears, drowning out the silence that had fallen over the room. He barely felt the weight of Makayla’s gaze on him, her unspoken question lingering between them. His father’s words clung to the air like fog, refusing to fade.
You swore to protect him.
How? When? Why?
None of it made sense. There were no memories—no lingering echoes of a past promise. And yet, something about it gnawed at the edges of his mind, like a whisper just out of reach.
Makayla exhaled slowly, carefully, but he could see the tension in her posture, the way her shoulders had gone rigid. She was trying to piece it together just as he was.
Gino leaned back in his chair, his expression unreadable. "You don’t believe me," he said after a moment.
Mikhail’s fists clenched. "How can we bel
