THREE HEARTS, ONE SIN

CHAPTER 8

Three knocks.

That was all I heard.

Knock.

Knock.

Knock.

I stared at the door, my heart beating so fast I was beginning to wonder if it was trying to escape without me.

Nobody spoke.

Roman had his gun pointed at the door.

Adrian stood beside him, looking unusually serious.

Nikolai was watching the dark screen on the wall.

I swallowed.

“Are we going to open it?” I whispered.

“No,” Roman said.

“Good.”

A pause.

“Then why are we all standing here?”

Adrian looked at me.

“Excellent question.”

Roman shot him a look.

“What?” Adrian whispered. “I'm trying to keep morale alive.”

“Your jokes are terrible.”

“Yet she laughed.”

“I did not,” I said.

“You almost did.”

“I almost slapped you.”

“That counts as affection.”

I stared at him.

“Do you ever shut up?”

“No.”

For some strange reason, that made me smile.

Only for a second.

Then the door handle moved.

My smile disappeared.

Roman raised his gun.

The handle stopped.

Nothing happened.

Then a man's voice came from the other side.

“Roman.”

Roman's face changed.

I had never seen him look that way before.

Not angry.

Not scared.

Something worse.

He knew the voice.

“Who is that?” I asked.

Roman didn't answer.

The man spoke again.

“You've grown.”

Adrian stepped closer to us.

“Oh, this is definitely creepy.”

Nikolai's eyes narrowed.

“Open the door.”

Roman looked at him.

“Are you insane?”

“No.”

Nikolai stepped back.

“He wants us to open it.”

I frowned.

“Then why would we?”

“Because he already knows we're here.”

That was not helpful.

Roman slowly lowered his gun.

I grabbed his arm.

“Wait.”

He looked at me.

“What?”

“Don't open it.”

Something in my voice made him stop.

The man outside suddenly laughed.

A low, quiet laugh.

Then he said my name.

“Elena.”

My stomach twisted.

“How does he know my name?”

Roman looked at me.

“Everyone who worked for your father knows your name.”

“That doesn't make me feel better.”

“It wasn't supposed to.”

I glared at him.

“Thanks.”

He almost smiled.

Almost.

Then the door opened.

By itself.

A man stood in the hallway.

He looked to be in his fifties.

Gray hair.

Dark coat.

Calm eyes.

And a scar running from his left ear down to his jaw.

I had never seen him before.

But somehow, I felt like I knew him.

He looked at me for a long moment.

Then he smiled.

“You look exactly like your mother.”

My chest tightened.

“My mother?”

Roman stepped between us.

“Who are you?”

The man ignored him.

His eyes remained on me.

“I knew your father before you were born.”

“Are you the surgeon?”

He smiled.

“So Victor told you.”

“You gave him his new face.”

“Yes.”

I stared at him.

“Why?”

His smile faded.

“Because someone tried to kill him.”

“And you saved him?”

“No.”

He looked directly at me.

“I helped him disappear.”

Nobody spoke.

I could barely breathe.

“Where is he?”

The man's eyes moved toward Roman.

Then Adrian.

Then Nikolai.

“He's closer than you think.”

My heart dropped.

“Where?”

He stepped closer.

“Ask yourself why Victor chose these three men to protect you.”

Roman's jaw tightened.

“Enough.”

The man laughed softly.

“Still protective, Roman. Some things never change.”

Roman raised his gun again.

“Leave.”

The man didn't move.

Instead, he reached inside his coat.

Roman immediately aimed at his chest.

“Slowly.”

The man pulled out a small photograph.

He held it toward me.

I stepped forward.

Roman tried to stop me.

I ignored him.

I took the photograph.

It was old.

Very old.

It showed my father standing beside the same three men.

Roman.

Adrian.

Nikolai.

But there was someone else in the picture.

A woman.

My mother.

My fingers went numb.

I looked at the man.

“Why do you have this?”

He stared at me.

“Because your father wasn't the only one who disappeared that night.”

My breathing stopped.

“What do you mean?”

He looked at the photograph.

“Your mother didn't die in that car accident.”

The room went completely silent.

I couldn't hear anything anymore.

Not Roman.

Not Adrian.

Not Nikolai.

Nothing.

I looked at the picture again.

My mother's face stared back at me.

Alive.

Smiling.

And standing beside my father.

My voice came out barely above a whisper.

“Where is she?”

The man smiled sadly.

“That's the question your father has been trying to answer for seven years.”

Then he turned around and walked away.

Roman rushed after him.

“Wait!”

The man stopped at the end of the hallway.

Without turning around, he said,

“Tell Victor his daughter knows the truth now.”

Then he disappeared.

I stood there, staring at the empty hallway.

Adrian slowly looked at me.

“Well…”

I looked at him.

“Don't.”

He raised his hands.

“I wasn't going to say anything.”

“You were.”

“I was.”

For once, nobody laughed.

Because there was only one thing running through my mind.

My father was alive.

My mother might be alive.

And the three men standing around me knew more than they were telling me.

I turned toward Roman.

“Start talking.”

His face hardened.

“About what?”

I held up the photograph.

“My mother.”

Roman said nothing.

And that silence told me everything.

He knew.