I had assumed it held old tools.
Or maybe I had wanted to assume that.
Mikhail watched my face.
“What did you remember?”
“Nothing.”
“Anna.”
“I said nothing.”
His expression softened slightly. “You are a poor liar.”
“I’m not lying. I’m deciding.”
That, at least, made Ray smile.
Mikhail nodded slowly, as if he respected the distinction.
“Fair.”
Misha stepped forward. “Miss Anna, if your father helped Uncle Viktor, maybe you can help Nina.”
The simplicity of it hurt.
I knelt so I could look him in the eyes.
“I want Nina to be found,” I said. “But I don’t know how to help.”
“You found me,” he said.
“You found me.”
He shook his head. “No. Nina told me the blue bell was safe. But you made it true.”
For a second, I couldn’t speak.
Then the lights flickered.
Once.
Twice.
The old neon sign outside buzzed loudly, then the diner lights dimmed to a sickly yellow.
Ray looked up. “Storm’s messing with the power.”
The lights steadied.
But the moment had changed.
One of Mikhail’s men moved to the window, peering through the rain. Another spoke quietly into his phone. The older man who had arrived with them stepped toward Mikhail.
“Sir, we need to go. Now.”
Mikhail’s face hardened. “What is it?”
The man hesitated, glancing at Misha.
Mikhail placed one hand gently over his son’s ear, though Misha immediately tried to duck away.
“Papa, I’m not a baby.”
