Chapter One Hundred and Twenty 

Dimitri

The food Lucia brought was keeping me alive.

Barely.

She came twice a day now. Once in the morning. Once at night.

Real food. Not scraps. And medicine for my wounds.

I was healing, slowly.

My ribs still hurt. My arm was still weak. But I could move now without collapsing.

And I could think clearly again.

Which was both a blessing and a curse.

Because clear thoughts meant remembering. And remembering meant pain.

Sergei's death. Mikhail's broken legs. Irina's face as they dragged me away. Nikolai growing up without me.

The thoughts haunted me in the darkness.

But they also fueled me. Gave...