Dropping my head into my hands, I just let it all go, my emotions pouring out of me through my tears.

“Kisa?”

Startled, I lifted my head, frantically wiping at my bruised face with my good hand and swallowed back my sobs. “Talia, you scared me,” I said, clearing my throat as she sat beside me, her stare fixing on the night sky.

Without a word, Talia’s hand reached out and held mine. I closed my eyes, just breathing in the Brooklyn summer air, when she whispered, “Thank you.”

Snapping my eyes open, I looked to Talia’s face that, I noticed, was changed, more relaxed. My chest tightened when I realized that for years, since Luka had “died,” this was the first time she seemed truly at ease.

How had I not noticed before?

“Tal—”

“I would never have believed you if you had told me you suspected… Raze… of being my brother. I wouldn’t have believed it for a second. Even if I’d seen him with my own two eyes, I wouldn’t have recognized him. He’s so big, so aggressive looking.” Talia sniffed. “Kisa, I wouldn’t have recognized my own brother.”

“He’s changed, Tal. He doesn’t look the same,” I said, trying to be a comfort. “And he would always wear a hooded sweatshirt with the hood over his eyes. I think somehow he knew that people would know him when they saw his left eye. He didn’t know that though. He doesn’t know much. He needs to learn life all over again.” I squeezed Talia’s hand. “Nobody would have recognized him.”

She turned to me. “Nobody but you. You felt drawn to him, from the night he saved you in that alley. You pursued him and realized who he was. You brought him back. You never gave up. Saw through the bulk, the tattoos and scars. You saw it was him.”

I opened my mouth to reply, but I couldn’t speak, my emotions too high. So we just sat there, breathing properly for the first time in years.

“You saved him,” she then whispered and holding each other’s hands just that little bit tighter, I knew all our lives had changed for the better tonight.

After a while, I got up from the bench and entered the house. Mama Tolstoi was in the kitchen. As soon as I entered, her eyes fell upon my limping, beaten body.

“Kisa… my daughter,” she said quietly, holding out her hand for me to take, before wrapping me in her arms.

“It’s okay, Mama. Everything will now be okay.”

She pulled me into her chest and murmured, “God put a part of my son’s soul within you so when he lost his way, he would follow his feet and find his way back you. You’re the other half of his soul. You’re his savior… you’re all our saviors.”

Fighting back even more tears, I pulled back and pressed a kiss to her cheek. There were no words.

“Your mama will be rejoicing in heaven.”

“Mama…” I said, fighting a lump in my throat.

“Shh… all is well now. No need to fill it with words or explanations. Everything is as it should be. The past is in the past. Follow the newly lit path to the future. My son has returned, the man who took him away is dead and you love him with every part of your being. What more could I ever want?”

Drinking in those words, I smiled in pure joy and asked, “Where—”

“In his old room,” Mama Tolstoi interrupted.

Still smiling, I laid another kiss to her cheek and walked through the living room and up the stairs, hearing Mama Tolstoi singing for the first time in years.

Papa Ivan was in his office at his desk, and for a moment, I could almost pretend the last twelve years hadn’t happened. He was on the phone and I frowned when I heard him discussing the Gulag… discussing number 362.

“I want to know his name, where he was from and the names of the men that put him in that place.” There was a voice coming through the other end of the phone, but it stopped when Ivan slapped the desk and said, “I’ll pay whatever I need to pay, money’s no object, this is for my son! Find the men responsible and have them killed.”

I closed my eyes for a moment and sorrow filled my stomach. Luka was getting revenge for 362, his friend… on the men that falsely accused him.

Luka wanted to do this for his only friend. It almost broke me.

Opening the door to Luka’s old room, I entered to see him slumped on his old narrow bed, his head downcast. He looked huge sitting on his faded blue comforter. My stomach flipped. It was surreal seeing him now, older, in this room.

“Luka?”

Luka lifted his head and his brown eyes were shining. Shutting the door behind me, I walked to the bed. I went to sit beside him, but before I could, Luka carefully scooped me up in his large arms and sat me on his lap, tucking his head into my neck, breathing in my scent.

It made me smile how this was one trait he hadn’t let go of.

I stroked his hair and pressed a long kiss to his head. “Are you okay, baby?”

He shook his head indicating ‘no’, and I held him tighter. I couldn’t imagine the turmoil he was going through right now. The shock of being back here. The shock of realizing that he wasn’t alone in the world. Quite the opposite in fact.

He was loved. He was loved so damn much.

“It will all be okay, you know,” I soothed.

Luka lifted his head and his brown eyes met mine. “I don’t know what to do now. I’ve spent so long with one goal, one drive, and now it is done with.” His eyebrows pulled down. “What now, solnyshko? What do I do now? What if I can’t do anything else but kill?”