have said is true, I am finally safe on my own. That is a blessing.”
Avto looked to me as a father would to a daughter, then got to his feet. “I’ll come by tomorrow evening. I’ll arrange a car to take us to Brooklyn, to the apartment Zaal shares with his fiancée.”
I smiled at Avto, and nodded my head as he left the apartment. I heard the door locks snap shut and I flopped back against the couch. When Avto and his family found me as a child, on the brink of death, under my deceased family’s bodies, our people had rejoiced. I was alive. The Kostava Clan, who had been a royal family of sorts to the people of Georgia, had a living heir. And Anri and Zaal were missing. Not dead, but missing. A hope that was diminished was suddenly reborn.
Like the proverbial princess locked in the tower, I had been hidden and treated like a goddess my entire life. We had moved around a lot, until I feared I would go crazy from the suffocating seclusion my life had become. I was treated more like a prized jewel than a human, too precious to lose to our enemy. The last pillar of hope for the Tbilisi Kostava dynasty.
Until now.
Jumping to my feet, I rushed to the heavy black curtains that were always drawn in my apartment. Pushing the curtains aside just a fraction, I stared out into the cold dark night, searching for any signs of life. People were walking past, going about their business, but other than that, I could see no danger.
Dropping the curtains, I closed my eyes. “There is no more danger,” I said aloud, convincing myself that the threat to my life was no longer there.
Moving to the closet, I took out my long hooded dark coat and slipped it over my black slacks and black silk blouse. Tucking my long black hair down my back, I clutched the paper with the addresses on and headed toward the door. I needed to do this, alone. And after twenty years of waiting for this news, I could not wait one more second to see my brother.
I rarely left the apartment, yet I knew the territory like the back of my hand. Years ago, when Avto brought me to New York, he had made sure I memorized every road, every subway station. I had to be prepared, in case I had to flee alone. I was trained to sink into the shadows.
Opening the door to the Manhattan street, the snow falling down painting the darkened concrete roads in white, I pulled my hood up, and made my way down the steps of my apartment building, immediately becoming one of the people on the street. With my head down, I arrived at the subway and entered the busy station. Sitting down on a spare seat, I allowed myself to pull out the photo and stare at the happy couple.
The long journey to Brighton Beach was much quicker than I imagined it would be. My focus was on the brother I’d thought I’d lost forever, mixed with the heady anticipation that within the hour I would meet him again.
The train pulled to a stop, and I hurried out of the station. I had never been to Brighton Beach before, and when I stepped out onto the street I gasped at my surroundings. I felt like I was in another world. The gray buildings were empty and falling apart. The streets were dark and dingy. Cold wind whistled through the boarded-up houses and half-standing restaurants and shops. It was nothing when compared to the opulence and beauty of Manhattan.
Ignoring the icy chill racing down my spine, I forced my feet to move, the soles of my black boots crunching on the snow beneath. I stayed in the dark of the unlit streets, becoming one with the night, until I arrived at a row of brownstones. The center house stood proudly in this place of dilapidation. Its upkeep clearly showing the owners had money.
My heart raced.
The House of Tolstoi.
The windows were high and wide, and anyone could see that the people residing in this house were a cut above the rest. Then my heart stilled when shadows moved past the window. I squinted my eyes, focusing through the petals of falling snow. There was a tall man, with a broad chest, holding on to a woman with long brown hair. I held my breath when a blond woman moved