Irina woke to the realization that she was no longer in the same room she had been before. Surprisingly, she was not restrained, and the cuff she had been wearing on her right wrist was gone. Someone had even wrapped her left hand in a bandage. Confused, Irina sat up and looked around her. She was in a bedroom, tastefully decorated, and on one wall was a charcoal sketch of the Derevko dacha outside Moscow. Irina felt a sudden pang of homesickness, but quickly pushed it aside.

She stood up and crossed to the door. It was unlocked. Irina warily pulled it open and began her exploration of the rest of the house.

There were two other bedrooms on the upstairs level, as well as a nursery. Irina stood in the doorway of the latter room, blinking back tears when she realized it was empty.

"You're awake," Elena said from behind her.

She whirled around. "Where's Nadia?"

Elena looked at her for a moment, then gestured for her to enter the nursery. "We should talk first."

"I have nothing to say to you."

Elena stepped closer and took Irina's uninjured hand in her own, rubbing her thumb over the tattoo. She smiled. "I never thought you'd believe."

"Is that why you stole my children?" It was an effort not to pull her hand away.

"It had to be done." Elena's tone was free of regret. "Nadia and Sydney cannot be allowed to grow up together."

Irina felt as if she was watching the scene from outside herself. "What?"

"For the prophecy to be fulfilled," Elena continued, "the Chosen One and the Passenger cannot grow up sisters."

Irina remembered the first time she'd heard about that prophecy. Arkady had told them, in Venice, and the horror she'd felt then was nothing compared to what she felt now. The Chosen One and the Passenger will fight, and only one will survive.

She felt light-headed; her mouth was dry. She reached for the doorframe to steady herself. "Elena—"

"I know." Elena brushed her hand over Irina's hair. "It's a difficult thing to hear about your children. That's why I took them both, you know; I knew you would never be able to choose between them."

Irina shook her head.

"You could stay here." Elena was smiling again. "Raise Nadia yourself; let Jack raise Sydney."

"What?"

"But you won't." Elena said. "I'll take you to Nadia, but you can't leave with her."

"Because of the prophecy."

Elena nodded. "She's downstairs. Come with me."

Irina followed her sister, no longer paying attention to her surroundings. All she could think was that she would finally see her youngest daughter again, and that Elena was a fool if she thought Irina was leaving without Nadia.

Jack glanced around the hotel room he was sharing with Arkady. The older man was standing at the window, peering out through a crack in the curtains. They had come here to wait for Arkady's contact to get in touch with them; the Bianchi boys were in the adjoining room. Arkady had said very little since they left the house; Jack couldn't even begin to guess at what he was thinking.

Jack was sitting on one of the twin beds. "Why did you leave your family, Arkady? The truth."

"To protect them." Arkady didn't turn to look at them. "You would have done the same thing in my place."

"Don't be so sure of that."

Now Arkady turned, and there was an expression on his face that bespoke years of pain and anguish. "If your family's lives depended on it, if there was no other way, you would do it."

Could he? Jack wondered. Leave Irina, leave Sydney and Nadia?

Yes, he realized; it would be the hardest thing he could ever be asked to do, but if it kept them safe and alive – then, yes.

He looked away, uncomfortable under Arkady's scrutiny.

"Tell me about Irina," Arkady said after a while. "She seems to have become an exceptional woman."

"She is." He leaned back against the headboard. Arkady was still practically a stranger to him, but as he thought about what it had cost Arkady to protect his family, Jack felt he deserved to hear about his daughter. "I knew she was special from the moment I met her. I couldn't believe my luck when she agreed to go on a date with me."

"Do you still feel that way now? Despite everything that's happened?"

Jack nodded. "I wish she'd trusted me with the truth sooner, but yeah. I love her."

Arkady smiled. "Good."

It was strange, Jack thought; he'd told himself he didn't care what Arkady thought of him, but it was still a good feeling to know he had his father-in-law's approval. "When all this is over," he said, "you should spend some time with us."

Arkady's smile turned bitter. "I don't think Irina would want that."

"Give her time. She – This has been a crazy year. For all of us."

Arkady nodded.

"Besides," Jack added, "I want you to get to know your granddaughters."

Arkady blinked, swallowed, nodded again, then turned back to the window. When he spoke again his voice was gruff. "Thank you."

At eight months old, Nadia was a chubby, smiling baby with a head of dark curls. She was the spitting image of her mother at that age, and Irina would have known her even without checking for the tiny birthmark on her ankle. She had spent the entire day with her: playing outside in Elena's garden, telling stories, watching over her as she napped. Irina couldn't quite believe that she was really there, and kept touching her, kissing her and stroking her hair.

Elena, surprisingly, let her have the time with Nadia. Irina knew better than to think she wasn't being watched, though, and during Nadia's nap, Irina came up with an escape plan.

She was giving Nadia dinner when Elena entered the kitchen with Sloane. She remained silent, keeping her attention on her daughter.

"You have beautiful children, Irina," Sloane said.

Irina's spine stiffened; Nadia must have picked up on the tension in the room because she started to fuss. Elena moved to pick her up, but stopped when Irina glared in her direction. Elena shrugged, then leaned casually against the counter. Irina lifted Nadia from the high chair then left the room.

Later, after she had put Nadia to bed, she returned to the kitchen to find something to eat. She hadn't wanted to eat the food Elena had prepared; she didn't trust her not to drug it. Better to make something herself.

She was somehow not that surprised to find Elena waiting for her. There was a loaf of bread on the counter; Irina picked up one of the knives and began to cut a slice from it.

"Nadia's beautiful, isn't she?" Elena said. "She's growing so quickly."

Irina's hand tightened on the handle of the knife. She took a deep breath. "Thank you for taking such good care of her."

"She's my niece. I love her."

Irina didn't trust herself to speak, so she simply nodded.

"You should think about staying," Elena said. "I miss you. Nadia misses you."

Irina stopped cutting. She glanced down at her hands, at the mark of Rambaldi on her skin, and she felt ill.