Anastasia is quiet for a moment, watching Sofiya play with a rattle. “My grandmother lived through the siege of Leningrad,” she says finally. “Nearly two years of starvation, bombings, death everywhere. People ate wallpaper paste to survive.” Her eyes meet mine. “She told me once that, even during the darkest days, babies were born. Women fell in love. People found moments of joy between the horrors.”
“Is it?” She leans forward. “Our world has always been dangerous, Rowan. The threats just change shape. My family has been Bratva for generations. Yes, children have been targeted. Yes, some have died. But many more have lived, have thrived, have found happiness despite it all.”
“I can’t bear the thought of something happening to them.” I sniffle and rub at my eyes. “To either of them. I al
