Chapter 35.

NIKOLAI VOLKOV. The pain was a dull throb against my ribs, like a second heartbeat I had grown tired of listening to. I stood by the floor-to-ceiling window of my study, staring out at the grounds of the estate. The morning sun was bright, offensive in its cheerfulness. I adjusted my stance, shifting my weight. A week ago, that small movement would have sent a spike of agony through my torso that would have doubled me over. Today, it was just a nuisance reminder. I had thrown the cane into the fireplace three days ago. I refused to limp, I refused to look like a cripple in my own house. If I had to grit my teeth until my jaw ached to walk a straight line, then that is what I did. "You're brooding," a voice said from behind me. "You usually only brood when we're losing money but considering the Prague accounts are currently overflowing, I'm assuming this is personal." I didn't turn around. I watched a gardener trimming the hedges in the distance. "I am not brooding, Lorenzo. I am thinki