panic in her eyes. “Hey,” I said softly. “You’ve got this. There’s nothing you can’t do if you put your mind to it. You go to New York and show them what us Volkovs are made of.” She smiled softly. “But I’m not a Volkov anymore.” “Sestra,” Sister. I laid a hand on her shoulder in comfort. “It doesn’t matter what your last name is. You’ll always be a Volkov.”
