Chapter 70

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The more time Ravil spent, sitting idle in this new cell, the more he wondered. 

What was real and what was not? Who could he trust? 

His mother was supposedly dead. He didn't understand. Was she even his real mother, or perhaps just someone planted by Russia? What about his father? Was he real? Was there any blood relation at all? Was he in jail or somewhere else? What could he believe? And if they were not his biological parents, who were?

He drew in a deep breath, held it for a moment, then let out a sigh. He didn't want to even think about it right now. 

Thankfully, he didn't need to. Something else with which to occupy his mind walked into the cell. 

A masked man strode in, letting the door click shut behind him. He donned a long black trenchcoat that billowed at his heels, his shoes gleaming as they hit the floor. He stopped just a few feet short of Ravil. 

Then he took off his mask, revealing blonde hair, pale skin, and large, round brown eyes. Ravil could recognize that face anywhere. 

Marco Belford! My former "psychiatrist." 

Marco blinked, peering down at Ravil. A smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. "Good day, Ravil."

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