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7
Lily
“What does the book say?” I ask Ivan as he drums his tattooed fingers on the cover.
His eyes return to focus, having been lost in some deep thought. We have that in common. We’re always lost in our heads. Sometimes, I wonder if every moment I’ve ever lived was really all just inside my mind.
“The book is instructional, very old, and a little hard to understand unless you already know what it means,” Ivan explains, rubbing the aging cover. “Esoteric, hidden meanings, and all that.”
“Sounds like a cult,” I say, knowing very little about Esoteric things. Dimitri never spoke of them, and I’m not one to mess with things that could be dangerous.
Ivan chuckles. “Nothing like a cult, my dear. It’s purely instructional. It’s just written in a way that would be hard for outsiders to understand. If this book ever fell into the wrong hands, it’d be useless.”
“That makes sense, and it explains why you always talk in riddles,” I say, unable to hide the irritation in my voice. This entire situation has brought out a different side of me. I’m not just scared; I’m also irritable, especially when Ivan is taking a long time to explain things that shouldn’t take so long.
Too many questions, not enough answers.
Ivan raises a thick eyebrow at my response, but he doesn’t comment on my snippiness. “So, this book explains the rules of the Bratva. Some of them are simple and straight forward, such as prioritizing loyalty to the organization over personal gains, but others are more specific. We only need to get into those if you choose to join our ranks.”
“Never,” I blurt, “and I doubt Dimitri was part of this, either.”
Ivan rolls his eyes. “Come now, sweetheart, we shouldn’t have to have this conversation again. You see this ring?” He leans toward me, holding out his pinky. The ruby on his ring catches the candlelight, glinting a beautiful blood red on the gold band.
“You have the same ring. That’s not… that’s not proof of anything,” I say, my voice dying in my throat a little. There’s no point in arguing with him. He’s probably telling the truth, and I’m being immature by not accepting it.
“The engraving on this ring is our oath,” Ivan continues, running his finger across the band. “Only important members of the Bratva have these rings. They’re for the people who call the shots. If someone is to be killed, well, you need to have a ring to decree it, or it won’t happen.”
My heart sinks. Imagining Dimitri calling for someone to be killed almost seems impossible until I remember the way his eyes grew cold the time I joked about strangling my professor for giving me a bad grade. The look in his eyes freaked me out, which is why I still remember it.
“You know it’s true,” Ivan says, keeping his voice low as he leans in even closer. I can smell his cologne, and the faintest hint of smoke on his clothes. That familiar smell clings to him as well, spicy with an earthy undertone. I wonder what that is. Dimitri smelled like it too.
“Why didn’t Dimitri tell me about any of this?” I ask, my voice dry and raspy.
“Would you ever admit to killing a person?” he replies. “Think about it. You’re a civilian, and your first reaction to being in danger was to try to call the police.”
I scoff. “Stop calling me a civilian. It’s weird.”
“You’re either a civilian or you’re part of the Bratva. That’s how this works.”
“I’m not going to be fooled into joining your ranks,” I snap, pulling away from him. “I’m not interested in wearing a ring.”
“You don’t get a ring for simply joining,” he says, his green eyes dancing with mischief in the flickering light. “You have to get blood on your hands first. Ten members of any chosen opposition.”
Suddenly, the deep red borshch no longer looks appetizing. I push it away, feeling sick to my stomach. “I think I’m done with this conversation for now. I want to go home.”
“Unwise,” Ivan says, grabbing his bread and tearing a piece off with his teeth. “The cops will get you.”
I squeeze the bridge of my nose and groan. “I’m not like you, Ivan. They’re not going to get me.”
“They will,” he growls, grabbing my arm and jerking it away from my face. His expression is terrifying, a harrowing mix of anger and intensity that only comes from a place of deep trauma. “You have no idea what they’ll do to a girl like you, Lily. You’re not safe anywhere but with me.”
His grip is like an iron clasp, heavy and oppressive, refusing to let me pull away. “Ivan, ouch, you’re hurting me,” I whine, even though the only reason I feel any pain is because I’m pulling myself so hard to get away from him.
He lets go immediately, a panicked look in his eye. “Sorry, I… I just want you to understand what you’re up against.”
I get up from my seat, taking a long step back while keeping my eyes locking on him. I don’t know what he’s capable of, especially after that little outburst. I like to think I’d be able to outrun him, but his reaction time is incredible. He’d be on top of me before I could even turn away.
“You can’t leave the property without my permission,” he says, his voice deep and authoritative. “So don’t even try. Like I said, you’re much safer here with me.”
