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“I’m here, Lia,” I tell her firmly.
“I don’t need anybody,” she says, her voice getting weak, like she wants nothing more than to collapse against me again.
She firmly plants her hand on my chest when I lean down for a hug. When I don’t budge, she pushes herself away instead of pushing me back. Then she spins and walks-slash-runs into the house. I want to follow her, but it would mean ignoring my duty and letting the city crumble.
My cell phone buzzes. It’s Mikhail, a text telling me he’s ready to leave when I am. Heading outside with a heavy heart, I meet Mikhail at the car. “Our father kept records of all the guards and their families,” I mutter.
Mikhail nods. “Yeah, and?”
“In case they ever turned against us. If that was why some of them stayed in line, will it still work for us? They believed he would kill their wives and kids if they betrayed the Sokolovs, but wouldwedo that, Mikhail?”
“I’d never hurt a woman or a child.”
“Me neither,” I say, then sigh and clap him on the arm. “Which is why you need to stay here.”
Mikhail shakes his head. “Dimitri, none of these men are on the list. They’ve got no possible connection to Nikolai.”
“I know,” I snap. “But if there’s even a one percent chance something bad could happen while we’re gone, I’ll never forgive myself.”
“Take some security, then,” Mikhail snaps.
“Same problem,” I tell him. “Don’t worry. I can handle myself. Just watch the women. Watch Lia. Don’t fight me on this.”
He smooths his hair back, eyes narrowed, biting down. I can tell he’s pissed. Then, he gets a calculated look in his eyes. He’s weighing up my words. Maybe, by being able to tell how much I care about Lia, he knows how important this is to me.
“Dammit, Dimitri.” He pulls me into a hug, once again proving that he’s the most emotionally available of us two, not like that’s saying much in the Bratva world. It’s not like there’s stiff competition. “Just be careful, all right?”
“I will. Keep the women safe. Keep our sister safe.”
“I’ll always do that,” Mikhail says, almost sounding guilty.
“Had a change of heart?”
“I never hated Ania,” Mikhail snaps, “but you’re right. The old bastard probably cheated on our mother hundreds of times, and who cares, anyway? He didn’t deserve her. I meant what I said, Dimitri. If he hadn’t put that bullet in his head, I would’ve happily done it.”
“I know,” I say. “But if we’d done that, then every other Bratva in the US would be on our asses. They wouldn’t be able to let something like that stand. We’d have to fight a war.”
“We’d win,” Mikhail grunts.
“We would,” I growl, feeling the fire in me. “We’d do whatever it took, but people would die. Not just soldiers. Not just Bratva. Civilians, women, children. With Konstantin gone, we can choose our own path.”
“One not covered in blood,” Mikhail says, nodding. “Who knows? Maybe we’ll even be happy one day.”
I think about how Lia looked at me, the confusion, resentment, and pain in her eyes. “I wouldn’t count on that,” I say, turning away.
CHAPTER 12
DAHLIA
Itoss and turn on the silk sheets. The bed is almosttoocomfortable. I’m so used to my bumpy, hard mattress that this luxurious, soft one feels odd. I roll right to the edge of the enormous bed, then lie on my back, staring up at theceiling? What do you call the top of a four-poster bed? I tried closing the bed curtains a few minutes ago, but I felt locked in, trapped, even more than I already am.
The dinner replays in my mind, the sick coincidences, my mom’s suicide matching their dad’s, Mikhail’s orphanage setting matching my childhood. Despite all that, how beautiful Mila looks hits me the hardest. She was so glamorous in her dress, her hair styled, her makeup on point. She made me regret dressing frumpily right away.
Sighing, I get up, put on the fluffy bathrobe, and walk through the huge house. I can’t find any paint supplies, but I get a stack of printer paper and a pencil and go to the library. A small balcony opens from the double doors, looking over the estate.
I sit on the balcony, letting the soft nighttime wind gently caress my skin. I wish I’d begged Dimitri to stay, as selfish and patheticas that would’ve been. I wish I’d thrown myself at him, wrapped my legs around him, and rocked up and down to feel his hard lust grinding against me.
Pressing my legs together, I bite down, reminding myself nowisn’tthe time to let my thoughts gothere. I sketch the almost full moon, adding details where I can without worrying about the quality. It’s so weird feeling this tired and not being able to sleep. Even moving feels like an effort, but my eyes are fixed open.
