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“Most people don’t deserve the terrible things that happen to them,” Dimitri says. “All I can do is try to limit the damage.”
“What if you’re wrong? What if you can do more?” I raise my voice, not even meaning to. I have this impulse to help Dimitri be the best he can possibly be. “What if you canbeatNikolai?”
“A war?—”
“It doesn’t have to be a war. It can be a trap. Let him see us together. Let him?—”
“Enough,” he says fiercely. “You just admitted it could make things worse. Now you want to put yourself at risk.”
“If I’m going to be a part of this life, I want to make apositivechange.”
“You are a part of this life,” he says, a warm note of disbelief in his voice, which sends shivers dancing over my body. “I never thought somebody could change me so much so quickly, but that doesn’t mean you understand it.”
He hangs up. I pull my hand back, ready to slam the phone into the receiver. Considering it probably costs more than most houses, that’s not a good idea. I storm out of the room and back to the library.
Mila leaps to her feet when she sees me. “Whoa! What’s up? What happened?”
“I just…” Suddenly, the library feels like it’s closing in around me. “Look at all this!” I kick up a bunch of newspapers, then go to the easel and throw it to the floor. “Look atme. I should be able to handlemyself, and now I have tobegto make something happen. I’m supposed to…”
I sit down, shuddering, wondering if I’m about to have a panic attack. I’ve only had a few in my life, but it’s like the old me has just collapsed into the new me. Not that long ago, I was stubbornly alone, listening to podcasts to help me become even more independently capable. Now, it’s like Iwantto be in this cage.
“The world’s not fair,” I say, getting my breathing under control. Mila watches me cautiously. “We should be able to help your brother. We should be able to do some good.”
“Maybe we can,” Mila replies. “Maybe we’ll have our chance.”
We sit in silence for a while. From where I pushed the easel, the paper has folded back, revealing the piece underneath it, the sketch of the woman with her baby. Suddenly, it seems offensive and ugly, or maybe I’m trying to make it seem that way.
“I always said I was going to be alone,” I mutter. “To myself, because I didn’t speak to anybody else. I always promised myself that.”
“Why would youwantto be alone?”
“Before, I thought it was easier that way.”
“And now?”
I fold my arms, staring at the sketch, like a piece of future reality trying to bleed through as a graphite hint. “I don’t know. It’s hard to think when everything happens so fast. It feels like a fever dream.”
“Yeah,” Mila says. “Tell me about it.”
She turns to the window, staring at the other house, and I know what she’s thinking about. I won’t press her on it. If I’m wrong, I don’t want to complicate things in the Bratva world, but I know that look. It’s the same one I feel reshaping my features every time I think about Dimitri.
“This is nice,” Mila says after a pause, picking up the easel and folding over the rest of the paper, fully revealing the sketch. “Who is it?”
“Oh, just… how I imagine my mom looked.” I’m choking myself up without even meaning to. “Before…”
Mila looks at me and frowns. “You haven’t had it easy, have you?”
“Neither of us has.”
At least we’re safe now.
Protected. Caged. Trapped.
CHAPTER 19
DIMITRI
Mikhail sits in the passenger seat, glasses perched on his nose as he rapidly types on his cell phone. Behind us, two more sleek black sedans drive, with another pushing ahead of us. We’re done acting like some small fish. Last night proved who the Bratva really belongs to. Our father managed to getone manwilling to turn against the Sokolov brothers—one.
