Page 82 of The Pakhan’s Heir

The house is deathly quiet. As I approach my stairs, I pause, looking up at the darkness beyond. I need to shower and go to bed, then get up early and get us all back to the business that pays us.

But before all that…

I know, even without seeing the light that I know is on under my bedroom door, that she’s waiting up for me. Maybe she wants me to reassure her that she’s safe. Or maybe she just wants to be with me after everything.

As much as I want to be with her… I can’t. Not tonight. Not right now.

The car ride home was long, leaving me to my own thoughts about what comes next for us. And I know this is the part in all the stories where the hero sweeps up his bride and they make love and live happily ever after.

But I’m no one’s hero. And this story isn’t a bright and shiny tale fully of sunny days and fields of flowers. I might get the girl in the end, but at what cost?

I turn away from the stairs and head to my parlor. I think I’ll have a drink first.

Into the parlor and straight to the bar and my liquor cabinet. I make myself a vodka on the rocks, then sit down on the couch.

Hmm. It still smells like her in here. Faintly, but it’s there hanging over my head like a misting cloud. I close my eyes and lean back, remembering the last time we were in here together… and how I completely lost my senses in her arms.

I told her that I loved her and she said it back. Neither of us have said it since. I can’t say whether she meant it or not, but… but I definitely did. I open my eyes and look down at the blood soaked into my shirt sleeves. I didn’t kill a man tonight for the sake of lust.

“Alex?”

I start and look over my shoulder. Yeva stands in the doorway, wearing a black silk robe, her hair mussed from sleep. She rubs her eyes and pads into the room.

“Go back to bed,” I say to her.

“I would if you weren’t so frickin’ loud coming in.” She walks around the couch and stops, her sleepy eyes widening as she looks me over. “What the fuck happened to you?”

I take a sip from my glass. “Slavik Sokolov is dead.”

Her mouth drops open with mild shock, then she closes it sharply. “I see. How’s Nona?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t talked to her yet.”

She crosses her arms and I can feel the judgment coming off her. “Does she know?”

“Yes, of course she knows. Look, it’s been a long night. I really just want to be alone right now.”

She doesn’t move. Her cold blue eyes are moving over me, analyzing.

“What?”

She shakes her head and says, “Nothing. I just figured… Well, Nona’s probably worried about you. She came in hours ago. Looked like Hell.”

I don’t respond. I sit and drink in silence.

“Listen, I’m thinking that whatever all happened tonight, you two should probably have a conversation or something. You both seem out of sorts.”

“Thanks for the advice.”

She nods, then she takes a step to walk away.

“Yeva, do you think that there was ever a point where Dad might’ve tried to talk Mom out of being a part of all this?”

She tilts her head. “What do you mean? Like, out of not marrying him?”

I nod. “Or maybe just… leaving and finding a better life than one that might get her killed. I mean, what happened to her was fucked up, but he had to know that there would always be a threat. He used to say that you know you’re doing something right if you’ve got enemies. He knew there were people out there looking to hurt him when Mom was killed.”

She sighs and walks over to the arm of the couch and sits down. “I don’t know. I guess if he did, then they must have come to some agreement about it. From what I understand, Mom wasn’t in the dark about much that goes on around here.”