Page 87 of Bratva and Betrayal: Kirill

Drago watches me carefully, saying nothing.

“I just hated her for so long,” I continue, my voice lower now, confessing. “That seemed easy, even when I found her. All I wanted was to bring her back and make her miserable. As miserable as I was.”

“And now?” he asks.

“Now,” I say, looking past him, seeing her in that dress, feeling her kiss on my mouth, the ache in my pants. “I’m falling in love with her all over again.”

Drago’s expression darkens. “That’s bad?”

“She can leave us again,” I murmur, feeling sick.

And this time…

I don’t think I would survive it.

Chapter 26

Sandrine

Aweek goes by, and I’ve found a hybrid existence between being a mother and a neurologically challenged patient. I learned the rhythm of Iron Keep, slipping into Violet’s morning routine.

Sometimes I wake her up. Sometimes she wakes me up. I help with her breakfast, but I’m still figuring out how to cook. Milia, the chef, helps me. Covers for me, really.

Kirill still brings Violet to school and picks her up. I see all the tasks he does for her are not out of duty. Nadia can technically do it all. Kirill thoroughly enjoys being a father.

When she gets home, I give her a snack and spend the rest of the afternoon with her. We play. We read. We sing.

In between, a driver brings me to Norridge. Some days, if Kirill is free, he joins me. He listens to the doctors and asks questions. He has Mid-West Iron and a brotherhood to run. He needs to know what his Madam Volkov is capable of.

My identity transition was abrupt, but the doctors are satisfied with how steady I am. The truth made me stronger, and it didn’t cripple me as previous therapists had predicted.

They’ve adjusted my medication. It keeps the pain away and steadies the storms in my head. The flashes come and go. They’re brief, shimmering fragments that slip away before I can fully grasp them.

After the evaluations, my treatment will consist of two visits per week. Speaking to Lourdes is strained. I try to forgive her for keeping so much from me. She didn’t know about Violet. Kirill never told Ares. I can’t spend this new chapter of my life being angry with people who believed they were keeping me safe.

Kirill and I have not kissed since the night he showed me my paintings. And each night after Violet goes to sleep, I find myself hoping he’ll kiss me again. But then I see him dressed all in black, and that signals he has several hours of being pakhan with Drago, and it will be another night when the brotherhood comes first.

These thoughts pass through my mind as I stare at the ceiling. Checking the clock this morning, I see I have a few minutes to start my routine. When the door to my room creaks open, I turn my head, and my mind immediately hopes it’s Kirill. But a thin silhouette slips in through a blade of light.

“Mommy!” Violet climbs carefully onto the bed and sits on my legs.

I smile at the halo of glossy, dark, sleep-tousled curls. But she’s still in her pajamas. Alarm rushes through me.

“Why aren’t you dressed for school?” I sit up, already pushing covers away to get her moving.

She dresses herself most mornings because she wears a uniform. On Saturdays, she picks out very creative outfits, mostly pants and sweaters that don’t match.

“It’s a snow day,” she announces with her hands in the air, then stands up to spin on the mattress in a burst of energy. “Nadia said I can stay home. Come play in the snow with me.”

She reaches for my hand, five little fingers wrapped around two of mine.

“Okay,” I say and hop out of the bed.

I stop at the window and smile at everything covered in white. All the years after my accident, I watched the snowfall from a window. I never got to enjoy it. I was kept inside. Protected. Caged.

I’m free!

“You need to put on warm clothes,” I tell Violet, stepping toward my closet. “And boots.”