Page 51

Iwatch the restaurant my father has frequented for twenty years from across the street in the shadows. He's been doing business here for twenty years and hasn't changed a thing about his routine, even in the midst of his war. It sits in the heart of Sokolov territory, where I used to know every corner and shadow where a man might hide. Now I stand in the darkness and wait for Alexei to make his move.

After convincing Alexei to work with us, we set out a plan as to how we could make it happen. I have to speak to my father, and Alana must speak to hers, and at least one of us must get through to them. If not, we'll be forcing their hands and potentially make this war worse in the long run. But we have to try.

It's late September, and the breeze carries the promise of winter, biting my skin. I pull my coat tighter and watch the door. My father emerges just after ten, his guards flanking him like shadows he can't shake. His hair is grayer, shoulders heavier with stress, probably because of the hundreds of lives that have been lost to this constant fighting. But he moves with the same confidence he always had, that same certainty that the world will bend to his will.

It's arrogant, and though I once thought him the most powerful man in this city, he's just not. The tide is turning on this city and with enemies encroaching on what was once ours, I'm hoping my father will see the threat for what it is. An alliance between the Sokolovs and Volskayas may never happen, but peace in the name of a common enemy just might.

It worked for Alana and me. Maybe it will work for our fathers.

Alexei approaches the guards first, walking confidently. He has no reason to fear them, nor they him, so he speaks to them, gestures toward the alley where a car supposedly has trouble, creating a distraction that pulls them away from their posts. I wait until their backs turn and my father's path to his car lies open, and then I cross the street.

He walks alone, confident in his own backyard that no one will touch him, but he starts when I call him.

"Father," I say, and he stops, turning slowly, as his eyes widen when he sees me. But they narrow just as quickly with a hatred I expected but still feel painful. I may never see the expression of pride in his eyes when he looks at me again.

"You," he says, and his hand moves toward his weapon, but I don't pull mine or flinch. He will threaten, but he won't kill me himself. He'd use a hired hand if he were going to do that. I know that much about him, at least. "You dare show your face here? After what you did?"

"I came to talk," I say, keeping my hands visible, palms out—the way I did when we met with Alexei. "I came to end this war before it destroys everything you've built."

He scoffs and rests his hand on the butt of his weapon, exposed so I can see it, but he doesn't draw it yet. "End it? You ran away like a coward, abandoned your family, abandoned your duty, and now you speak to me of ending a war you started?" He steps closer, and I smell vodka on his breath. It's the scent of a man who drinks to forget the cost of his pride. "You betrayed us, Dimitri. You chose her over your own blood."

The oversimplification of that fact is grotesque, but pointing it out would be futile. He sees me as choosing her. In reality, I chose the right path—where men are held accountable and the council's rule stands.

"I chose justice over vengeance," I tell him calmly, but I'm anything but calm. I'm well aware that Alexei may lose those guards' attention as easily as he gained it, and if they see me, they won't hesitate to shoot. I'm still a traitor in their eyes unless my brother works his magic. "I walked away because you refused to follow the code, Father. Ivan wasn’t innocent."

"Of course he wasn’t innocent," he spits. "There are no innocents in this business. There are only the strong and the weak, and a Pakhan can't afford weakness or mercy. I taught you that, and you forgot it the moment you laid eyes on that Volskaya woman."

"Don't speak about her at all," I say, and my control starts to slip. I won't tolerate anyone talking about Alana like that ever again. "You don't know what this war's cost everyone. The Korelovs are picking us apart while we fight each other, and you don't even see it. You're so blind with rage that you're destroying the very thing you claim to protect."

I see something flicker in his expression, but anger crushes any hint of understanding immediately. "I see a son who betrayed his father," he says quietly. "You're a weakness that needs to be eliminated before it infects the rest of the family."

He raises his hand to signal the guards, and I know in that moment that he won't listen, that he'll never listen. The man who raised me is gone. I'm not sure if the man I thought he was ever existed, but I know he will never follow through on any threat to harm me himself. He'll need to use his men and he's calling them now.

The guards start toward us, Alexei's distraction failing, and I feel the trap closing. The closer they get, the hotter my chest is until Alexei steps between us, weapon drawn, his face hard as stone. "No," he says, and his voice carries the authority he's earned. "You don't touch him," he snarls at the men, pointing the gun right at them. Two men standing off, face to face to give orders to the soldiers who are loyal to them both. The men don’t have a clue who to listen to, and I'm not going to run and make it easy for them. This war has to stop.

My father stares at his youngest son, and a flurry of emotions washes over his face—confusion, rage, hurt, and disappointment. "Alexei," he says. "You'll stand with him? Against me?"

"I stand with what's right," Alexei says, but he doesn't lower his weapon. "This war's destroying us, Father. It's destroying everything we built. And I won't let you destroy my brother to prove a point about strength."

My father looks between us, and I see the moment when he realizes that both his sons have turned against him. "Then you're both dead to me," he snarls, turning toward the car. "You're no longer Sokolovs. You're nothing."

"Maybe," I say, and I feel Alexei's shoulder brush mine, the solidarity in that touch. "But we're going to end this so no more blood needs to be shed."

With the two of us together, the guards don't know what to do, and my father doesn't give an order to take us out, so they turn and climb in the car with him, driving off, leaving us standing in the dark street watching them speed away.

Ending this war won't be as simple as talking or negotiating and hoping for peace. My father will never surrender or negotiate. He'll burn everything down rather than admit he's wrong.

Ending this war may require me to confront the empire I abandoned and become the very thing I ran from, to take control of the Sokolov family not because I want power, but because I'm the only one who can stop him from destroying everything.

It feels like a heavy burden, but I know I can't run from it this time.

I've got to stand and fight.

33

ALANA

"Are you sure about this?" Natalia asks, seeming skeptical. I study her face, wondering exactly what happened when I left to make her so hesitant. She used to be so confident and hell-bent on doing exactly what she pleased, and now she's timid.