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The only person who hasn’t shown her face yet is Kira, and I know why. Guilt, overwhelm, shock—it’s been a tremendous amount for a twenty-one-year-old to process. There may have been no love lost between Kira and Oleg, but his cruel words and violent demeanor in that abandoned warehouse will stay with her forever. It was painful to watch.
All of that has had her holed up in a room on our estate. We’ve let her have the time to process everything in her own way. Having her here with us is the only ray of sunshine during the bleak days of wondering if Georgia will ever be herself again.
“I’m sorry.” Kira’s voice carries over the quiet room. I look up to find her bathed in the moonlight leaking in through the heavy drapes. She’s speaking to me, but her red-rimmed eyes are on Georgia. The black eye Oleg gave her stands in sharp contrast to her alabaster skin, and I wish I could kill her father all over again.
“Kira.” I jump up and make a move towards her, but she holds up her hand.
“No, don't.” She looks away, like she can’t bear to see any softness in my expression. “I nearly killed her, and you. I nearly got us all killed. And Jake...” Her breath catches in her throat, and a fresh wave of tears makes its way down her cheeks.
“The only person to blame is your father. He’s responsible for these deaths, not you.” When she doesn’t look at me or respond, I grab her hand and lead the way through the open balcony doors onto a small terrace. We are overdue for a talk. “Sit,” I tell her gently.
She does as I say, but makes a face while dropping into the gray lounge chair. “I knew older brothers were supposed to be bossy, but somehow I think you’re a bit extra.”
I smile at that. “Georgia would definitely agree. Now that I think about it, so would Yulian, Daniil and Leo. But they’re bossy as hell, too. You’ll see.” I say with a wink. She remains quiet, and I can see the gears of self-loathing churning in her head. “Listen, Kira, no one blames you, and I know Georgia doesn’t either.”
Kira inhales the warm night air, gazing off into the distance. “She tried to warn me, you know. Georgia kept on telling me to just talk to you, that you’d listen to reason.” Kira sighs, her shoulders slumping forward. “I was such an ass thinking I could play with the big boys.”
I get up and grab bottles of water from the outdoor fridge, offering her one as I sit back down. “You come by it honestly,” I say, giving her a little punch on the shoulder. “You’ve got the Kozlov genes. We’re an audacious bunch.” She flashes me a lopsided grin and her smile reminds me so much of my mother's that my heart threatens to crumble in my chest. “You have no idea how much we’ve wanted to find you. The efforts we’ve gone to. We were even going to send Georgia into Oleg’s home to track you down.”
Kira’s head snaps up at my admission. “Why didn’t you?”
I hang my head for a brief moment and let the shame of my actions wash through me. Not that Georgia was not capable of doing what we asked of her—she proved herself more than capable—but I should never have put her in that impossible position.
“At the last minute, I realized I could not go through with it. Georgia still doesn’t know that. She was gone before I could tell her.”
“You mean I abducted her before you could tell her?”
“You did,” I admit. “And one day you’re going to have to tell me how you pulled that shit off. Either our security is really lacking or you are just that good.”
“I’m pretty good.” She smiles shyly and sits back in her seat, fiddling with the water bottle in her lap. “But I still have lots to learn.”
I rest my hand over hers. “Other than Georgia being hurt, this is the outcome we wanted. You, here with us, and Oleg, dead. This is what Georgia wanted as well—so much that she was willing to do whatever it took to help us find you.”
“For you,” Kira says quietly. “She was willing to do that because she loves you. I hope you can see it.”
My heart stutters in my chest, but I tamp down any hope that threatens to bloom prematurely.
We’re both quiet for a moment, lost in our own thoughts.
“I only wanted you to hear me out. All of this was just so you’d take me seriously enough to help me take down my father and then install me as the new leader.”
“It was a bold plan,” I admit, shaking my head in admiration. I pause for a minute and cock an ear towards Georgia, lying in the bedroom. The familiar sound of the machines helping her lungs fill with air. It’s one part reassuring and one part gut-wrenching. When I look up, Kira seems lost in thought.
“There is something I’ve been wondering about,” I say. “How did you know your father was a problem if he kept you far from his empire?”
She sighs and turns towards me. “Members of his brotherhood, the old-guard, weren't happy with how my father was leading the organization. He was destroying everything with his vices, becoming increasingly unstable and erratic. It was too dangerous to overthrow him from the inside, so they approached my Aunt Masha to help bring me into the fold. She was reluctant, but knew things would only get worse. Once we talked about it, I wanted to do my part.” Kira’s face settles into a grim line, her shoulders hang loose, all the fight drained out of her. “My father killed Masha and his men before we could put a plan in motion. So I moved forward on my own. He never thought I had it in me.”
“He never deserved you,” I say and mean it. The moment Georgia put a bullet between Oleg’s eyes might be one of the most satisfying moments of my life. It was payback for everyone I love that he took from me. My mother, my father, my sister.
“Oleg’s assets are yours now.” I point out. “You rule the Antonov Bratva, whether you like it or not.”
She shakes her head. “There is no more Antonov empire. I don’t want to lead with that name.”
“What do you want?” I ask her.
“We combine forces under the Kozlov name. My mother was a Kozlov after all.” She looks wistful. The night of the attack, Kira asked us to tell her about our mother. It was hard to recount, but we sat up until the wee hours of the morning sipping scotch and telling Kira about the good times—what we loved about her, her kindness, her joy, her realness. But we also shared with Kira the tragic circumstances of her death. It wasn’t an easy conversation, lots of raw emotions surfacing over what we lost, but the truth had to be aired.
“Nothing would make me happier,” I tell her honestly. I stand up and lift my shirt so she can see the newest ink addition to my body. It’s still healing, but it’s a stunning constellation—a swirl of stars exploding with color.
