Total pages in book: 59
Estimated words: 56608 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 283(@200wpm)___ 226(@250wpm)___ 189(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 56608 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 283(@200wpm)___ 226(@250wpm)___ 189(@300wpm)
“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 you want to 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 get one man willing to turn against the Sokolov brothers—one.
Mikhail made short, bloody work of him, leaving him just this side of alive in case we need the prick.
“Working on your game?” I say.
Mikhail laughs savagely. He seems different from his usual lighthearted self, but it’s not like I can blame him. His eyes are heavy and introspective with what he had to do, the pain he had to inflict. “I’m covering our tracks,” he says, “by making it seem like we never looked into the Serbian’s cell phone record.”
“Angelo’s fielded all the calls from last night,” I reply. “If we can get Nikolai to back off, maybe we can return to normal.”
“Is there going to be a normal for you after this?” he says, taking off his specs and looking at me.
I stare at the road, refusing to meet his gaze. I know he’s talking about Lia.
“Is it that obvious?” I say as our civilian motorcade sits at a red light.
“She’s changed you, brother,” he replies.
“It’s been a week, less than.”
“And she’s changed you,” he says with more emphasis.
I focus on the road as the light changes. We’re meeting Nikolai in a private room in a casino. Mikhail drums his fingers on the dash. “Are you saying I’m wrong?”
“I don’t know what she’s done or how she’s done it,” I grunt. “I don’t know what’s happening. Our father died. I saw it. Then there was my woman, and it suddenly began spinning out of control fast. I need time to think.”
“You don’t need to think,” he says passionately. “I can see it. You’re different.”
“Why do you care so much? Last time I checked, neither of us has ever had a love life.”
“Maybe one of us can finally be happy.”
“You always said marriage was pointless,” I remind him. “You said making somebody a Sokolov would be the worst thing you could do.”
He smirks at me, but his eyes are hard and almost angry. “That’s why I love you so much, brother. You always remember every little thing.”
“Why do I feel like you want to swing on me?”
“When don’t I?” he says, trying to smirk away that serious look, but I saw how genuinely pissed he was. “Just don’t let Nikolai stop you. We can say it’s because of a potential war, but that means we’re letting him bully us, just like we let our father bully us.”
“Keep these thoughts to yourself when we’re in there,” I tell him.
He rolls his eyes but nods. The last thing I need is him going off-book.
“You can’t have a hacker’s mindset about this,” I snap. “Throughout history, leaders have wanted to seek fame, heal their nations, make a difference, and all those lofty ideals end in blood—always in blood.”
“History’s not really my thing, brother.”
“That’s why I’m in charge.”