Chapter 75
1225words
'What were you two up to down there?" I ask again, though it sounds less like a question and more like a demand.
They were clearly up to something in the cellar. Why else chase me out? Why else keep Mila from following? The last time I was among the wine casks, it was to have a secret meeting with Adriana. That place is designed for secrets.
And I'm not naive enough to ignore that when the Bratva is involved, secrets can hurt.
Secrets can kill.
Asher is wearing a basic black button-up shirt. The kind he normally would pair with a jacket, especially in this weather. His hand is still on mine. And I don't pull away, not yet. Not until I know where things are heading.
'We found out that Yannick has restarted his brothels," he finally says.
Horror jolts through my bones. 'How did you learn that?"
He stares at the ceiling briefly before he turns to me. 'Mila told me." He pauses a beat, like he expects more questions from me. Before I ask any, he adds, 'It can't stand. We have to shut it down."
'But how will you do that?"
'Mila has some … ideas." He works his jaw. There's something he wants to say, but isn't sure.
Gripping his hand tighter to reassure him, I whisper, 'Tell me."
Watching me closely, he lets out a slow breath. 'Your status as Yannick's daughter both complicates and simplifies things."
I pull my hand from his. 'I don't like where this is going."
Asher stares hard at my fingers. He's wishing we were still touching. I do too, but the urge is smothered by my rising fears. The last time we discussed my relationship to Yannick was in regards to marrying me for real.
That was a bad argument. I don't want a repeat.
'Several of my brigadiers abandoned me when they learned you were taken. They thought that I was vulnerable to Yannick. So, they jumped ship to join him. But if they learn that you," he grabs my shoulders, and I tense up from the strength of his touch, 'you, Camila, are his daughter, and not simply a pawn he is chasing, then they will return to my side."
The frost that was slowly consuming my heart thickens further.
'Will this be all that I am to you now? A way to control your men? A tool to keep you in power?"
His mouth drops open in shock. 'No, of course not." He digs his fingers in as if he's trying to reach the part of me that I'm sealing away. It's a futile effort. He might as well be scooping at the snow with his bare hands to clear an avalanche.
'The men who defected will be punished. No one who aids Yannick in his brothels or in harming you and your loved ones will be allowed to live."
The darkness on his tongue makes me shiver. Wrenching away, I recall our argument before I decided to flee his home. It's like fuel on the fire of my blazing anger. Asher watches me, waiting for me to speak.
Good. Because I have plenty to say.
'I don't want revenge. I just want an end to this nightmare." Thrusting my hand flat against my chest, I narrow my eyes fiercely. 'I want nothing except to go back to being Camila Marakov! I don't want to be treated like a Bratva princess or ever reminded that I share the same blood as that monster! Let me go back to living a life where nobody knows who I am! Just me, my mother, and peaceful obscurity."
I'm panting heavily from my declaration. Asher watches me warily, his face a mix of concern and adoration. It's enough that when he takes a step closer, I don't retreat.
'You can be whoever you want to be. But as long as you live …" His eyes drop to my belly. 'And as long as you carry my child, Yannick will never stop hunting you."
Then why did he release me? It's bothering me more than before. Asher says Yannick wants me in his clutches, but he set me free. Slowly, my mind turns to the SIM card he gave me. When the time comes, you'll know what to do. Did he foresee this moment?
A new thought suddenly takes shape in my head. I can slip it out from where I hid it, contact Yannick, and get some sort of answers. But what would the questions even be?
And more importantly, would it help? Will any of this help?
Going to Yannick won't end Asher's plans. I doubt even I can convince him to shut down the brothels. I'm in the same position as before.
I bite my tongue until I can taste blood. This feud between them is endless. They'll always be enemies. And just like that, my mother's warning returns to me once again. Nothing is ever settled when the Bratvas are involved, stupid girl!
On and on it'll go, this cycle of violence and vengeance. Once Asher kills Yannick, then it'll only be a matter of time before Roman starts seeking his own revenge.
Asher stares at me in silence. At first, I think he's reconsidering his words. But the longer it goes on, the quicker I realize that he's waiting for me to start talking again.
But I have nothing else to say.
There's no magical phrase to get me out of this mess.
Abruptly he moves, his muscular arms capturing me, cradling me to his chest. His smell fills my nose. I remind myself I want to hate this. But God … I don't—I can't.
He whispers hoarsely, his face in my hair. 'No matter what happens, you will always be my ptichka."
That's the problem.
I can't escape the Bratva.
I'm trapped ...
Just like Mom.
Our monsters may wear different faces. But they're the same.
Asher holds me tight; it takes some work for me to wiggle free. Once I do, he stands there with his arms at the ready, one step away from grabbing me again. It's incredible that he can resist.
'I need some time to myself. This is all just … just so much to take in."
The pain in his eyes cuts me. I'm used to seeing his pain by now. Most of my soul is covered in scars from our emotional war.
Twisting, I realize we're not alone. Layla is standing in the doorway, watching us. Her hands are choking the front of her long, pleated skirt. Her concern rivals Asher's, turning her blue irises pitch black, the rest around them a blinding, bulging white.
I've seen this expression before. She's terrified for us. The last time we fought, she had to help me slip away in a wooden box. And she has yet to tell me what punishments she suffered for helping me flee. I don't plan to escape like that again. If I leave, it will be out the front door with my head held high before I go in search of my poor mother.
As I storm out of the kitchen, Layla's eyes meet mine, then skid away.
She doesn't speak to me as I pass. She doesn't need to.
There's nothing she can do for me anymore.
