Chapter 97
2136words
'Tell me everything," I say.
I'm standing in one of the large bedrooms in the cabin. There are four, but this is the biggest. It's the only space that can comfortably fit me, Mila, and six of my brigadiers. Kostya has placed himself dead center in the room, his shoulders pulled back, head high and static. The rest sit behind him in an arrangement of chairs I've had brought in from other rooms.
Mila is the only other one on her feet; she's picked the back right corner, huddling into the gap like she wants to be ignored. She keeps her arms tucked around her chest, her lips scrunched up.
Kostya clears his throat. 'Three days after you left, the police raided the mansion. They searched it up and down, turned it inside out, but of course, they found nothing."
'I assume they interrogated the staff?" I ask.
'Nobody said a word, of course."
Not surprising; my people are loyal down to their bone marrow. 'Good. What else?"
Kostya glances over at Nikolai. The lanky man jumps to his feet to speak next. 'The police left after they failed to get any evidence against you."
'They'll be back," Mila cuts in, pushing off the wall until she's standing in the middle of the room. 'The Winter Palace massacre was too newsworthy for them to give up."
Kostya eyes her thoughtfully. She eyes him back, and he tenses up, like he's become aware he's within reach of a rabid dog. 'Mila is right. Eventually they'll track you down here," he says.
'We could move you to a new safe house," Nikolai suggests.
Maximus snorts derisively. It yanks at the scar worming over his face. 'That would delay things at best, or put Asher at risk if they're watching the roads and they catch him traveling."
'That's why we'd be cautious," Nikolai huffs.
The group descends into rising levels of debate. People who were sitting now stand with their chests puffed out, gesturing for emphasis. This is the result of us all looking over our shoulders, waiting for the hammer to fall.
I hold up my hands to stop the arguments. Instantly, everyone quiets; they constrain themselves at my command. It's good to remind them that I'm in charge here. 'Mila is right," I say. 'We're on borrowed time until we can clear our names."
She graces each of them with a smug grin. Facing me, she opens her arms, making herself both vulnerable and appeasing. 'The solution is staring us in the face: we have to kill Yannick. Nothing has changed. I don't know why we're discussing other options."
'It's not that simple," I say flatly. 'There are other things that need to be done."
They return to bickering among themselves. I allow it, but only because I need a minute to gather my thoughts. Scratching at my temple, I walk across the room until I'm near the California king- size bed. They're fighting about logistics ... but there's much more to this situation.
I haven't told any of them about Roman yet. I'm not sure how to present it. Or if I should. The boy is a curveball none of them can predict. All the planning is a waste of time until they know what we're facing.
There's no avoiding it anymore. Lifting my eyes, I scan my brigadiers. Kostya catches my eye first; he stiffens, ending his heated talk with Nikolai. Maximus sees me next and turns away from Lev, the younger man's face a deep shade of red. Whatever Maximus was saying has riled him up. He works to calm himself when he sees I'm waiting for the room to quiet down.
Mila hasn't stopped staring at me. Her eyes are harder than diamond, fixed on me with as much intensity as an owl about to strike. I have their attention, I think grimly.
Here we go.
'There's one major complication," I say. 'Yannick has a son. Another one."
'How did you learn about this?" Mila gasps, taking a step toward me.
I shake my head quickly. 'It doesn't matter. His name is Roman, and he's ten years old."
'Ten years old …" Kostya whispers, his eyebrows scooting up his bald head. His concern is mirrored on the faces of my other men. They've all realized what he has. 'That means there's a chance he'll be initiated soon."
'Exactly," I agree solemnly.
Mila moves again, nearly on top of me. Her voice is a breathy warning. 'Asher, we can't let that happen. You can't let that happen."
'I'm open to suggestions."
'Kill him," Maximus says simply. 'Before he becomes a problem."
'Nyet!" I reply instantly. The word is stronger than I meant it to be. It makes Maximus grimace. 'He's just a child," I explain carefully. 'There are better options. Let's think this through from every angle."
Kostya and Nikolai share a look. 'Why?" Nikolai asks. 'He's a boy now, but he won't stay that way forever."
'I said we aren't killing him," I snarl.
Curling his upper lip, Maximus rolls his shoulders like he's loosening them up. He looks ready to spit at my feet. 'You've gone soft."
'He's right," Lev says in a harsh grumble. 'I thought the man I served would do whatever it took to lead the Bratva."
I didn't realize I'd moved, but suddenly I'm face to face with Maximus. Glaring down my nose, I don't try to curb the fury in my tone. 'I will do anything."
His scar crinkles from his scowl. 'Then stop being ruled by your emotions and embrace the ruthlessness that being a pakhan requires. I didn't choose you over Yannick by a coin flip. You're one of the most powerful men I've ever known. Or you were."
The veins in my skull are throbbing. If I bite down any harder, my teeth will crack. His words are worse than if he'd taken out a knife and buried it in my ribs. What hurts more than that though is how my brigadiers are all watching me with the same shade of disdain.
They agree with him.
Searching for some proof that I'm not alone in my decision to spare Roman, I turn toward Mila. She's holding her breath. Not even the dip in her throat flexes.
Mila meets my eyes, then turns away.
Clenching my fists at my sides, I back away from Maximus. He lifts his chin higher, clearly thinking he's scored a point. I can't allow that. Weakness here among my men is shedding blood among sharks.
They'll devour me.
I have to stop this before it gets out of control. Marching to the front of the room, I survey the group with careful precision. They manage to look at me, but the energy is all wrong. They're questioning themselves … questioning me. Lifting my arm, I point at Kostya; he flinches. Nikolai is next. One by one, I go down the line.
'Who among you would be willing to slit the throat of a child? Hm? Who here wouldn't hesitate to spill his blood while looking into his innocent eyes? You call me soft, but what you're demanding I do is the exact thing we'd condemn Yannick for."
Maximus holds my cold stare. Abruptly he ducks his eyes to the floor. I jump on that the way a jackal would rip out the neck of a gazelle. 'No one should be able to murder an innocent boy without blinking," I state firmly. 'But fine, tell me there's no other option. Force my hand. If all of you tell me that I have to kill Roman, that you'd do the same, then I'll consider it."
'You won't!" It's not any of them that cry out. The voice comes from behind me, simultaneous with the door bursting open. Camila's eyes are dilated with fury. 'You will not touch that boy!"
'Camila!" I snap, whirling on her. 'Were you listening?"
'Of course I was! I could hear the arguing through the walls." She waves her arm to indicate that doesn't matter. 'You promised me that you wouldn't and yet the moment I turn around, you ask that of your men?"
'You can't be here," Kostya says, moving to block her from reaching me. Camila flares her nostrils—I swear she's about to slap him out of her path.
'It's okay," I say, putting my hand on his shoulder to move him out of the way. 'Camila, you don't understand the situation."
'The situation?" she mocks me. Her hair flies from side to side like a lion's mane, her eyes flashing with a similar feral hue. 'You can save him the same way you promised to save my mother! It doesn't have to be this way!"
Something black and slim shifts beside me—Mila, moving like a shadow. Her hands clasp Camila's elbow, tugging her toward the door. 'You need to leave."
'No!" she shouts, wrenching her body sideways, using all the force she can summon to halt Mila in her tracks. 'Someone has to stand up for Roman!"
'Camila," I urge gently.
'He is a child!"
My brigadiers are muttering to themselves behind me. I pick up slips of their conversation, words like weak and pathetic. They already suspect I've gone soft from how I argued against murdering Yannick's son. Now they're watching me be challenged by my wife.
I've never felt my position being tested so clearly. Camila, with her furious eyes, pink-lipped scowl, and rounded belly. My men judge me with their eyes on the back of my skull.
I can't let them worry that my backbone is gone. They have to see that I'll put the Grachev Bratva first. Camila has to understand. She has to. Mila catches my eye; she lets go of Camila, backing away, letting me fill the gap where she was. 'He's not just a child. He's on the cusp of being initiated into the Bratva as the sole heir of Yannick."
'Initiated?" she repeats cautiously. Suspicion creates wrinkles along her forehead. 'What does that mean?"
Mila's laugh is dry as sand. 'He'll be made to rape, kill, or both."
Bringing her hands to her lips, Camila moans in shocked despair. She turns away from Mila, searching my eyes for a hint of compassion. 'If we get him away from his father before that?—"
'If," I say the words like I'm cursing. 'We can't risk our lives on a bunch of ifs."
Her face falls. Her hands go next, hanging in fists at her hips. 'So you're willing to risk it all to kill a ten-year-old."
'I'm risking it all to save your mother and end this war!" I yell it out. I need her to hear. Everyone has to hear. I need to hear it. 'Everything I do is for you and for the good of the Bratva!" Camila cranes her neck to look up at me as I loom over her. She's expressionless. It's like I'm talking to the frozen lake outside. 'Roman is a Bratva prince. If he lives, he'll be what Yannick's men rally around. He might not want it, but he will be forced into it just by his very existence. Killing him isn't something I relish, but it's going to happen sooner or later. Will it make you feel better when he's a full-grown man like Yannick's last son?"
There are pleased murmurs from my men. It sends a thrill up my spine to know they're rallying around me. My speech reached them.
That's what I wanted. That's the goal. I need to be the pakhan they deserve.
My blood pumps quicker. I stare at Camila, waiting expectantly for her to show me a hint that finally, she understands as they do. I'm doing the right thing.
'You sound like him," she seethes.
'Who?"
'Yannick."
All of my joy melts away. 'Camila?—"
Her hair flips around her shoulders like a cape as she spins. She's taken to wearing it down recently, I think because she knows I like it. And I do like it. But seeing it sway as she vanishes out the door is torture. The pit in my guts grows so large I think I'll turn inside out.
She hates what I'm doing. Nothing I said can convince her this is how it has to be. I was sure if I used the right words, she'd come around. It was a foolish mistake to forget that, whatever she's been through, Camila doesn't belong in my world. She never will.
'My pakhan," Kostya says gingerly.
Unclenching my fingers, the knuckles cracking, I look over the room. All eyes are on me. The air of doubt has drifted away. All that remains is their quiet obedience … their eagerness for my next command.
My voice is steady. 'We're proceeding with the plan."
