45. Vadim
45
VADIM
LATE AT NIGHT
The wipers slash back and forth across my windshield as I pull up to the safe house in Monroe. Rain pelts down in thick sheets, matching my dark mood. Demyon waits under the overhang, his broad shoulders hunched against the weather.
"She's inside," he says as I step out. "Pain in the ass getting her here without being followed."
I nod in acknowledgment. My hand is wrapped under a roll of bandages, and still throbs where Lacey bit me. But I welcome the pain.
It sharpens my focus, and reminds me just how quickly everything has moved in the last thirty-six hours.
"Need me to go in with you?" Demyon asks.
"No." I open the door. "This won't take long."
Inside, Megan Huang sits in an armchair, arm crossed. Her posture is rigid but unafraid. Her chin juts out in the same defiant way as Lacey's. And when she sees me, her dark eyes narrow with the fierce determination.
Despite looking nothing alike, only a fool can claim that the two of them aren't sisters.
"Ms. Huang," I greet her. "I trust these accommodations are to your liking?"
"Comfortable enough for being kidnapped by your blond boy toy outside." Even her voice carries the same sharp edge as Lacey's. "I'll leave you a five-star review when you let me go."
I can't help but smile.
Yep. Definitely Lacey's sister.
"Where's my sister?" Megan demands.
I think about Lacey confronting me yesterday, about the concern in her voice when she told me that Megan was missing, and about the marks I left on her body. Guilt washes over me, but I shove it away.
I sink into the chair across from her. "She's safe."
"That's not what I asked."
"She's home," I answer, and then add. "At my home. Does that satisfy your curiosity?"
"What happened to your hand?" Megan's gaze zeroes in on my bandage.
The wound throbs, a constant reminder. I flex my fingers, feeling the sting where Lacey's teeth broke skin. "Your sister bit me."
"What did you do to her?" Megan launches forward in her chair, voice sharp with fury.
Her protectiveness reminds me of how Lacey defended Mrs. Klossner's dry cleaner from me. God, was that really only three weeks ago? The same fire burns in both sisters. But where Lacey's flames dance with grace, Megan's blaze with raw aggression.
"Nothing you need to know about." I keep my tone neutral, measured.
"Like hell I don't!" She slams her palm on the armrest. "If you hurt her?—"
"Ms. Huang." I cut her off. "There's much we need to discuss."
"Why did she bite you?" Megan's eyes narrow with suspicion.
I study the bandage, and the answer comes surprisingly easy. "Because she wanted to hurt me."
That draws a smirk to her lips. "You probably deserved it."
"Probably." I nod. "But again, we have much to discuss. Specifically about you, Ms. Huang. I know you're the social media manager for the Seattle Voice. I know you have a degree in journalism. I know that you were quite the prolific writer during your college years. And I think I speak for both of us when I say that you want to do more than manage a podcast's TikTok accounts."
Her aggression tamps down just slightly and her eyes widen as I rattle off details about her life. Good. She understands I've done my research.
"Is that why you brought me here?" she asks. "Are you going to threaten me into silence? Make me disappear if I don't?"
I think about how keeping secrets from Lacey is what led us to the awful events yesterday. The taste of her tears is still fresh on my tongue. I won't repeat that mistake this time.
"No, Ms. Huang," I say. "I intend to work with you."
"Work with me?" She barks out a laugh.
"Lacey must've told you everything about me."
"She told me enough, yes. About Nathan being in human trafficking. About some guy named Kirsan who uses fashion to lure in his victims." I can see the questions burning in her eyes. "Is any of it true?"
"Yes." I nod. "Every word."
Megan's face remains impassive at my revelation, showing nothing to betray her thoughts. Most people flinch when confronted with the reality of human trafficking. But she maintains her composure, letting the silence stretch between us. I'm impressed.
After a few seconds of silence, she breaks the quiet.
"How do you intend to work with me?"
"The Seattle Voice could help expose Kirsan's activities," I explain. "Force him into the light where he's most vulnerable."
"That's exactly what I told Lacey!" Megan leans forward, eyes bright with vindication. "But she insisted I stay out of it. Said it was too dangerous."
"Your sister is right." I flex my injured hand, feeling the sting. "Kirsan won't hesitate to hurt you or your family if you expose him."
"I can keep my identity hidden," Megan argues. "Use anonymous sources, protect?—"
"It won't matter." I cut her off. "Your brother Freddy owes substantial gambling debts to Kirsan's illegal casinos. Over half a million dollars."
The color drains from her face. "What?"
"The moment you get involved, Kirsan will know exactly who to squeeze. He will come for your family through those debts." I let my words sink in before continuing. "Right now, the only reason your family remains safe is because Lacey never took the last name of Huang."
A bitter laugh escapes Megan's lips. "Well isn't that fucking ironic?" She shakes her head. "The one thing Freddy always used to hurt Lacey ends up being the very thing keeping him—and the rest of us—safe."
I don't say anything, and she keeps talking.
"I saw that necklace on Lacey, by the way. Mom's necklace." Megan's voice softens, her earlier aggression melting away slightly. "It felt like having a small piece of Mom back with us. Especially after Freddy fucking pawned it."
The pain in her voice mirrors what I've heard in Lacey's when she first told me about the necklace.
"Mom used to wear it every day." Megan wrings her hands. "Even during chemo. When everything else felt wrong, that necklace was the one constant. The one piece of normal we had left." She swallows hard. "Why did you get it back for her?"
"Because it was important to her." I flex my injured hand, remembering the way Lacey's tears fell when she first mentioned the necklace.
"Just that?" Megan asks. "No other reason?"
"No other reason." I meet her gaze steadily.
"You know?" Megan's posture relaxes slightly and she stares at her hand as she talks. "It actually makes me feel a bit better knowing you did that for her."
When she brings her eyes back towards me, whatever softness at the thought of her mother's necklace evaporates.
"But tell me this," she starts. "Did you kill Nathan?"
The question hangs between us. I think about telling her she doesn't need to know this, but I can't. Hiding the truth about Nathan is what led to this mess in the first place.
But confessing to murder to someone outside of the bratva so openly poses other dangers.
I'm still pondering whether I should speak when Megan holds up her hand. "Don't bother. Your silence told me everything."
She leans forward, her voice barely above a whisper. "Final question."
"Go ahead."
"Do you love my sister?"
"Yes." The word slips out instinctively.
It's the fucking truth.
I love the way she stands up to me, refusing to be cowed even if she is aware of the power difference between us. I love how she fights for others, putting their needs before her own. I love the way she loses herself in everything she does.
The truth of it settles in my chest with the weight of certainty: I love Lacey McKinney. And nothing, not even my own demons, can change that.
"Then listen carefully, Mr. Stravinsky." Her voice hardens. "If you love my sister, then don't you ever hurt her. She's been hurt enough by this world. I don't care if you're a billionaire mob boss with an army of killers at your beck and call. If I find out you hurt my sister, there's nothing that will stop me from making you pay."
Megan's words cut deeper than Lacey's teeth ever could. The wound in my hand throbs, a stark reminder of how I've already failed that.
I think about Lacey's screams echoing through Pankration yesterday. About the way she begged me to hurt her. About how I gave in to that request, and became everything I swore I would never be.
Silence stretches between us. What can I possibly say? That I've already failed to live up to her request? That while the marks I left on her body might fade, but the emotional scars will never heal?
Megan, however, interprets my silence as acceptance.
"Now that's settled." She straightens in her chair. "Tell me how the Seattle Voice can help expose Kirsan."
"I can feed you every bit of information about Kirsan's operations," I explain. "Names, locations, financial records. A drip at first, but more and more as you build engagement on social media. We'll keep everything in the news cycle until it becomes impossible for people to look away."
"And my family's safety?" Megan asks.
"Give me some time to figure something out. Until then, you'll need to stay here." I gesture at our surroundings. "The safe house is well-stocked with everything you might need."
She smirks. "I'm sure your big blond boy toy will be thrilled to play babysitter."
Despite everything weighing on my mind, I can't help but smile at her words. "I'm sure he will be."
She sighs. "He could've at least bought me dinner first."
"I'll be sure to let him know."
"Oh," Megan says. "Before I forget."
She gets up, walks to the corner of the room, and picks up her purse. Reaching into it, she pulls out Lacey's engagement ring.
"I believe this belongs to my sister."
"Thank you." I rise from my chair and accept it from her. My fist close around it gently, and I extend my un-bandaged hand to her. "Good night, Ms. Huang."
"Good night, Mr. Stravinsky." She takes my hand in a firm shake. "And I mean it about what I said. About what I'd do if you hurt my sister."
I nod and, without another word, step back out into the rain, eager to return to Pankration.
To Lacey.
The rain pelts against my windshield as I pull up to Pankration's gates. Through the downpour, I spot a figure standing there—a woman, her blonde hair darkened by the rain.
It takes me a moment to recognize her, but my heart stops when I do.
Mom.
I kill the engine and step out into the storm. Water immediately soaks through my suit, but I barely notice. My feet carry me forward of their own accord.
"Mom?" My voice comes out softer than I intend "What are you doing here?"
Polina turns at my voice. But when she sees me, she flinches, taking a half-step back. Fear creeps into her storm-gray eyes, and her lips start trembling.
Even after all these years, she still can't bear to be near me.
She still can't escape the deep wounds Pyotr left on her mind.
"It's me," I say gently. "Not him."
She shakes, whether from cold or fear I can't tell. Her eyes remain fixed on me as she blinks fiercely.
"Mom," I whisper. "Please."
Slowly, so slowly, she raises her gaze to meet mine. Recognition floods her face as she truly sees me for the first time tonight. The mask of terror cracks and crumbles.
“Vadim…” Her voice breaks.
She stumbles forward and I catch her as she collapses against my chest, her thin frame wracked with sobs. I hold her close, hardly daring to breathe. How long have I dreamed of holding my mother like this? Of her seeing me as her son rather than Pyotr's shadow?
"I wouldn't be here if... if I had any other choice." she chokes out between sobs. "But I don't. I don't know where else to go."
"What's wrong?" My heart starts racing. "Tell me what happened."
Her fingers dig into my arms with desperate strength. Rain streams down her face, mixing with tears. The sight of her like this—broken and terrified—rips open wounds I've spent decades trying to heal.
"He took her!" The scream tears from her throat, raw and primal.
"Who?" My mind races through possibilities, each worse than the last.
"Serena! My baby girl. My daughter." Her voice cracks. "Kirsan took her this morning!"
The world tilts sideways. Daughter?
I have a sister. The revelation lashes at me as fierce as the wind and the rain, leaving me struggling to breathe. But there's no time to process this.
Not when Kirsan has her.
"Come inside and get warm," I say, trying to guide her toward the house. "We'll figure this out."
"No!"
She jerks away violently, shrieking, when I start moving towards the gates of Pankration. Her eyes widen as she gazes at the mansion's looming facade in terror.
"Don't make me go back there. Please don't make me get any closer than I already have!”
My heart breaks at her terror and the way she recoils at the very sight of the place where Pyotr destroyed her life.
"Okay, Mom." I promise quickly, reaching for her trembling hands. "We can talk here."
She lets me take them, but her fingers are ice cold. Whether from the rain or her panic, I'm not sure. Probably both. I want nothing more than to shelter her from this storm, but I won't force her anywhere near that mansion.
"Look at me, Mom," I whisper. "I'm not him. I will never be him."
The words sound unconvincing in my mouth after what I did to Lacey yesterday.
But I push that guilt aside. This isn't about me.
Mom's eyes finally meet mine. There's recognition there now, mixed with decades of pain I couldn't protect her from. She searches my face as if making sure that it's really me standing before her.
And not him.
"Please," she finally whispers in the rain, begging. "Bring my baby back. Bring her back before that monster can do to her what he did to me!"
The raw desperation in her voice slashes at my heart. Gently, I give her cold hands a reassuring squeeze.
"I'll get her back, Mom," I promise. "I swear it."