28. Sasha #2
“It was a setup!” he strains. “We were supposed to meet a contact from the Chicago branch, but it turned out they were out for me.”
“You mean me.” Kirill strolls to my side. “Your only power is being my brother.”
“Fuck you, motherfucker.”
I glare at Kirill for ruining the semblance of an agreement I was trying to build, but he merely ignores me. “Who was the person you were supposed to meet?”
“Ivanov,” he spits out.
My legs go weak. Did he just say Ivanov? No, surely this is a coincidence. There are a lot of Russian people with our last name. Maybe even from other nationalities as well, so it’s not like this person is related to me.
Besides, the only Ivanovs I know are back home.
“First name?” Kirill asks.
“Don’t know.”
“Description?”
“A burly blond guy who loves torture.”
“No shit.” He runs his gaze over Konstantin’s multiple injuries.
“Are you making fun of me?”
“I don’t know. Have you done something I should be making fun of? Getting yourself ambushed by some guy whose background you haven’t even checked does sound amateurish.”
“You fucking—”
“Let’s get him a doctor,” I intervene to avoid whatever war is about to start.
Kirill turns to leave, not bothering to consider my suggestion.
“Boss!” I call.
“Viktor, take him somewhere else so he’ll stop bleeding on my floor,” he announces, then leaves.
“That son of…” Konstantin wheezes, sounding delirious with fever.
“Let’s take him to a doctor,” I implore Viktor.
“Boss didn’t say that.”
“He also didn’t say to leave him to die. Come on, help me.”
He grunts, glances at the door as if he wants to be beside his tyrant boss, but then, he picks up the phone.
“Get the doctor to the house. We’re arriving in twenty with Mr. Konstantin. He’s injured and needs medical care.”
Then Viktor helps me carry a semiconscious Konstantin to the car. To be completely transparent, he holds most of the weight.
As we make our way out, there’s no sign of Kirill, Yuri, or Maksim in the halls or in the club’s VIP booth.
We arrive at the house five minutes after the scheduled time, and we’re greeted by a pacing Yulia. She’s in her sophisticated satin robe. For the first time, her blonde hair is gathered in a bun and her face is free of makeup, allowing some wrinkles of age to show through.
Upon seeing us, she pales, but her expression doesn’t change as she hastens her pace toward us. “What…what happened? Oh, Kostenka! Who did this to you?”
She pushes me away, and I nearly drop her son. “You…and you!” She punches Viktor’s chest. “Did Kirill tell you to do this? That…that devil isn’t satisfied with everything he’s done, so he’s now taking my son from me?”
“It’s not like that,” I say in a gentle tone. “Mr. Konstantin was tortured and thrown in front of the club, so we—”
“Mother…” he croaks, his voice breaking.
“Yes, dear? Mother is here now. Everything is going to be okay.” Her tone changes to that of motherly affection. A tone I’ve never heard her use on either Kirill or Karina.
She stops pushing and punching us, just so we can get him to the clinic. Once the doctor arrives, she kicks us out.
Still, I remain outside.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing, Lipovsky?” Viktor asks when I don’t follow him.
“I’m going to stay here in case the doctor needs anything.”
“Who the fuck are you? Mother Theresa?” He gets closer. “We got him help. He’s going to be fine. Other than that, we don’t mingle with him or his mother.”
“She’s Kirill’s mother, too.”
“Does she look like his mother to you?”
“Well—”
“Get the fuck out of here.”
“But—”
“I said out . Go wait for Boss in front of his room for night duty.”
I want to punch Viktor square in his stoic face, but something tells me that wouldn’t go over so well.
Begrudgingly, I tell one of the maids to notify me about Konstantin’s condition, then I go up the stairs to wait for his majesty the tyrant Kirill. Maybe I should pretend to be sick so that I’m not trapped with him in the same room.
I consider asking Maksim for help, but I don’t want him to get suspicious—
“Sasha!” a familiar voice calls me as soon as I’m up the stairs.
Karina clutches my wrist, drags me into her room, and closes the door. As usual, it’s filled with candles and weird mojo, but she at least has the curtains drawn back.
“What happened?” she asks in an alarmed voice. “I heard the maids talking about the doctor and medical care. Is…is Kirill okay? Is that his blood on your clothes?”
“He’s as good as the devil.” I clamp my lips shut, forgetting that I’m actually talking to his sister.
“Oh, thank God.” She releases a breath.
“It’s Konstantin. He’s the one who was hurt.”
Her shoulders drop, but she says nothing.
“Don’t you want to see how he’s doing?” I ask.
She shrugs. “Yulia is probably by his side, right?”
“Yeah.”
“It’s okay then. I’ll just hear about it from the maids.”
“He’s your brother, Karina. You’re not supposed to hear about it from the maids.”
“I would rather do that than see Yulia fawning all over him.” She purses her lips.
“He’s the only child she ever cared about, you know.
The only one she treated as her own. Bought him things, took him on trips, and gave him words of affirmation.
She looked at him with love, worried about him, and offered him the whole parental package.
She only ever looked at Kirill and me with disgust. Contempt, even.
When I started having panic attacks and anxiety, I went crying to her and asked for help like any scared daughter would ask her mother.
But when I hugged her, she pushed me away as if I were revolting and told me I got exactly what I deserved. She’s like our stepmother.”
“I’m so sorry, Karina.”
She wipes away the tears clinging to her eyes. “Stupid water coming out when it’s not needed. Don’t worry. I’m totally over that.”
“Okay.”
“I’m not scared or anything, but just in case, can you stay here until I fall asleep?”
“Sure.”
I remain by her bedside as she tells me stories and cool tidbits she’s learned online. She’s a serial comic writer and said maybe one day she’d tell me her pen name. While she struggles with the world, she’s managed to build her own miniature world where she feels more at ease.
After she falls asleep, I cover her with a blanket and silently step out of the room.
I get a text from a maid informing me that Konstantin is out of danger and asleep. Yulia is staying by his side tonight.
Releasing a relieved breath, I go to Kirill’s room. I’ve got Konstantin’s blood all over me from when I carried him earlier, and I need a change of clothes before I report to night duty.
The moment I open the door, black energy grabs hold of me before a hand wraps around my mouth. A muffled squeal leaves me as I’m dragged inside.
A dark, ominous voice whispers in my ear, “Shh. I need you to shut the fuck up, Sasha.”