Chapter 33 Miko
MIKO
When I finally rise from the cloud of destruction and despair, the guilt sets in as I stare at the hole I put in Svetlana’s wall.
It feels as though I’ve finally surfaced from the depths of a deep, dark, frigid lake—only to realize it’s not a lake at all.
I’m stranded in the middle of the ocean, with no land in sight and nothing to grasp on to.
I’ve been cut adrift, and only I know just how dire my circumstances are.
But that doesn’t give me the right to take my pain and anger out on this old woman, and the remorse that threatens to swallow me whole steals the oxygen from my lungs.
Is this what Pyotr felt like after he hurt Anika? A soul-crushing self-disgust and hatred? Am I sick like him? Can I even be trusted around someone so precious as the woman I love?
I’m terrified that the answer is no.
But Svetlana doesn’t look fazed at all as she watches me with a steady gaze.
How many generations of abusive Novikov men has she survived to be so calm around my violent rampage?
I feel terrible for unleashing my anger and denial right in front of her.
Swallowing hard, I kneel before the old woman, collecting the gold locket from the floor as it burns like molten metal against my palm.
“Forgive me, Bisnonna,” I say, bowing my head as I gently press the jewelry into her hand.
The Italian word sounds oddly foreign on my tongue, and with a blast of pain and loathing, I realize that’s not just because Svetlana is the first woman I’ve had the privilege of addressing as my great-grandmother.
I’m calling her by her title in a language that’s no longer my own.
It never was.
I’m a Russian who doesn’t even know how to speak his native tongue.
A mutant mutt who has no clue about his own heritage.
“I’ll fix the damage I’ve caused,” I promise.
I don’t dare lift my eyes to gauge her reaction, and when Svetlana cups my face in both gnarled hands, guiding it upward, I feel like a child again.
“Perhaps you still have enough of that goodness that your brother lost along the way,” she observes, her harsh amusement replaced by a wise curiosity once more.
As if she’s finally seeing me clearly now.
“Pyotr had a hard childhood. It wasn’t easy carrying his father’s legacy upon his shoulders alone, knowing every day that the burden wasn’t his to bear, and yet bear it he must.”
I’ll never go so far as to forgive my brother for what he did to Anika.
The things he did, the horrors he put her through—some acts of violence are unforgivable.
But for the first time, I can start to understand him a little.
It must have been hard to take my place in the family, knowing every day that I was being raised to hate my own blood in a house just a handful of miles away.
“I wouldn’t dare go so far as to give credit to the man who raised you,” Svetlana says with dry humor.
“But perhaps it wasn’t the worst thing in the world that Don Augusta took you.
As horrible as that day was, it did break the cycle.
You have the opportunity for a fresh start, Miko.
The kind of man you are will be determined by how you move forward from here—now that you know the truth of it all. ”
The words of wisdom settle heavily on my shoulders, and suddenly, I understand why Anika trusts Svetlana so completely.
This old woman isn’t just maternal and kind. She’s wise in a way few people can achieve in one lifetime.
And she’s not afraid to speak the truth—even if she knows it will piss me off.
“You’re not senile at all, are you?” I ask, looking deep into her clouded gray gaze.
Svetlana tips her head back to release another cackle and pats my cheek. “If you listen to the doctors, they’ll do their best to convince you otherwise. But I wouldn’t mind if you told my Anika as much on occasion.”
I smile. “I think I can manage that.”
“So, tell me, Kasatik, what are you going to do now?” she asks, eyes twinkling.
“I’m going to call a family meeting,” I say. Then I gently grasp Svetlana’s arthritic hands and press a kiss to the backs of her knuckles. “Thank you.”
It doesn’t take long to have the family gathered in the sitting room of the Novikov compound—my three brothers and Anika all watching me carefully from their chairs as I pace before them.
I thought about asking Svetlana to join us. But these are my brothers, and as much as I want to call her family, the old woman is still a stranger to me.
There will be time to change that, but right now, I need to do this on my own terms.
“You’re going to walk a hole through that floor,” Gio observes.
My steps falter, and I glance toward Anika, most anxious to know what she’s going to make of what I’ve learned.
Will she be appalled with me for killing my own brother? Will she hate me for being related to her abuser?
“Seriously, Miko, spit it out,” Raf presses.
“We’ve heard rumors about a lost Novikov heir,” I start.
“That the Bratva would stand behind this man if they could find him.” I turn my eyes directly on Anika now, and after a long silence, she lifts her gaze to tentatively meet mine.
“So, I spoke to the one person I thought might know the truth behind it.”
“Svetlana,” Anika breathes.
I nod, looking back toward my brothers. “She’s Pyotr’s great-grandmother, a woman who’s been the matron of this house for the vast majority of nearly a hundred years.”
“And?” Gio asks, his eyebrows lifting.
“The rumors are true. Pyotr had a brother,” I rasp, my stomach knotting.
“Well, let’s go find the bastard and kill him before the Russians have a chance to unify,” Raf insists, slapping his knees and starting to rise from his seat beside Sandro.
“You’re looking at him,” I say flatly and wait for the truth to sink in.
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Raf asks, frowning as he drops back into his seat.
“Over thirty years ago, Don Augusta took Pyotr’s brother, the rightful Novikov heir, in order to punish the Novikovs for infringing on his territory.
And to ensure they never tried something like that again, he chose to raise that boy as one of his own.
I’m the Novikov heir. He kept me in plain sight so my family would know he always had the upper hand. ”
“Damn, Miko,” Gio breathes, his eyes soft with horrified sympathy.
I can tell from his expression that he believes me, as does Sandro, but Raf looks more skeptical as he assesses the story from every angle.
Anika is quiet, looking a bit more pale than usual, and I hope we can have a discussion about it later, in private.
I can’t imagine it would be easy for her, finding out that she’s married to the brother of her abusive first husband.
“Well, as far as I’m concerned, that doesn’t change the fact that you’re our brother,” Gio says finally, shattering the silence.
Rising from his chair, he crosses the room to gruffly grasp the back of my neck and pull me in for a hug.
I didn’t know how badly I needed to hear that until he said it, but relief floods me to know that, even if my world’s been turned upside down, I still have a brother I can count on.
“The same goes for us as well,” Sandro says, speaking for both the twins.
“I’m curious,” Raf says, taking the floor next. “If you’re the long lost Novikov heir, what exactly do you intend to do about it?”
“Well, assuming you don’t want to kill me, that is…” I tease, flashing him a wolfish grin.
Raf snorts. “Miko, I live in a perpetual state of wanting to kill you. That’s what brotherly affection is.”
I chuckle, shaking my head. “Well, since you asked, I’ve decided it’s time to reclaim my birthright.
If I can prove that I am, in fact, the missing heir and the Novikov men are willing to rally around me, that would change the game entirely.
I would essentially be bringing the Bratva into the fold—it would give us a legitimate foothold once more. ”
“Hell yeah,” Sandro says, his face splitting into a wide grin.
“And you still want to fight for the Chiaroscuros?” Gio asks. “Even knowing what our father did?”
His question holds no judgment, and I know my brother means it genuinely—he wouldn’t hold it against me if I chose to walk away now that I know the truth.
“I’m not fighting for Don Augusta anymore,” I say vehemently. “I’m fighting by your side, because you’re my brothers—no matter whose blood runs through my veins.”
The moment feels poignant as Raf and Sandro stand, coming to join me and Gio in what might be the first ever group hug in our family’s existence.
Despite all the devastation and confusion it caused to learn the truth, for the first time in my life, I finally feel like I’m exactly where I belong.
“Alright, get off me, you bunch of saps,” I growl as I feel the distinct absence of one person’s touch that I desperately crave right now.
My brothers chuckle, releasing me to head back to their seats as I look toward Anika’s chair.
But it’s already empty.
She’s gone.
She must have snuck out at some point, and my stomach knots to think of what she must be working through in her mind right now.
I want nothing more than to go to her, but my brothers are already moving on, asking questions about how I intend to break the news to Pyotr’s old captains—and what makes me think I can convince them to unite behind me when they scoffed at the idea before.
“Svetlana has already agreed to speak on my behalf—to verify my identity. And I intend to take a paternity test to remove any doubt from the table.”
“You’re already ten steps down the road on this plan, aren’t you?” Raf observes.
“Coming from you, I take that as a compliment,” I say.
“It is one,” he confirms. “We could call together all the main Russian patriarchs from the families who were loyal to Pyotr. Invite them to the house under the guise of peace negotiations.”
I nod. “I like that idea. Better to gather the decision makers without a room full of their hotheaded fighters to shoot first and ask questions later—or start another brawl before I even have a chance to speak.”
“I’ll put together an invitation they can’t refuse,” Raf says.
I nod. “Sandro, you mind finding me a paternity test? One that gets fast results would be best.”
“I’m on it.”
“Wait, where are you going?” Gio asks as I head toward the door.
I’m halfway there before I’ve given my answer. “To find where Anika slipped off to.”
I need to check on her.
I don’t like how pale she was when I sat them all down to tell them who I am—or how quiet she was afterward.
And this tingling sense of unease inside me has been growing with each passing minute.
I check the bedroom first.
It’s an easy go-to when my wife needs some time to herself.
When she’s not there, I glance out at the back garden in case she decided to take Svetlana for a stroll.
When she’s not there either, I start to retrace my steps.
I cross paths with Chastity halfway to Svetlana’s apartment, and my pulse quickens with relief. “Chastity, have you seen Anika? I’m looking for her, but no one’s seen her.”
“I… I-I…” she stutters, her shoulders rising to her ears in a look of acute discomfort.
“Please, it’s important,” I press, sensing she knows something but doesn’t want to tell me.
Without warning, Anika’s maid bursts into tears. “I’m sorry, Gospodin. Please don’t be angry!” she sobs, fear etched across her features. “I couldn’t stop her. I swear I tried.”
“Stop her from what?” I demand, my blood turning to ice in my veins.
“She’s gone,” Chastity wails. “She ran away.”