Chapter 36
Chapter thirty-six
Alisa
“The Pakhan is almost here,” my father said.
I almost welcomed the way the words took me out of my memories. For the last week, I’d been replaying the flashbacks of Dmitri’s and I’s sexscapade.
Surprisingly enough, it wasn’t just the physical moments. I couldn’t stop remembering how completely safe and at ease I’d felt.
The complete opposite of the way I was feeling now. My father began pacing around the room, and out of habit, I held my breath, not wanting him to focus on me.
Despite what I’d felt in Dmitri’s arms, there was no such thing as true safety. I’d discovered that when I was five and had accidentally bumped into my father’s liquor cabinet. He hadn’t just taken me over his lap, and belted me like so many parents in the Bratva.
No, he’d thrown me against a wall, and punched me until I was so bruised that I’d needed to take the week off from school. There was no such thing as safety, and if you started getting hopeful…
Well, that was a surefire way to get hurt.
“Alisa,” my father growled. Instinctively I shrunk into myself as if to make my body a smaller target. “Are you listening to me?”
“Yes, sir,” I said. My stomach rumbled, and I flinched at the noise.
“That stupid doctor,” my father muttered to himself.
That wasn’t what he’d said earlier today when he’d brought me to an appointment with Dr. Poison, and demanded he increase my dosages. My father was worried that I was losing my edge, and that I needed to pick up the slack.
The doctor had warned us that my body couldn’t handle much more. Predictably, my father had pressured him into doing exactly that. On the bright side, I thought it’d deter my father from taking his irritation out on me today. Wouldn’t want me throwing up on his suit.
The door opened, and the expression on my father’s face changed from irritation to slimy deference.
“Viktor,” the Pakhan said to my father. His sharp eyes landed on everything in the room as if searching for a hidden snake to jump out.
Despite my protesting stomach, I stood up and bowed along with my father.
“I’d like to speak to Alisa alone,” the Pakhan said, and my stomach cramped at his words.
Predictably, my father scrambled out of the room, not one to protect his children. A million scenarios swam through my brain as the Pakhan silently made himself comfortable on the most opulent chair in the room. Was this how I was going to go out?
No, the Pakhan would’ve sent someone else to do his dirty work.
“I’ll skip to the point,” he said.
He leaned back in the chair and stared at me as if this were his domain instead of my childhood house. In a way it was. After all, my parents lived off the generosity he gave to the candidates’ parents.
I discretely glanced around the room for a weapon, but the closest thing was a vodka bottle. Might as well inflict a little pain if he had decided to kill me.
“I want you to tell me about Dmitri,” he said.
All thoughts of weapons disappeared.
“What?” I said before I could squeeze the word back down my throat.
The Pakhan continued on as if I hadn’t even spoken. “Tell me everything you’ve noticed about Dmitri during your missions.”
Dmitri’s words last week echoed in my ears: There’s always a reasoning behind the Pakhan’s decisions.
The Pakhan had likely paired us together, so I could spy on Dmitri. Even now, I wasn’t worthy of the Pakhan’s interest. I was merely a tool for him to use.
The Pakhan smiled at me, but there wasn’t a hint of warmth in the depths of his eyes. “Now.”
I swallowed, and a thousand little memories of Dmitri sprang to mind. The way his eyes lit up before a sharp witted comment came out of his mouth. The way he’d protected me against Jayden.
In those moments, he’d unknowingly exposed a part of himself, and I could exploit those details to get the Pakhan off my back. Before that thought had even fully processed in my mind, my body screamed its complete and outright opposition.
Still, I was all too familiar with the consequences of not following the Pakhan’s direct orders. Was I really going to risk his wrath to protect Dmitri?
“I wasn’t aware that I was supposed to be watching him,” I said. My smile was a bashful mask that I’d often used on my father when I was trying to delay a beating. “I was too busy focusing on the missions.”
The Pakhan’s eyes narrowed, and I started to doubt the sheepishly earnest tone of my voice. Was he seeing straight through it?
A moment later, he nodded dismissively and stood up.
How easy it was to play the part when he already believed I was a useless tool that would never be worth worrying over.
“Be prepared next time,” he said, not bothering to look over his shoulder before he strode out of the room.
Once the door closed, I slumped onto the couch. Relief flooded through me along with hatred, some of it internalized.
I’d been alone with the man who’d ordered the death of my brother. On my most painful nights, I secretly daydreamed of plunging a knife into his throat. Even though I’d be signing my own death sentence if anyone so much as suspected that I felt that way.
Yet, the moment I was actually alone with him I’d just sat there looking helpless and loyal.
I was rubbing my sore stomach when I felt the vibration of a text. I laughed when I read it.
Another mission with Dmitri. Now.
The Pakhan wasn’t in a patient mood.