Chapter 7 Petyr
PETYR
I sit at my desk in my home office with a stack of overdue reports in front of me. But I barely see the words. Right now, I couldn’t give less of a shit about work.
In my absence—my laser-focused search for Sima—papers have piled up on my desk. Once, Lev would have taken care of that. But Lev isn’t an option anymore. He’s rotting somewhere at the bottom of the Hudson, and his legacy is rotting with him.
I haven’t replaced him yet. Mikhael has been filling in alright as my interim second-in-command, and Ivan keeps helping however he can, but neither one of them is suited to this kind of work.
So I’m left with one choice: deal with it myself. Whether I feel like it or not.
Just as I’m thinking that, my pen snaps between my fingers.
“Blyat’,” I curse under my breath. Ink spreads on the papers, and I toss the broken pen aside in a fit of frustration.
I should be focusing. I need to be focusing on this. But it’s pointless—all I can think about is her. I can’t fucking push her out of my mind.
Every time I remember she’s alive, relief floods me. She’s in my home, safe under my roof. Under lock and key. I have her now, and she’s not going anywhere.
But then fury follows close behind. Because the reason I had to lock her up in the first place is that she already escaped me once. She risked herself and the child she carries, all for the sake of her stupid fucking pride.
My jaw aches from all the clenching. I roll my shoulders back, then force myself to pick up another document and reread lines I’m sure I’ve already read a thousand times.
But nothing sticks. All I see is her pale face, the tears clinging to her lashes when I left her in her new quarters.
She didn’t beg. Never once gave me that. Only threw my own words back at me like I was the one in the wrong.
But what exactly did she expect? That I’d let her roam free after she proved to me she can’t be trusted? Let her give me the slip again out of the goodness of my heart?
As fucking if.
Angry, I slam the report shut and shove it aside. My office feels too small and starved of oxygen.
I stand and pace to the window. The countryside stretches below. Usually, I find it relaxing. Today, all it does is make my skin crawl with impatience.
My reflection glares back at me from the glass. I take in my sunken eyes, deep bags, unkempt beard. Somewhere along the line, I stopped looking like the put-together pakhan I used to be.
Instead, I started looking like a man who has lost all control.
I turn from the window and drag my hand over my face. I don’t give a shit if she likes her new digs or not: she’s staying put. Here, in my home, where she belongs.
The image of her alone on the streets still haunts me. If someone else had gotten to her, if they had dared—
I grip the edge of the desk until my knuckles turn white.
I can’t help but wonder how much of this is my fault. If I had trusted Sima, maybe things wouldn’t have come to this point. We’d still be together, same as before, without all of these new secrets between us.
I should have believed her when she warned me about Anatoli. About Lev’s betrayal. Every word she told me back then turned out to be the truth. If not for her, I’d be the one rotting at the bottom of the Hudson right now, not that filthy traitor.
Instead, I accused her of helping her family try to murder my brother while he was in a coma, alone and defenseless.
It was the only thing that made sense at the time, but I know now that’s not how things went.
I rushed to judgment, and it cost me everything.
Worse, I never gave Sima the chance to explain herself properly.
But whatever mistakes I made, she had no right to run from me. She’s my fucking wife. Mine. That fact alone should have anchored her to me. She took vows. Swore loyalty to me.
Then she ran.
So now, she doesn’t get to complain if she doesn’t like the way I’m treating her. She made her bed all by herself. Time to fucking lie in it.
No matter how badly I want to be in that bed with her.
A soft knock at the door snaps me out of my thoughts.
“Come in.”
For a second, against all reason, I expect Sima to appear. Even though I locked her up precisely so she wouldn’t wander, the hope stays with me as the door slowly cracks open.
But it’s not Sima who steps inside. Of course not.
It’s Kira. My sister-in-law. “Hope I’m not disturbing you.”
“No.” My jaw sets, but I try to hide my irrational disappointment from her. “Not at all.”
“I was hoping we could talk.”
I’d rather chop off my own arm than entertain any form of conversation right now, but I don’t tell her that either. “By all means.”
She shuts the door softly behind herself and lingers there for a moment. An empty chair is right across from my desk if she wants it, but since I don’t offer it, she doesn’t take it.
“I heard she’s back.” Her tone is light, playful even, but her eyes don’t match. “Do you really think it’s safe to keep a woman who betrayed you under this roof? Especially now, with her family ready to put a knife in your back?”
“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’re questioning me.”
“Of course not,” she hurries to say. “I’m just making sure you’ve thought it through. You’ve been at war with the Danilos for months. Now, she’s back here, living in this house like nothing happened. You don’t see the risk in that?”
I bite back my irritation. Kira’s been at my side every day since Sima left. She carried the weight I should have carried myself. She doesn’t deserve my temper.
“I don’t need to be second-guessed,” I tell her, soft but firm. “I know what I’m doing.”
“I hope that’s true,” she says carefully. “Because everyone else will start asking the same thing. They’ll wonder if you’ve lost your edge.”
“They can wonder all they want.” I shrug. “I run this house and this Bratva. Not them. Not you.”
Her eyes narrow. Then she exhales through her nose and nods. “Of course. Just thought I’d weigh in. After all, you have a blind spot when it comes to her.”
My fists clench at my sides. The mention of any blind spots regarding Sima makes it hard to let go of my fury. Even for the sake of my brother’s wife.
“You’ve been good to me, Kira. I don’t forget that,” I say. “But this isn’t your call.”
“I get it.” She shrugs, but I can tell she’s still bothered by it. Not that I particularly care. If Kira’s got a problem with Sima being here, she can damn well deal. “You’ll keep an eye on your wife and I’ll keep an eye on my husband. Order all around.”
I welcome the change of subject. “How’s Dimitri doing?”
“Making progress.” Kira’s mouth softens. “The doctors say it’ll be a long road, though. He has to relearn everything. How to walk, how to talk. Even feeding himself is going to be a challenge.” Her eyes cloud over with disappointment. “It’s bad, but at least now he’s awake.”
It’s the one piece of good news that’s come out of all this. While I was busy chasing after Sima’s tail across the country, a miracle happened: My brother woke up from his coma. The doctors didn’t think he ever would, but Dimitri always did love proving people wrong.
I nod once, jaw tight. “I should go see him.”
“You should,” Kira agrees. “He keeps asking for you.”
I know, I think but don’t say. Because the truth is, I can’t stomach going to him. My brother, a man who once brought rooms to silence with a look, reduced to eating through a straw. I hate seeing him broken. It’s why I haven’t been visiting as much as I should.
“I will,” I concede. “Tomorrow.”
Kira nods. “Good. He’ll be happy to hear that.” Her gaze drops for a second. “I’m glad he survived, of course. I definitely am. But… Do you ever wonder if this is the kind of life he would have wanted?”
“What are you saying?”
“Nothing,” she says quickly. “Only that it’s hard to see him like this. The strongest man we knew, struggling with basic things.”
A chill creeps up the back of my neck. For a moment, it almost sounds like she thinks it might have been better if Dimitri never woke up.
That can’t be what she means, though. She’s been devoted to him longer than anyone. No one took it harder when he ended up in that hospital than her.
“He’s already beaten the odds,” I remind her. “Everyone thought he’d never open his eyes again, but he did. He’ll beat these challenges, too.”
Kira studies me, her expression unreadable. “You really believe he’ll come back from this?”
“He’s my brother. He’ll recover fully. Maybe not tomorrow, maybe not next month, but he will.”
Her shoulders ease, just a little. “Then I believe it, too. If you say he will, then he will.”
The tight smile remains, but Kira’s nod seems confident enough. She disappears back out the door.
A bitter taste fills my mouth. I’m not sure where it’s coming from: Kira’s words, her unconvincing smile…
Or the fact that it wasn’t Sima knocking on my door.