Chapter 29
Chapter
Twenty-Nine
Sage
Walking through the front gates of my home estate next to Alexei Rushkoff feels strange. Strange in the way that it doesn't. In the way that as unnatural as it should feel, it just isn't.
For the first time, it feels like this truce between us might actually be real.
Will we kill each other one day? Maybe. But not today.
I take a deep breath as we walk up the gravel driveway. I forget all about what I'm going to say to my dad. I look into Alexei's eyes and he looks into mine.
We hate each other.
We don't.
"In you go, princess," Alexei says. He urges me towards the front door, but my feet stop in place. I'm terrified to face my father. If I wasn't, I wouldn't have ran.
I have prayed for this exact moment more times than I can count. Every time I snuck away to hold his hand, to talk to him and beg him to wake up. I love him more than anything in the world, and yet I can't handle my wish coming true now that I am faced with it.
As I'm staring at the front doors, they open. Freddie stops in his tracks as he sees us both.
"See you found the runaway," Freddie says, smirking at Alexei. The awkward tension between everyone seems to be gone now as Freddie looks over at Alexei. "Come on, bella. Your dad can't wait to see you."
"Really?" I say, sniffling and wiping my nose on Alexei's coat. To which I hear a groan in the background.
"Really," Freddie smiles. "It's you he's been asking for."
Freddie holds the door open for me and I cautiously head inside and go up the stairs. I'm halfway up the stairs when I freeze.
I hear it. I hear his voice.
Dad.
My eyes well up and for a moment I feel like I'm hallucinating, because it sounds so incredibly him. Something I'd almost forgot and thought I would never hear again. In his deep baritone and the grunt of his words as he argues with whoever is in the room with him.
I take further steps and gently push the door open, taking it in before he sees me. He sits at the edge of the bed, t-shirt on, and struggling to fasten his belt over the dress pants he's put on as Anton and our nurse try to force him back into bed.
"Get your hands off me Anton, I will get out of this bed," Dad grunts.
"You need to rest Dim," Anton says.
"I've had two years of sleep apparently, back off and let me out of here."
Anton sighs and steps back, much to the nurses disapproval.
Dad does his belt up and then attempts to stand, his wobbly knees shaking as he forces himself upright. He stumbles and grabs onto the side table for support, before his legs give out and he drops to the floor.
This is clearly what Anton expected to happen.
He lifts Dad back up and puts him into bed. "Your muscles are weak, you need to rest. Or you'll probably never walk again."
Dad bares his teeth, ready to argue, but I can't hold back any longer.
"Dad," I say, a lone tear falling down my cheek, stinging on my skin that is already puffy and raw from crying all morning.
Though he struggles on his feet, Dad looks like himself again.
In a coma in his bed, he never looked like him.
I could distance myself in ways. Because the person laying in that bed was never my father.
This man here, trying to force himself upright and out of bed within hours of waking… that's Dimitri DeMarco.
The door hits the wood where I stand in the archway. His eyes meet mine and he smiles, tears welling at the corners. "Anima mia."
I rush to my dad's side and jump onto the bed to hug him tightly. He lets out an oof as I grab him, but I don't regret it. I hold him tighter.
"I thought you weren't coming back," I say, closing my eyes and leaning into him. "I thought I'd never hear your voice again."
"I'm here, anima mia," Dad says, taking me in his arms in return.
I feel his kiss on my forehead and my body melts.
Months of tensions erodes from my being as I take him in.
It's only now that I realize how much weight I'd taken on myself since my father had been gone.
I open my eyes and see Anton, smiling fondly over the two of us.
Strangely, he looks lighter too. Far more like the uncle I knew and less like who he's had to become in the last year.
"I'm sorry, Dad," I say. "I didn't know how to face you."
"Don't you apologize," he says. "None of this is your fault." He strokes my face. But I see it as he narrows his eyes at my uncle. For all the choices he made, I don't think Uncle Anton ever expected to have to answer for them. Not to his brother.
My chest freezes over in panic as I wonder exactly what my dad has been told so far, and who is taking the blame for it... "Nicholas..." I say, my heart tearing at the words as I allow myself to say his name and not be afraid of it.
"I know," Dad says, squeezing his eyes. He won't cry, he never would. But I can see the pain behind his eyes. "I... wish I was waking up to better news. Even if he was FBI."
"He saved Sage," Anton says, gently nudging Dad almost in reminder.
"I know," Dad nods. "Yes, for that we should be grateful. But his death-"
"Is still not something we know much about," Anton hurries to say, giving me a look behind Dad's back. I guess we're not telling Dad about the whole Victor/Alexei thing.
Dad looks between Anton and I, then gives me a final squeeze, his hands at my cheeks as he smiles at me like I'm the light of his life. "Mia figlia, grown up and even more beautiful."
I get a simple kiss on the forehead and then it's back to business mode. "I'm getting out of this bed," Dad barks.
"You're really not-"
The nurse reappears with a wheelchair, placing it next to Dad's bed without saying anything. It speaks for itself. If he wants to go anywhere, he won't be walking.
Dad heaps himself into the chair, looking up at Anton with malice. It goes unspoken that he is too weak to even push.
"Dimitri, you should lay do-"
Dad shoots Anton a single warning look and I cringe.
I don't want him up and moving around so soon either but I would be stupid to say anything.
It can't be good for his health. It can't be good for everything he's bound to find out.
Selfishly, I'd like to keep that under wraps for as long as possible.
Anton sighs and goes behind the wheelchair, pushing my father through the door as I follow. When they get there, Dad grabs the wheels, violently stopping them and making me just miss bumping into Anton's back.
I look across the landing and find Alexei and Freddie stopped mid-conversation to watch us. Especially as Dad eyes everyone down.
He looks at Anton's jacket, Freddie's, and then to Alexei where he is without his jacket, and then to mine, where I am clearly wearing it.
He purses his lips in disapproval.
Fuck.
Well, this happened quick.
Memories flood back at me now. Memories that were clouded by guilt at what I did to Dad and the hope that I would get to undo it.
I remember now why I did so much to try and win approval.
Why I did so many stupid, outrageous and over the top things to win my own freedom.
This is why. Dad is strong, confident and powerful.
Always sure, sniffing out information and making connections like a blood hound.
How the hell did Nicholas hide his FBI status from him for so long?
"Freddie, come with me," Dad says. A command that Freddie is quick to follow, nervously scurrying along behind as we follow Anton pushing Dad into his office and closing the door.
It's awkward as Anton pushes Dad into position behind the desk, both in the way he struggles with his hands and in the way he eyes where all of Anton's things are laid out. I hide myself in the back of the room, sitting on the couches by the bar as Anton and Freddie sit down in front of Dad.
"Alright, Anton," Dad says, even as his voice breaks on a cough. "You better have a good explanation for why there are Rushkoffs in our home and why on earth that was a good idea."
Anton rubs his hand against his forehead. "Dim, we needed them. I've told you Chet has resurfaced."
Dad's face doesn't waver and his words are careful and measured. "For the last ten years, Chet has never been more than a nuisance who refuses to come out of hiding."
"That's not the case anymore," Anton says, frustration breaking through his tone.
"It's true, Dim," Freddie says, casually shrugging his shoulders. "He has power now."
"He's just as cunning as he used to be. Just as smart. But now he's got people behind him," Anton adds.
"An army," Freddie nods.
"He's powerful enough to need to work with the Rushkoffs to take him down," Anton explains.
If anything, Dad is less impressed than he was when they started talking. They've essentially just told him that not only is Chet far more powerful than Dad ever saw him, but it's gone so far that we can no longer handle it alone and need to pair up with our other enemies in order to face him.
It's certainly not how I would've broken the news. But hey, I'm not in charge.
Neither is Anton anymore, apparently.
"When I was in power, I could've crushed Chet with just my bare hands," Dad says, squeezing his hands like he can picture Chet between them, "and now after such little time, you're telling me he's somehow become unstoppable?"
"Don't," Anton says, standing to face him. "You have no idea what has been going on. What we had to do was necessary."
"It's not necessary anymore."
Anton laughs condescendingly. "Oh yes, it fucking is. We need them now more than-"
"Enough!" Dad says, slamming his hand down on the desk. "No more talk of truces with Rushkoffs-" Dad's strength seems to waver and he falters, slumping down into his chair and hyperventilating.
My heart lurches, and I gasp as I sit upright. Anton rounds the desk to help while Freddie sits up in concern too. Dad looks weaker now as he lets Anton brace his shoulders and help him upright. Unsure and vulnerable eyes stare up at Anton as he frowns and gives him a pat on the back in thanks.
"You're weakened, Dim," Anton says, his voice so low it's almost a whisper.
Dad's eyes well up as he stares blankly off into the distance. "I know."
"You need to rest and recover. I know you don't like it, brother. But you're not in charge right now. I am. And until you're better, I am not handing the reins back over."
It feels like the whole rooms holds their breath, I certainly do, as we wait to see if Dad will accept that or not. Anton sounds like he's telling - but really, Dad doesn't need permission for anything.
Dad looks up into Anton's eyes with a frown, but Anton stays strong. With an expelled breath, Dad nods. And the rest of us breathe out the breaths we were holding, too.
He clearly does not like it, but he listens.
For now, that's something.