Chapter 30
Chapter
Thirty
Alexei
Four days later and I'm still not sure we did the right thing. A week ago, things were much simpler. One: I had a truce with the DeMarcos to take down Chet. Two: I had a promise to kill Sage DeMarco.
Today. Well. I'm not sure if I still have a truce. I don't know if I can kill her.
Though in fact, I do know.
"They will come in this Thursday," one of my men tells me. My eyes dart back to him from where I sit back in my chair in the library, worrying my lip with my finger.
"Good, we'll want at least ten men there," I reply, remaining casual.
The man nods. "Will we receive support from the DeMarcos?"
I'm honestly not sure, but I don't let it show on my face. Instead I go ahead with what I would've done if I was sure that we did have support from our rivals. "You can contact Fallon directly to coordinate." Just enough detail to be vague.
The man stands, giving me a terse nod as he leaves, taking the other six of his underlings with him.
"Better," Isla says, an elated smile on her face as she heaps herself into the chair that the man just left.
I roll my eyes at her and flick my fingers, eager to be downing a shot of vodka, but also noting I've been doing that far too much lately and I'll need a much clearer head with everything that's going on.
Chet. Sage. Dimitri.
Which one is truly the distraction?
"I'm glad you're getting more involved with the men," Isla says.
"Enough patronizing," I warn her.
"It's not," she pleads, showing her hands in surrender. "Ivan is an important player."
I frown and curl my lip. "Who the fuck is Ivan?"
Isla's lips press into a thin line, her hand reaching towards her mouth to cover the grimace before she quickly schools her features again. "The one who just walked out of here," she says, her tone hiding her condescension as well as her face does, "who you literally just spent an hour talking to."
I smirk and raise my eyebrow.
I never made it a point to get to know any of the men. I wasn't meant to be in this position so it didn't seem to make sense for me to make any connections. I had the connections I needed. So I thought. Victor. Isla. That was enough.
"Forgetting Ivan's name aside," Isla says, batting her hand as she lays fully down onto the lounge. "I'm still proud of you. Making more of a presence. You're a good leader. The men like you."
"I don't care if they like me," I remind her, getting impatient and deciding the shot of vodka is definitely a requirement. I stand and pace over to the bar, pouring one shot and throwing it back.
"You're worried about the DeMarcos," Isla says, reading my mind.
I give her a dry look. "Hearing nothing from them in over a week? Doesn't spell good things for the truce, does it?"
"Hearing nothing might be the best we can hope for."
"Well I haven't tried to kill Dimitri. Or announce that he's alive. So. They should appreciate that."
Isla smirks because she knows I'm only half-joking. "Dimitri hasn't tried to kill you either. Yet. Also a good sign."
She's probably right, but the small smile that brings to my mouth disappears quickly as I stare out the windows onto the property. Caring if they like me aside, the men are still my responsibility and they look on edge. I worry at my lip as I watch them. Some carefree. Others not.
"Chet knew," I say. "That Dimitri was alive."
Isla nods. "Yes I figured that. It explains a lot."
We sit comfortably in silence for a moment. I'd always thought I knew why my father evicted Chet from our lives. It was obvious, he said so himself. Chet brutalized an innocent nine-year-old girl.
Now I'm older. Not particularly wiser, but with better life experience, I have to wonder why. It's clear now that Chet has always been obsessed with Sage. But why? Why so much so that he would kidnap her from her father, and cut pieces of her skin off to torture her?
I can feel the answer locked somewhere away inside a memory in my mind.
My heart sinks, overwhelmed by sadness, because I can't just ask.
I could have asked before. Victor probably knew.
No, Victor definitely knew. He was older.
He would have remembered better than I do.
And more than that, I can only imagine it was one of the many things he was keeping from me before his death.
"Alexei?"
I lift my head to see Isla watching me. "I know silence is fine for a while. But at some point we need Anton's word. Both of our families are sitting ducks against Chet."
My jaw tightens. "Not Anton's word. We need Dimitri's."