Chapter 31
Vanya
I snap awake, my hand twisting under the mattress to grab my gun.
The quiet tick of the heater tugs me back to reality right as my fingers brush the Makarov’s grip. No warmth of any kind matches the dream I just woke up from.
A few seconds after opening my eyes, I remember we crashed in Paige’s apartment. Her place was closer than the safe house, and I convinced her that Gio wouldn’t expect us to come back here.
She agreed with my assessment.
Her place provides a welcome change from the hellscape I just left.
Before last night, I hadn’t suffered from that nightmare for a while.
The events are always more or less the same.
The sadistic, grinning headmaster hauls Alina down a long hallway.
My sister calls out for me, reminding me of my promise to keep her safe.
I can’t go after her, though, because an unseen force roots me in place.
I’m forced to watch as Alina gets closer to the shadowy figures lurking at the end of the hall, light glinting off their hidden weapons.
The dream clings to me like cobwebs.
Throwing my legs over the side of the bed, I sit up.
Paige sleeps on the bed behind me. Long blond hair covers her pillow and falls off her side of the bed.
My movement pulled the blankets tighter around her, showcasing the delightful curves of her body.
She sighs in her sleep, her arm sliding out from under the covers. Her fingers stretch and curl, as if seeking mine. I want to reach for them, trap that hand to my chest, and lie back down with her. Instead, I unwrap the blanket from my waist and rise.
Outside, streetlights flicker off, then back on. It’s not yet sunrise, but close enough to fool the sensors.
The wavering illumination catches on the thick lashes resting on Paige’s soft cheek. Her messy hair spreads across the pillow, even more golden in the amber light.
Beautiful.
The word doesn’t do her justice. It’s too small. Too simple.
Beauty with a bite.
An odd sensation unfurls in my chest. My heart seizes and loosens all at once.
She chose me.
Even after hearing about the orphanage. About Alina. About the empty place where normal people keep their souls. She looked at all that and didn’t flee or reject me when she had every chance to do so.
No. She claimed me.
There’s no other way to describe what happened when she climbed on top of me on the hood of my car and took what she wanted. The woman does have a real penchant for semi-public sex.
For almost a week, we’ve been “playing house,” so to speak.
Like no mission exists. No Bratva. No enemy hunting us.
In the process, I started to feel again. To dare to fantasize of more than rambunctious nights and willing bodies.
I let myself believe that my desires mattered. Started to act like I could have everything I secretly hoped for but never allowed myself to consider.
How could I be so stupid?
The familiar cold creeps in. That same ice that filled my chest the night I learned Alina was dead. Until that point, I’d retained hope. Especially when my intelligence, wit, and charm won over Peter Kozlov during his visit. He took me as his ward, brought me to America, and started training me.
I devoted everything I had into making myself indispensable to the Kozlov Bratva.
Over time, I convinced myself that if I did my job well enough, I could win Alina’s freedom and give her a better life here in America with me.
After spending years honing my charm, my silver tongue, and my web of allies, I was too late.
Paige shifts in her sleep. Her hand searches the sheet and finds the empty space where I should be. A small crease forms between her eyebrows.
Even in slumber, she reached for me.
And that’s the problem.
She can’t rely on me. I can’t be with her all the time. I can’t keep her safe or shield her from the harsh realities of my life.
That’s how you lose focus. How people get killed.
I can’t leave the Bratva either. Even if I wanted to, I don’t know any other kind of life.
Paige is smart, capable, and stronger than anyone gives her credit for. She’s also reckless, especially when she feels the rush from acting out her childhood fantasies.
She liked her taste of danger so much that she’s willing to do anything to return to that peak.
I’ve seen the same story play out too many times with young Bratva recruits who chase the adrenaline high…until the thrill turns to terror that ends with death. Or they screw up and get exiled like Sasha, with a kill order on their head.
I see the path spreading before her. Even without her perfect memory, I know exactly how this story finishes.
She’ll want to come with me on jobs. I can picture us sitting together on the couch, planning out my next mission.
Because, of course, she’ll want to be involved.
And because I’m weak where she’s concerned, I’ll let her.
Her enthusiasm will win me over, the way my charm works on everyone else.
She’ll be gifted too. With that photographic memory. That quick mind. She’ll be brilliant.
We’ll get closer. Fall in love. Create a whole new life together. Share daily rituals, date nights, and enmesh our lives until we’re two halves of the same whole. Form a new family.
Until the day I’m not good enough, or she slips up.
Or someone betrays us.
One day, I’ll miscalculate or read a situation wrong. I’ll lower my guard for half a second because I’m thinking about her instead of the job.
That’s all it’ll take.
One mistake.
And I won’t have the luxury of just tucking and running. I’ll have to figure out how to protect Paige and extract her from whatever mission I’m working.
If I fail, I might see her get tortured or killed.
Even if the worst-case scenario doesn’t happen, she’ll see the real me—the failure—and hate me for dragging her into this life. This time, I won’t be able to scoop out the pain. Won’t be able to hollow myself out and move forward.
I’m not that resilient kid anymore.
My tough outer shell has thinned, and Paige managed to root inside where nothing should be able to grow. Losing her would break the flimsy veneer I have left.
As badly as it hurt to lose Alina, I never saw her die. If I watched Paige die or walk away from me…
I can’t tolerate that risk.
The facts are simple.
If I stay, she dies or leaves. If I deal with this situation myself, she lives. Yes, Gio remains a threat, but I’ll make sure she stays out of his clutches. Somehow.
My heart aches, like someone’s yanking on the veins and arteries and ripping the organ straight from my chest. It’s worse than anything the headmaster ever did to me. Worse than any experience I’ve survived since joining the Kozlovs.
The only safe route forward is to leave her before things get more complicated.
My cowardice nearly chokes me, but I push ahead.
I slip out of the room, picking up my suit as I go. Years of slinking out of dark bedrooms before morning help me exit without disturbing Paige.
I find my jacket, pat all the pockets to locate my wallet, and fish out all my cash. Only a few thousand dollars. Not much, but it’s what I can manage. This will at least cover the paycheck she missed while she was on the run with me.
And if she needs to run again? To flee the city or state to build a new life under a new name somewhere the Falcone Mafia can’t find her? Then I can wire her more money.
No need for me to come back in person. No reason to risk her life if someone follows me. This will ensure she’s taken care of, that she can start fresh if circumstances dictate.
If I perform my job, none of this will be necessary.
She can return to her old life or explore a new road. I could even send her enough money to finish her master’s degree. The choice will be up to her, though, because I won’t be walking that path with her. I can’t place a target on her back.
I glance around for and find a notepad on the coffee table, next to a blue pen.
What do I say? What will keep her from following me?
The words should come easy. I’ve said worse. Done worse.
As I scribble my message, my stomach clenches, threatening to evict the little bit of food remaining from our quick dinner last night.
Ignoring the agony attempting to rip my heart in two, I compose the note that will end us.
You were wrong. I’m not who you think I am. This was a fun distraction, but now I’ve got to go take care of business. Use the cash to get out of town for a few days and let me know if you need more.
This will be better if she hates me. She’ll have an easier time moving on and getting back to her life that way.
As the sun starts to rise, I dress and check my appearance in the small mirror by her door.
My suit hangs perfectly on my body, not a single wrinkle showing despite the article of clothing being shoved into the back seat last night. My hair appears a bit mussed, but I can’t do much without my gel.
Face wan and thin. Stubble on my chin. Eyes emptier than they’ve looked in a long time.
I close them. I don’t need to see the blizzard raging through them.
On silent feet, I step into her bedroom one last time. I head to her nightstand, where I set down the money along with the note.
No doubt the gesture will add to the cruelty of my brief farewell message.
I slip the Makarov out from under the mattress and tuck it into the holster at my side, where my jacket is tailored to hide it. Then I stop.
I should go. Walk out the door and never think of this place again.
I’m weak, though, because I spin back to stare at Paige.
She remains asleep, still reaching for me across empty sheets. She looks peaceful. Safe.
That’s all that matters.
Paige deserves better than me, so why do I feel like I’m cutting out my heart?
I force my feet into action.
The front door clicks shut behind me.
No going back now.
The late October air slaps me in the face, jarring me from my despair. Cold seeps through my jacket and into my bones. Good. Better than the warmth I’ve grown accustomed to. Better than the soft trap of caring.
Paige will be all right. She’ll wake up, find the money and the note, and hate me. She might be sad, but then she’ll move on. One day, she’ll find someone else. Someone who doesn’t operate in the shadows.
She deserves that.
Even if the thought makes me want to swallow the barrel of my gun.