32. Tristan
Tristan
I’ve wanted to see Lev get knocked down a peg, but it’s so much more satisfying seeing him, Dimitri, and Boris get thrown for a loop.
This meeting wasn’t my plan. It was all Isolde’s.
I’ve known the thoughtful planner had to be spinning ideas around in her mind this whole time.
All I can do is support her, and I’m almost okay with the fact that she didn’t give me all the details, since I now get a courtside seat to the Bratva losing their shit.
Dimitri’s head swivels around with the same jumpy frustration I saw the other day at Fujimori’s. Boris is still, and so is Lev, who stares at his wife.
Elijah tilts his head in interest. He’s poured himself a glass of liquor, and he’s eating trail mix. Maxim is impassive, like always. Roma falls somewhere between the two, his curiosity making him straighten next to Ren.
Lev might be staring at his wife, but the true focus in the room is the photo in Isolde’s hand. If it were left to Dimitri, he’d jump for it.
Instead, she reaches her hand out and forces Yelena to take the photograph.
The woman is brittle thin, but her spine remains straight. She’s not wearing her normal uniform, though, her jeans and heels still probably cost thousands.
I see where Max gets his stoic stature because she doesn’t break once. Her pale face doesn’t move as she gazes down at the photo, crossing her arms over her chest. There’s a deep breath, like she acknowledges that she’s looking at a ghost, but other than that, she neither confirms nor denies.
“Yelena?” Lev asks.
“Is that one of the photos we were looking at?” Russet whispers to Isolde. “From the albums.”
Isolde nods, but her attention remains on the older woman.
“Mom?” Roma sits down in a chair beside his mother, studying the photo in her hand. “Who is that?”
Her thumb runs across the picture.
He leans forward. “You look really young. How old were you?”
“Sixteen.”
“Mom,” Roma murmurs. Worry shines on his face as he stares at his mother. “Is that. . . Is he a Spider?”
Yelena’s chest lifts with a deep breath.
Elijah, glass of vodka in hand, is bold enough to glance over his stepmother's shoulder. “Did you love him?”
Dimitri makes a noise like this is impossible. But I’m also afraid he’s short-circuiting. He’s this close to finding out all the information he’s ever wanted about the Spiders.
His brother is starkly still, though, waiting for an answer.
Yelena runs her thumb over the faded photo again. “My father was afraid I would never marry because I was too heartbroken.”
She hands Dimitri the photo. Her movements are so quick I think she’s no longer able to hold onto the memento.
The strategist takes a long time to assess it, before trying to pass it to his brother. Lev keeps his hands in his pocket, unwilling to take it.
“Why were you hanging around with a Spider when you were sixteen?” Elijah asks, popping a piece of trail mix in his mouth.
Yelena tucks a platinum blonde strand of hair behind her ear.
“How do we know this is a Spider?” Dimitri looks between Isolde and Yelena.
“The tattoo,” Isolde answers, and Dimitri squints at the photo. “When Cade and I got into it, one of them made a guest appearance.”
My hands are clasped together in front of me, but they squeeze tight for a moment.
I, personally, think Cade is too good for jail time. I know Isolde thinks it’s fair to give the girls he trafficked a sense of justice, but I’m just saying if he doesn’t make it out of his holding cell. . .
The front door opens, Adeline appearing.
“What?” she asks when her father shoots her a look and stands next to her sister. “Lennie’s here.”
Boris pours himself a vodka.
“You’re sure?” Dimitri asks Isolde, verifying the tattoo.
“I am sure,” Yelena says, crossing her legs and settling back in her chair.
Dimitri stops pacing. If there’s one way to piss off a Zimin, it always comes down to information.
“What’s his name?” Lev asks.
Yelena stares at a spot on the floor, but her voice remains even. “Peter Karamazov.”
“Karamazov?” Dimitri sounds doubtful.
“Try looking up that surname on the internet,” Yelena replies dryly.
The name is just one of many. No doubt after decades as the top assassins in the world, the Spiders have gone through a few identities.
“Why heartbroken?” Russet asks. She’s got the skill of a triggerman, but it's hidden beneath a heap of empathy and maternal outreach.
“No, no, no, no, no.” Dimitri holds up a hand, stopping her. “Explain from the very beginning.”
A giant dog pads into the living room. Elijah snaps his fingers, but the dog has many offers. He decides on Yelena, bumping her hand with his furry head.
She obliges, petting Albert. “You knew my father was well connected. It’s why you wanted to align yourself with us.”
Dimitri bends over, his hands on his knees. “We’re fucking talking about a fucking Spider!”
“That’s not any shit we knew about,” Lev agrees, his face strangely empty.
“Why would you?” his wife replies. “It was not information you needed.”
His jaw clenches.
Yelena made a match with Lev because of her family’s wealthy business connections in Russia and Europe. It was a way to foster old relations, but there’s a stark divide between the way the shadows move among the New York Bratva and the ones in the former Soviet Union.
“Did you love him?” Roma asks curiously. “This Peter.”
She blinks like she’s forgotten her kids are in the room, then nods.
“So Dad’s first love was with an exchange student, and yours was with a Spider.” He snorts. “What?” he defends at the multiple frowns he encounters. “We always knew Mom could make moves.”
I stay mum when it comes to the Zimin family drama. I scoot closer to Isolde, my arm barely touching hers. She doesn’t need me to maneuver this meeting, but I want her to know that I’m here.
“What happened?” Max asks his mother.
“After I was twenty-two, I never saw him again.” It’s fifty/fifty on whether Yelena knows what happened or if she’d prefer not to say.
“That’s fucking sad,” Ian says under his breath.
“Why is Cain Murray’s son in your house, Lev?” Boris asks.
Lev closes his eyes.
“He wants to make it as a triggerman,” Isolde replies easily before getting things back on track. “Will you help me?”
“Peter is dead.” Yelena shakes her head like that should settle the matter.
Dimitri bends down in front of Yelena. I’ve never taken this man to get on his knees, but his tone is entreating. “Something big is coming this way, isn’t it? You’re the only one who can give us a leg up on anything.”
“I do not know their plans.”
Dimitri stands and goes back to pacing. “How many Spiders are we even talking about? How many do you think are actually out there?”
Yelena stares at Isolde and doesn’t bother to reply.
“They’re going to come after me,” Isolde says. “Can you help me?”
She remains impassive.
“I don’t suppose you know of a tactical advantage we could use against them?” I ask.
“I’m sorry.”
Ren crosses her arms, but her voice is friendly as she speaks to her future mother-in-law. “Yelena, dare I say it, but you do know of some sort of tactical advantage, don’t you? You’re just not saying.”
Yelena is unmoving. Unyielding.
“Yelena, they’re coming either way,” Lev murmurs, his hand touching her shoulder.
Her eyes find Isolde’s. “I am not unsympathetic to your cause. But what you ask of me puts my children at great risk. A risk I am unwilling to take.”
Ren clears her throat. Roma looks over. His girlfriend is making a face at him.
He gets it a second later. “It’s. . . It’s okay, Mom.”
Lennie knowingly glances at her husband, the group still not knowing about their elopement. Elijah has been prowling around the room like a cat, a Cheshire grin on his face as he listens and watches.
“I’d quite like to be put at risk too,” he says. It’s unsurprising that he’d get a hard on at the thought of the Spiders threatening him.
That only leaves one son left.
Max frowns at Russet. “We’ve got a kid.”
Russet makes a face at him, the marital spat playing out silently.
Lev bends down, whispering indistinct Russian words to his wife. She remains impassive, her expression dropping into a tired expression when most of the room isn’t focused on her. I’ve got to give it to the woman. She’s even better at wheeling and dealing than her husband is.
“Fine!” Max rolls his eyes, Russet tossing her hair over her shoulder. “Yes, go ahead and help, Mom.”
Lev stares at his wife while she stares at her shoes, but she eventually reaches a conclusion. “I can make a phone call. But it will take some time.”
Yelena goes into a large study beside the living room. It’s full of large wooden furniture that’s meant to exude power and wealth.
She’s tiny, sitting behind the desk, and picking up the phone.
Roma watches her, his face squinting in confusion. “I think she’s talking to a. . .”
Elijah smirks, amused. “A cab driver.”
It’s like that all afternoon. One giant, international game of telephone.
She speaks to a man who runs a gas station in the Serbian countryside.
Then she calls a family home in Belarus.
At one point we all freeze when the phone rings with an incoming call.
It turns out to be a man from a butcher shop, but it led to a new phone number.
Dimitri walks around all day, tugging at his hair. There’s the occasional whisper between the three high powered Russian men. Sometimes they give an order to one of their foot soldiers who keep popping in. A reminder that they’re still expecting shit to hit the fan.
“You okay?” I ask Isolde quietly, who nods.
It’s now hour eight of hanging out in the Zimin living room, like one weird, fucked up sleepover.
But no one is willing to leave. Mainly because I think everyone is curious.
Yelena, despite the shadows under her eyes, never takes a break.
I catch Max frowning at one point when his mother laughs as she talks to the owner of a brothel.
“It’s fucking crazy, isn’t it?” Ren murmurs.