Chapter 15 – MAKSIM
Fifteen
MAKSIM
When my face was forced underwater and I fought for air, time always slowed. It’s like the world went silent, leaving only the relentless drum of a pulse against my skull. I wonder if it feels the same to Konstantin. The panic, the fire in his lungs, that suffocating hopelessness.
My fist tightens in his hair, shoving his head harder into the cold water, his body bent over the edge of the tub. His thrashing is useless, weak splashes against inevitability. Every now and then, I loosen my grip, just enough to make him believe he’s getting a breath. That I’ll show him mercy.
Mercy I was never given.
Maybe it wasn’t his hand in my hair all those years ago, or his voice hissing that I deserved to die like a dog. But he was there. Watching and enjoying my suffering.
His body spasms, and a slow smile spreads across my face as I yank him out and let him hit the floor. But even as I watch him choke on blood and water, the ghosts of my past scrape their claws along the edges of my mind, reminding me that none of this will ever truly be enough.
I slap him and wrench him upright against the wall, fingers clamping around his throat.
“I want names. Addresses. Every man who worked with Pyotr.”
Konstantin sputters, choking for air. “I-I don’t have that information.”
I grin and pat his cheek like he’s a misbehaving child. “You’re a tough son of a bitch. I’ll give you that.”
He manages a bitter laugh, chest heaving. “You chase the devil long enough, Maksim…he finds you. Or you find him.”
My jaw ticks. I squeeze his face until blood beads at the corners of his mouth, and he groans. Cryptic warnings don’t scare me. They just piss me off.
“Maybe I’m the one they’re looking for. And I’ll be right here waiting.”
That’s when my phone buzzes. Valentina’s face lights the screen, and for a second, I’m torn. The urge to tear this man apart collides with something softer but far more dangerous. I shove it down and drag Konstantin back into the tub.
My gun cracks twice, shattering his kneecaps. His screams rattle the walls, so I rip a towel from the rack, wrap it around his head, and crank the shower on high. Water beats down, soaking him.
“Don’t go anywhere,” I say, twisting the knob toward the hottest setting. Drowning in scalding water wasn’t on his agenda today, but he had weeks to disappear and didn’t. I told him I’d be back.
I always keep my promises.
The phone buzzes again. This time it’s not a message, it’s her voice, spilling into the room before I even realize I’ve answered.
“Hey, Maxy.”
The bathroom door clicks shut behind me, muffling Konstantin’s whines.
“Hey,” I say, forcing my voice steady and shaking my head at the absurdity of smiling this big right now.
“I don’t know if you saw my text,” she says, “but what do you want for dinner?”
“Are you cooking?”
She starts to reply, but a hiss slips through, followed by a muttered curse. “Yeah,” she answers, trying to play it off.
“You okay?”
“I’m fine, just resting my leg.” The strain in her voice tells me otherwise. The amount of walking we did yesterday would leave anyone’s legs sore, let alone a still-healing fracture. But I’m not surprised she’s too stubborn to admit it.
“I’ll cook.” Silence lingers on the other end. “Valentina?”
Her laugh finally cracks through. “Wait—you cook?”
“Was I not clear?”
Her laughter softens, wrapping around me in a way I don’t deserve. And despite everything, the blood on my hands, the man drowning in the other room, I’m smiling again.
“Okay, Ruso,” she says, teasing. “I’ll let you impress me with your skills.”
“I promise you won’t be disappointed.”
“I can’t wait.”
The walk to her door is muscle memory now, which is convenient since my view is half-blocked by the five stuffed animals I won for her at the fair.
Let me win, I scoff inwardly. Maybe true, considering I was only fourteen, but I still remember how proud I was of myself. For the first time in…probably ever.
I shove the memory aside and press the doorbell.
Instantly, the dogs sniff under the frame, nails clicking against the floor, followed by the deadbolt turning.
When the door swings open, I nearly brace myself for the two Dobermans to bowl me over.
But when I peek between a stuffed horse and dragon, they’re locked in perfect heel position on either side of Valentina. Her command, obviously.
“Whoa, I almost forgot you went that hard to impress me,” she says with a laugh, reaching for one of the prizes, but I pull back, remembering her soreness from this morning.
“Where do you want these?”
She shakes her head, already resigned to my stubbornness matching hers. “The couch is fine for now.”
I do as I’m told and drop the pile of stuffed animals on the sofa. I barely turn before her arms wind tight around me.
I’m getting used to her affection. More than that, I crave it. The way she fits so perfectly against me, like she was made to be there.
“You smell good,” she says, inhaling quickly and deeply.
“Thank you.” My thumb brushes over her cheek, grazing the dimple, and making her lashes flutter.
“Were the ingredients for dinner delivered?” I ask, forcing my focus away from her mouth.
She wets her lips, slowly, deliberately, and nods.
I’ve never felt more conflicted. Denying myself has never been one of my virtues.
But with Valentina, it’s different. Wanting her feels like walking a tightrope over fire.
The urge to taste the curve of her neck, to bend her over the arm of the couch and take what I shouldn’t, burns hotter with every second I stand here.
A soft whine from one of the dogs breaks the moment, and I use the distraction to ease out of her arms and move into the kitchen, where some of the groceries wait on the counter.
“How’s your leg?”
“Just a little achy. But don’t worry, my dad came by last night, and I already know I messed up.”
“Derek was here? Last night?” I ask, shoving my hands under the faucet, checking my nail beds for any trace of blood I might’ve missed. I’d dropped her off late, which means Derek came by even later. Not that he needs an excuse to see his daughter, but odd timing for small talk.
She pulls down two glasses and a bottle of red, setting them on the counter. “Yeah.” Her voice drifts, eyes downcast for a moment before she cracks a smile. “Came by to see me. And to talk…about you.”
“Me?” Interesting. “Should I ask what about, or is there some father/daughter secrecy clause I should know about?”
Valentina pours the wine, sliding a glass across the counter to me. “Drink?”
I nod once, cutting the stems off a bunch of asparagus and rinsing them under the tap, waiting her out.
“He says you have a lot of enemies. That true?”
My thoughts flicker to Konstantin’s blood still swirling down my shower drain. “Sure. So does he.”
“I know. And that’s why I told him it doesn’t matter. Because we’re like two sides of the same coin. All of us. And we’re…family.”
I pause, glass midair, eyes on hers over the rim.
Family.
It’s what we’re supposed to be. How it looked when we were kids. But we both know that’s bullshit. Because she wore those shorts for me. And that oversized sweater slipping off her shoulder, no bra strap in sight…yeah, that wasn’t for family.
No. We’ll never be that.
Fourteen years and thousands of miles shattered whatever ties we once had.
“You should listen to your father.”
The words are supposed to draw a line, to keep us from going where I already am in my head. But she doesn’t flinch.
Valentina lifts her glass, lips brushing the rim, and takes a slow swallow.
“Maybe I should,” she says, setting it down with a soft clink. “But I won’t.”