Chapter 42
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
SIRE
It’s snowing, but I don’t care. Back home in Charleston, two snowflakes would shut the city down. But here in Moscow? Life goes on.
I stand by a back door of the sprawling dream home that was my childhood nightmare, but I refuse to let them invade my mind. Not when outside in the gated courtyard, snowflakes fall over an empty kids’ playground.
It wasn’t there when I was a kid.
It was built for Lev, who’s supposed to be out there, but…
“What the fuck is taking so long?”
It’s all taking too long. The weeks I spent in Ukraine. The weeks I’ve been waiting for my father to be ready for surgery. Yakov says Ruslan needs more time.
But I don’t have time.
I need to get this surgery done. I need to be home with my wife and baby. I need my nephew. I haven’t even met him yet.
“Patience,” Yakov urges. “One more meeting.”
“Fuck these meetings.” I get in his face. “I know what he’s doing. He’s grooming me if he dies, but I’m not taking over. He gets my kidney, not my life.”
At the sound of approaching footsteps over emerald marble floors, Yakov turns to greet the next guest. It’s like I’m a prince in a goddamn royal receiving line, when all I want is to see my nephew.
With my back turned to the next guest, I hold my breath. Katya is supposed to bring Lev outside to play. As a “family friend,” I’m supposed to spend the day with him, but she’s been stalling, too.
Every morning, I call Wren. Every evening, too. She’s my salvation, calling me home. Soon, Angel. Soon.
But not without my nephew.
“I always knew our godly prince would return.”
I pivot to greet the familiar, smoky voice with a Russian accent. “Tariel,” I smirk. “Can’t say it’s nice to see you again.”
From his barrel chest, he rattles a laugh. “Leave us.” He dismisses Yakov like a fly.
Tariel is my father’s most powerful Avtoritet, a brigade leader. He’s a brutal killer who was always kind to me as a child. He never had kids. Maybe that’s why.
Standing alone, he combs my adult form, nodding his approval. “You’re a soldier now, not a prince.”
“I’m not staying.”
“He will make sure you do.”
“When all he ever did was make us want to escape.”
Tariel winces.
I never understood why a ruthless butcher gave a damn about the abuse we suffered—me, Axel, my brothers, and my mom—but he did. Often, Tariel would distract my father by calling meetings to keep him away from us.
It worked.
But not enough.
“You do not want all this?” Tariel gestures to the compound, coveting every inch draped in opulence.
“I want my nephew.”
“How is Aleksi?” he asks fondly.
“He wants his son.”
“But he does not want all this, too? You were to be a priest; therefore, Aleksi was to be our next Pakhan.”
“And our father wasn’t supposed to beat the shit out of us and our mother, so plans changed. I don’t want it. Axel doesn’t want it.”
Most men in the Bratva forgo family. They’re a liability. My father, of course, believed he was exceptional. He forced his bloodline to continue while Tariel has nothing, no legacy except his role, power, and money.
“It should be yours,” I tell him.
It’s treasonous if he answers.
So I confide, “I’ll give it to you if you tell me why Ruslan wants Sheremetev. Why is he hunting in our territory for him?”
Tariel’s face falls as the thrilled shriek of a child pierces the air.
I whip around, recognition grabbing my heart at the sight outside the window. I stagger, mumbling, “Oh my God. He looks just like him.”
Black hair. Blue eyes. Cold cheeks flushed with joy. It’s exactly how Axel looked when we’d play in the snow as boys.
Guilt, grief, and joy rush my veins. I grab the doorknob to meet him finally, but Tariel grabs my arm.
“Do you vow?” he compels. “When the day comes, this will be mine, and you will not fight me for it?”
“All I want,” I point to my flesh and blood outside, “is him.”
Tariel swallows, lifting his chin. “He is not the only one.”
“What?”
He fumes, “Ruslan wants Sheremetev because Lev is not the only child taken.”
“Come on, Angel, answer.”
The signal is intermittent. No doubt because Ruslan’s soldiers are listening in, and turning it off and on to fuck with me.
But somehow, I need to tell Wren about today.
About Lev and how we made snowballs together. How I gave him a watermelon Ring Pop, and he loved it. They don’t have them here. How Lev thinks I’m his new best friend…
And I am.
I need to tell her about Tariel and the deal we made. A new part of my plan to set us free.
But more, I need to tell Wren…
I love her.
I need to know my angel’s okay. I need to know what song she sang in the shower. That’s her new thing—singing all the wrong lyrics to her belly, our baby.
“Jesus, Jesus. Come on, Angel. Pick up,” I huff, pacing my former bedroom, the sick irony isn’t lost on me.
It’s lunchtime there, nighttime here. Wren’s probably busy, helping Ms. Davis with the preschool kids.
I roll to voicemail and guardedly leave her one, knowing the ears have walls.
“Hey, Angel. Call me back. No matter the time. I met Lev, and my surgery’s tomorrow morning. And I love you and…”
A soft knock on the door startles me.
“And I need to hear your voice. No filters. All songs, butterflies, badassery, and my baby. Call me.”
The knock demands again.
But I need to say this, “I love you, Angel. Bye.”
I end the call, ripping my bedroom door open. “What?”
“Did you forget your southern manners?” Katya tries to drawl but sounds ridiculous.
“Did you forget to go to hell?”
Slyly, she grins. If she weren’t an evil succubus, with her blonde hair and bold cleavage, she’d have a chance at being pretty.
“Always full of fire, Sergei.” She licks her red lips. “I craved that about you. Not your brother. Axel was cold.”
“Yeah, well, fucking freezing pussy will do that to a man.”
“It was never cold for you.” She drags her fingertip down my grey sweater, over my abs. “It’s still warm, ready, and wet for you.”
I swat her hand away. “I’m married to the most beautiful woman with the hottest pussy; I’ll never cheat on my wife. I love her.”
She purrs, “But I am a queen, and you are my second king. You made a vow to me, too. You bred me in front of your brothers. You made me drip for you. Remember?”
“Unfortunately, I do. But thankfully, I wore a condom and pulled out, and Delphine’s sweet mouth swallowed what you never deserved. Remember?”
She purses her lips, threatening, “Does your wife know you breed men, too?”
I laugh. “She joins us.”
Her face twists, trying another angle. “If you want to see Lev, you will give me what I want. Tonight.”
I see right through her. “What you want, Katya, is the love you never got from your father, so you tried to get it from my father, the Devil. When the truth is, if you opened your heart to your son, you’d find a new and better love as a mother.”
“I am a loving mother,” she hisses.
“Then act like it.” I get in her face. “Like what my mother did for her sons. Give me Lev. I’ll get him out of here and keep him safe.”
She steps back. “Like how you kept my father safe?” Her chin trembles. “How you had him killed, and he did nothing to you.”
“Exactly,” I seethe. “Viktor did nothing while a woman and her children were beaten. Daily. Then, your father stood by and sold your body to the Devil, too. I’m sorry for your loss, Katya, but Viktor threatened Lev. To my face. He was willing to kill his grandson for power.”
A tear rolls down her cheek. “You lie.”
I step to her face again, staring her down. “Look your king in the eye and tell me if I’m lying.”
She does, and … she can’t.
We all have a choice: will your pain make you cruel or kind?
“Look me in the eye, my king,” evil fills her glare, “and tell me if you will wake up tomorrow.”
Katya chose cruelty.