Chapter Eighteen
Mikhail
I still can’t breathe right. My chest is tight, and I have to force each inhale, like the air around me has turned into something thick and impossible to pull into my lungs.
My eyes are glued to Otets’.
I’m trying to read him, to understand how the man who raised me could have carried these secrets for so long.
A sister.
He says we have a little sister, living in the same city we took Chiara from.
But that isn’t what’s twisting my insides right now. That isn’t what’s making it so hard to stand here and keep my hands by my sides.
It’s what he said about her; my mother.
His office feels smaller somehow, the weight of every revealed secret pressing down on me, as my mind keeps circling back to that one thing.
She tried to kill me.
My mother. My own flesh and blood.
Why can’t I remember anything?!
I’ve tried—so fucking hard—but I can’t seem to remember anything.
I’m half tempted to slam my head against the wall to see if that triggers any memories of being held under the water, and forced to stop breathing.
And as I hear him speak, my heart rate only slows down even further.
Why didn’t Nikolai tell me anything?!
I grip the edge of the chair in front of me, my fingers curling so tightly around it that I feel it creak under the pressure.
My heartbeat pounds in my chest, driving out the faint sounds of conversation between my brother and my father. Nikolai is stone-faced as usual, his gaze hard as it moves between Otets and myself, but I can’t focus on him.
I can’t focus on anybody except for the twisted version of my mother that now haunts my memories.
She wasn’t overly loving to us as children, but she was still there.
She was present.
I remember her soft voice as she spoke to us both, and the way her hands used to smooth over our hair when we were only young boys.
She wasn’t cruel to us growing up.
Was it all fake?
Did she hate me that much?
Squeezing my eyes shut for a moment, I try to push it all away, but it doesn’t work.
The memories don’t fade.
Instead, they twist and tangle in my mind, darker now, sharper around the edges.
I hear her laugh, but it feels sinister now.
I remember her smile, but it’s warped.
A hand brushes my arm, and my eyes shoot open.
Nikolai.
His face is close to mine, his expression hard, but also laced with something unfamiliar. Concern, perhaps. My brother doesn’t say anything, he just stares at me, his head tilting slightly as though he’s trying to assess whether I’ll completely break down right here and now, with Otets present.
I won’t.
But now, I doubt whether it’s because of the fact that I’m stronger than this, or whether I’ve become too numb to feel anything any more.
“She’s alive.” Nikolai says, his voice low enough so only I can hear it. “Focus on that, Mikhail, the girl. The sister. She’s what matters right now.”
I nod once, but my stomach churns.
A sister.
A little sister out there who doesn’t even know who we are, or what we are.
I wonder what she’s like.
I wonder what she looks like.
Does she even know that she’s part Russian, and part Italian too?
I doubt it.
After everything that has happened…there’s no way that she knows.
Our father’s voice cuts through my thoughts, sharp and commanding.
“We’ll handle this, Mikhail. My daughter belongs with us, and we will bring her back.”
I glance over at him, feeling my chest tightening all over again.
It’s been days now since he’s revealed these buried secrets, but the weight of everything only presses harder on me, and I find myself speaking without thinking.
“You mean like how Chiara belongs with us?”
The room goes silent.
He looks at me, his expression hardening at once.
This is the most I’ve spoken to him in the three days that I’ve been back, but I don’t care. He shouldn’t have held onto these secrets for so long, not when he expects Nikolai and I to take over as Pakhans one day.
“Careful, Mikhail.”
He tells me, his tone cold.
I don’t back down. Not this time.
“Chiara is ours to keep.” I say, my voice firm. “And if you think that girl out there—our sister—is going to forgive you for all of this, you’re wrong. Who knows what she’s been suffering under the hand of her uncle, the very same man who murdered her mother?”
Our father simply stares at me, his jaw clenching.
“Mikhail!”
Nikolai says sharply, his hand squeezing my shoulder, but I shrug him off.
Our father’s eyes narrow in my direction, and for a moment, I think he’ll lose his temper. I think he’ll finally give me a chance to react, and do something with all this anger that’s been building up inside me. But he doesn’t. Instead, he sighs, running a hand through his hair.
“You think I don’t know what I’ve lost?” He says, his voice quieter now, almost bitter too. “I have lost one child already, Mikhail. I will not lose another. Hate me all you want, but you are still my son, and you are still breathing. I will never take that for granted ever again.”
As the weight of his words settle over me, I see something crack in his expression.
Just for a second, he looks tired.
Old.
Human.
But it doesn't change what’s twisting up inside me.
It doesn’t erase this image I have of my mother drugging me, dragging my body into the bathtub, and holding my head under the water as she waits for me to stop breathing.
I just don’t understand why I don’t remember.
And it doesn’t make me feel any better thinking about the sister I didn’t know I had, probably suffering for the actions of my mother.
I glance over at Nikolai again, but his face is unreadable.
After what feels like an eternity, my brother shakes his head, sighing heavily.
“Let’s go and check on Chiara.”
I nod, and together, the three of us move to the hallway to enter the room where Chiara has been resting in for the last three days.
She’s exhausted—though well as checked by the doctor—and she wakes up for only a few moments of the day.
All these secrets that have been revealed are having just as much of a toll on her as it is on us.
As we continue walking, we find ourselves face-to-face with Dario instead.
“Is she well today?”
I ask him, a taunt perhaps as I try to create small talk, though I already know the answer.
Our doctor is on our payroll, so he reports to us first, of course.
Before anything else can be said, Dario takes a step forward, his chest heaving with pure anger.
His face is twisted, his eyes wide and wild as they dart between Nikolai and me.
I don’t miss the way his fists are clenched so tightly that his knuckles have turned white, and the way his shoulders shake like he’s barely able to keep himself together.
“What the hell is wrong with you two?!” He shouts, his voice cracking under the weight of his fury. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done? And what you’ve put my sister through?!”
Nikolai and I instinctively shift, moving so that we’re standing side by side.
It’s something we’ve done ever since we were only boys; present in a united front, always.
It doesn't matter how much I’m still reeling from everything Otets has revealed; the second that we’re challenged, we move in sync.
Dario glares at me first, his eyes blazing, and then at Nikolai, his lips curling.
“Do you guys really think it’s okay to take her like this? To keep her locked up here like she’s some kind of prisoner?!”
His voice rises with every word, trembling with emotion.
“Chiara is not a prisoner.”
Nikolai says coolly.
Dario barks out a humourless laugh, his hands flexing at his sides like he’s ready to swing any second now.
“My sister is not a prisoner? Is that what you’re both telling yourselves? You’re just as crazy as you look if you think that’s true!”
I spot the way Nikolai’s jaw tightens, but he manages to remain calm, though the anger in him clearly rises, matching my own.
“Chiara is my little sister!” Dario spits. “She’s not yours, and she’s definitely not a part of this fucked up world. She doesn’t belong here!”
I shake my head, releasing a humourless laugh.
He’s delirious if he thinks that she doesn’t belong here with us.
“Chiara is safe with us.” I say. “She’s safer here than she ever was before.”
Dario steps closer, getting right in my face now.
I can feel the heat of his anger radiating off of him, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he glares at me. We’re both similar heights, and his frame is leaner too, but his fury makes him feel bigger somehow, like he’s ready to explode at any second.
“Safe?” He growls. “You think this is safe, Mikhail? You think what you’ve both done has kept her safe?!”
I take a slow breath, keeping my expression calm even though his words grate against my nerves.
Beside me, Nikolai shifts, his body language sharp and alert, ready to step in if things escalate.
His voice cracks, and I notice the sheen in his eyes. He’s angry, yes, but there’s something deeper there too.
Fear.
Pain.
“Chiara has been through enough already.” He says in a voice quieter now.
“Our mother was murdered when she was just a child, and she’s been without her ever since.
She was pulled away from the life she once knew, and was forced to build a new life, in a completely new country.
And when my sister had finally settled into a place of her own, you both—”
He cuts himself off, shaking his head as if he can’t even find the right words to say.
I glance over at Nikolai, catching the faint flicker of something in his expression.