Chapter Thirty-One
Adrik
Seversk, Russia
Adrik dropped his phone to the bed, heart thudding, every nerve on alert.
The house was dark, too quiet, the kind of quiet that made his instincts flare.
He slid off the bed, feet hitting the cold floor, and scanned the room for anything he could use as a weapon.
The only thing within reach was a heavy ceramic lamp. Fine. It would do.
He moved to the side of the door, breath held, muscles coiled. The knob creaked slowly and deliberately.
The door swung open.
Adrik launched himself forward, slamming the intruder to the ground. The man’s body hit the floor with a crack that echoed through the house.
“Adrik! Get the fuck off me!” his father’s voice barked up at him.
For a split second, Adrik’s breath caught. His father. Here. In his mother’s house. His pulse spiked, but he forced it down, forced himself to steady. He stared into Viktor’s piercing blue eyes—eyes he’d inherited, unfortunately—while straddling him, pinning him.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” Adrik growled.
“I see I trained you well. Now get the fuck off me.”
Adrik slid back, jaw clenched. Viktor sat up, and that’s when Adrik noticed the blood on his cheek—his ring must’ve sliced him. Great. He’d wanted to hit him for years, but not like this.
He reached down anyway, fingers closing around Viktor’s hand, hauling him up. They stood inches apart, too close, far too close. The air between them was suffocating.
He shouldn’t be this close. He shouldn’t be anywhere near me. A cold, familiar dread crawled up his spine—the kind he thought he’d buried years ago. You tried to have me killed, and now you stand here like a father visiting his sick wife.
Viktor broke the silence first. “I’m not here to hurt you, Adrik.” Then, without warning, he pulled him into a hug.
Adrik froze. His arms stayed at his sides. His chest tightened, breath shallow. Viktor smelled the same—cologne, cigarettes, and something metallic underneath. Memory. Violence. Childhood.
“I’m sorry,” Viktor murmured. “Really sorry.”
Adrik shoved him back. “Sorry for what? Fucking my entire life up? Teaching me to hate? Wanting me dead?”
“I’m sorry for putting a hit on you and Sergei.”
Adrik laughed—sharp, humorless. “Too fucking late, Viktor. Your evil has left me damaged.”
Viktor’s jaw twitched. “Why is my son just like his grandfather and less like me?”
“Because he was a man of honesty, respect, and knowledge. Not like you at all.”
“I was wrong about you and Sergei,” Viktor said. “I’m sorry.”
“I hate you. I fucking hate you. Forever.”
“I know you do. Just like your grandfather did.” Viktor sighed, shoulders sagging. “Adrik, you were my only hope for protecting our family.”
“Not your hope. Your disappointment. I don’t want it. I don’t want you.”
Viktor studied him for a moment. “Tell me something. Where are you working now?”
“I’m not.” The words tasted like failure. He hated how small they sounded. Without Viktor, he was nothing. That was the lie he’d been raised on. Why now? Why come here? What does he want?
“Come home, Adrik. I need you.”
“I can’t do that.”
“Let’s talk in the kitchen. Have a drink.”
The last thing Adrik wanted was to sit across from him like they were a normal father and son. He wanted to get away, call Hans, fly home, and crawl into the only place he felt safe. But he followed Viktor anyway.
In the kitchen, he rummaged through the cabinets until he found vodka. Adrik grabbed paper towels, wet them, and stepped closer to Viktor. The man didn’t flinch when Adrik dabbed at the blood on his cheek.
“Does it hurt?” Adrik asked.
“No.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to do that. My ring caught you.”
“That fucking ring from your grandfather?” Viktor muttered, pouring two doubles over ice.
“Yes.”
“Christ. He’s attacking me from his grave.”
They sat at the table with their drinks like civilized men. Only they weren’t. They had never been there.
“I wish my grandfather were my father instead of you,” Adrik said.
“Nice words to hear from my son. My favorite son.”
Adrik scoffed. “Why are you here?”
“Your mother almost died. That’s why. She left over you.”
“I know why she left. It was over you.”
“Tomorrow, your brother will be here. We’ll visit your mother together as a family and convince her to return with us to New York.”
Adrik’s stomach twisted. “Why is he coming?”
“Think about it. Burian is your mother’s favorite.”
“I don’t want to be near him.”
“Too bad.”
“I’m not flying back with you.”
“You don’t have a job, Adrik. You’re not one to sit in retirement at your age. No country wants to hire a Russian criminal. No one will hire you. You’re not a citizen anywhere except America.”
“I’m working on becoming a citizen.”
“Where?”
“Germany.”
“Germany?” Viktor scoffed. “Your grandfather is still separating me from you, even dead.”
Adrik leaned back, studying him. “Why do you hate him?”
Viktor stared into his glass, jaw tightening again. “Because he took my childhood.”
Adrik waited, but Viktor didn’t elaborate. He never did. Always half-truths, always secrets, and always full control.
And sitting there across from him, Adrik realized something: he wasn’t afraid of Viktor anymore. He was tired. Bone-deep tired. And he wanted out—out of this family, out of this legacy, out of this endless cycle of violence and loyalty and disappointment.
He wanted Hans. He wanted peace.
But peace and Viktor had never belonged in the same room.
“Why did you lie to me?” After his second drink, Adrik got bolder.
“Regarding what?”
“My grandfather.”
“Let me tell you about him. He was a cruel father. He forced me to work with him instead of growing up playing sports like Burian. He didn’t allow me to move without his presence. He dictated everything from early morning until I went to bed. The man hated me.”
“You did the same thing to me. How are you any different?” Adrik tried to understand, but his father left out too many details.
“I gave you everything, Adrik. I spoiled you. You got to attend college away from home. If you asked for anything, I got it for you. How is that like your grandfather?”
“He never treated me like that.”
“Listen to the facts and stop being blinded by his charm.”
“I saw firsthand how he treated me.”
“Do you know why you were his favorite?”
“No.”
“He was gay. That’s why he thought I couldn’t raise you. Now, do you understand?”
Adrik was stunned.
“That’s why I thought. And because he knew you were gay, he wanted you with him.”
“I’m not gay. I’m bisexual.”
“Same thing.”
“No, it’s not. Take a class and learn the difference.”
“Where’s your wife then?”
“No wife. I have a boyfriend.”
“Oh, in Germany?”
“That’s right.”
“Then move him to New York with you too. At this point, I don’t care who you fuck or who fucks you. Just want my son in New York.”
“I don’t think that will work.” Adrik didn’t believe him and would never subject Hans to his father.
“Think about it. I promise never to hurt anyone you love. This does not mean I approve of two men, but I realize now you’ll shut me out if I order you to do certain things you’re against.”
“How can I trust you?”
“My father, your grandfather, had the same conversation with me.”
“And what did you say?”
Just like that, his father changed the subject when he didn’t want to answer a question. “I want to meet your boyfriend.”
Those words snapped Adrik back into reality. “Not now. Maybe one day.”
His father nodded, then stood up and hugged him. “I love you, Adrik.”