Chapter 14 Maksim
Maksim
I'm heading back to my room after another sleepless night when I literally walk into her.
Kira stumbles back, and I catch her arm on reflex. We both freeze.
She's wearing pajamas with a robe hastily thrown over them. Her hair is loose, no makeup, and she looks younger like this. Like the girl I fell in love with.
I drop her arm like it burned me.
"What the hell are you doing here?" I demand, glancing down the hallway to make sure we're alone.
"Being held prisoner, obviously." Her voice drips sarcasm. "Did you already forget?”
"Why aren't you in the guest quarters? They're on the other side of the estate."
“Newsflash asshole, I don’t really have much of a say about where I’m put,” she snaps.
This is my wing. Where I'm staying. My room that has always been my room. Roman’s master bedroom, my father’s old room, is down another hallway in this wing.
Where all the guest rooms definitely are not.
He specifically said she’d be in the guest quarters.
"This doesn't make sense," I say, more to myself than her. "This is—"
"A message?" Kira finishes. "A power play? I don't know, Maksim. You tell me. You're the one allied with him."
There's an edge to her voice that makes me look closer.
She's scared. Trying to hide it, but it's there in the tension of her shoulders, the way her fingers grip her robe. She’s holding on to that attitude with a white-knuckle grip. It’s her shield.
I recognize the tactic. I did the same during my captivity.
Attack first. Put your captors on the defensive.
“I’ve been out,” I tell her.
And just like that, I realize her tactic worked. I’m explaining myself.
"What room did he put you in?" I ask.
She gestures at the door directly beside mine. “Right there.”
“That’s my room,” I hiss, pointing to the door just ten feet down the hall.
She smirks. "Isn't that cozy? I guess he wants to keep me close to my captors."
Next to mine. Not across the hall. Not down the corridor. Directly adjacent, with just a wall between us.
Roman did this deliberately. But why?
“You knew,” I say.
“Knew what?”
“Where my room is. Don’t tell me you forgot.”
She sighs. “Maksim, I didn’t manipulate this. Do you honestly think I would beg to sleep next door to the man that wants to kill me?”
“I never said I wanted to kill you.”
“I’m sorry…destroy me. Same difference.”
I’m not going to deny it.
I nod and step around her to go to my door. I need to get away from her. She looks too good. Too…tempting.
And that’s exactly what Roman wants. I know what he’s doing. I will not play his fucked-up games. If he thinks I’m going to get into some sharing thing, it’s never going to happen.
I don’t share.
Once he has her, she’s his.
Just as I’m about to step inside, I feel her.
I close my eyes and fight back the urge to grab her. She’s moved closer. Her breath brushes over the back of my arm.
"Can I talk to you?" Her voice is barely above a whisper. The snark is gone replaced with desperation. "Please. Just five minutes."
I should say no. Should go to my room and lock the door and pretend I never saw her.
I turn to look at her over my shoulder, ready to say just that, but the fear in her eyes stops me.
"Fine. Five minutes." I glance down the hallway again. "But not out here."
"Your room or mine?" The question has an edge of hysteria.
"Neither." I head for a small sitting room at the end of the hall—one of many scattered throughout the estate. "There."
I’m not going to let myself be alone with her. I don’t have the self-control not to take advantage of a bed.
She follows me without making a sound. I close the door behind us. The room is dark except for moonlight through the windows. Safer this way. Less chance of being seen.
"Talk," I say. "Quickly."
"I found something. In my father's financial records.
" She's speaking fast, urgent. "Payments from six years ago.
Large amounts, coming from accounts I couldn't trace.
And notes in his handwriting about meetings.
I took pictures of the papers but just now got the chance to start reading through them.
I shrug. “Yes and? You already told me this. This isn’t breaking news.”
"My father was broke, Maksim. Had driven the family into the ground with gambling and terrible investments. These payments started right before your kidnapping and continued for months after."
"You mentioned this at dinner. I told you—"
"That I was trying to shift blame. I know." Her hands clench into fists. "But I'm telling you the truth. My father took money from someone around the exact time you disappeared. That's not a coincidence."
It's not. But it also doesn't prove what she thinks it proves.
“Why would someone pay your father to kidnap me?”
She groans. “I don’t know. But it just feels like strange timing.”
“Someone paid your father for you to set me up?” I question.
She sighs. “I didn’t set you up.”
“Why did you tell me to be careful that night?”
She frowns. “What?”
I step closer to her. "That night. When Dmitri texted me about the meeting. You told me to be careful. Why?"
She blinks at me, confusion crossing her face. "I always told you to be careful when you had meetings. Especially late-night ones. It was dangerous—"
"But that night specifically. You said it with urgency. Like you knew something."
"I didn't know anything." Her voice rises slightly. "I just... I had a bad feeling. You were leaving in the middle of the night for an emergency meeting that made no sense. Of course I told you to be careful."
I search her face, looking for deception. But all I see is frustration and confusion.
"You didn't know about the meeting beforehand?" I press.
"How could I? Dmitri texted you while you were in my bed. I saw you check your phone, saw your expression change. That's when I knew something was wrong."
The timeline fits.
"You looked worried," I say.
"Because it felt wrong!" She throws her hands up. "A last-minute meeting in the middle of the night. Of course, it felt wrong! But you said you had to go, that Dmitri wouldn't call unless it was important."
“What's your endgame here?" I ask. “Are you throwing your father under the bus or someone else?”
"My endgame?" She laughs, sharp and bitter. "I don't have an endgame! I'm trying to survive! I'm trying to save my sister! I'm trying to make you see that we're both being manipulated!"
"Or you're hoping get me on your side. Maybe convince me to marry you instead of letting Roman have you." The words come out harsh. "Is that it? Trade one for another?"
Her eyes flash with rage. "I wouldn't marry you if my life depended on it."
"Ironic," I laugh without humor. "Because your life does depend on it.”
She shoves at my chest. “I tried. I’m giving you information. I guess when you’re killed for real this time, I’ll know I tried.”
"Have you told Roman?" I ask abruptly. "About us. The party. The creek."
Her face goes pale. "Are you insane? No!"
"Why not?"
"Because I don't have a death wish!" She's shouting now, past caring about volume. "You think Roman would let me live if he knew I slept with you? He'd kill me. Or worse—he'd kill Anya. Or you. Or all of us."
“Why would he kill me?”
She slaps a hand to her forehead. “You insufferable asshole. You are competition. You are the rightful heir to his throne. A throne he all but stole. And me. Pull your head out of your ass and think about it, Maksim.”
I’m not going to pretend I haven’t considered Roman’s role in my disappearance. He did take my seat, but my father was still alive. He was healthy. Roman couldn’t have known he would die and there would be no one to lead the bratva.
And Roman is like family to me. Or he was. I’m not so blind I can’t see the games he’s playing now, but that’s just a man marking his territory. He wants to ensure I know he’s king. Daring me to challenge him.
"Help me escape," she says desperately. "Please.”
"Escape,” I scoff. “And go where? Roman's people are everywhere. You wouldn't make it past the gates."
"Then help me get past the gates!" She's begging now, pride abandoned. "You have access. Clearance. You could—"
"Could commit treason against my pakhan?" I step back.
"Prove your humanity by saving an innocent girl!" She follows me. "Maksim, please. Not for me. For Anya. She doesn't deserve what's coming."
"I need to think," I say finally.
"There's no time to think! The wedding is in nine days!"
"Then you have nine days." I head for the door. "Use them wisely."
"Maksim—"
"Go to bed, Kira." I don't look back. "And stay away from me."
I leave her there and head straight out of the estate. I need answers. Real ones.
And I know exactly where to start.
Kira's father lives in a house he can't afford, maintained by money his daughter provides. It's after midnight when I arrive, but I don't care.
I pound on the door until he answers, looking disheveled and terrified.
"Maksim. This is... unexpected."
"We need to talk." I push past him into the house. "Now."
He closes the door. "About what?"
"About six years ago. About your debts. About the payments you took." I turn to face him. "Who paid you and why?”
His face goes from white to gray. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"Yes, you do." I step closer.
"Nothing!" But sweat beads on his forehead. "Those were business investments. I was, I, we, it was bad investments.”
"Investments." I crowd him against the wall. "That started right before I was kidnapped and continued for months after? Coincidence?"
"That was a difficult time." He's practically whimpering. “I was grasping at anything. I may have made up some investment opportunities to cover other debts.”
I grab him by the collar and slam him harder against the wall. “I was going to marry your daughter. You know you would have been okay. I would have taken care of the family.”
"It would have positioned her!" He's practically squealing now. "Positioned her to one day be the Bratva queen when you took over from your father! Your father was young. Healthy. It would have taken years for you to inherit.”
And then it clicks.
“You needed money then, not in some distant future,” I say.
His eyes dart away. Guilty.
"Did you have something to do with my imprisonment?" I ask directly, my voice deadly calm. "Did you sell me out?"
"No!" The denial comes fast. Too fast. "I swear, I didn't—I wouldn't—"
"Then who did?" I tighten my grip on his collar. "Someone paid you. Who?"
“It was for an investment. A business.”
“What business?”
He blinks. “Start up. Importing.”
"You're lying."
"I'm not!" He’s lying and afraid. Two things I know how to identify. "Look closer to home, Maksim. There are other people who benefited from your death. People much closer than me."
The implication makes my blood run cold. "Who?"
"Think about it. Who took over after you disappeared? Who consolidated power? Who had the most to gain?"
"What did Kira know?" I demand. "Was she part of it?"
"Nothing!" He shakes his head violently. "She knew nothing. My daughter loved you. Was destroyed when you died."
I release him. He slides down the wall like a puppet with cut strings.
"She didn't know," he repeats, softer now. "Whatever happened, whatever I did or didn't do, Kira was innocent. She's always been innocent."
I stand there, staring at this broken man, and feel my certainty crumbling completely.
If Kira's father is saying she didn't know, then maybe she really didn't.
Maybe I've been destroying an innocent woman while the real enemy watches and smiles.
Roman.
The pieces start falling into place. Roman identifying my body. Roman investigating my disappearance. Roman taking over the Bratva. Roman arranging to marry Kira.
Roman controlling everything.
But Roman was never meant to inherit. It was a series of circumstances that led him to become in power. Circumstances he couldn’t have controlled.
I leave without another word.
The drive back to the estate is a blur. My mind races, re-examining every piece of evidence through this new lens.
Roman was like family.
He loved my father like a brother. We were close in age, and I always thought of him as a young, fun uncle or an older brother.
There’s just no way. But I know I’m missing something.
It’s time to talk to Kira.