Chapter 39 Lev
LEV
Me
Hey. Your upcoming show—save me two tickets.
Annoying Twin
Hi. Sorry, you must have the wrong number. Who is this?
Me
You’re not funny.
Annoying Twin
I’m hilarious, even if you’re the one cracking the jokes.
I can’t recall the last time you came to a performance.
Me
Four years ago. July 2.
Annoying Twin
That’s oddly specific.
Me
The woman beside me kept hissing at her husband. The night is seared into my brain. Besides, why would I come to more? I’ve grown up watching you on the stage. You’re good. You know you’re good. I know you’re good. There’s never a need for me to watch you over and over.
Annoying Twin
Until now…
Me
Gabriella mentioned Serafina wanting to see a show. This seems like a prime opportunity.
Annoying Twin
YOU will attend for Serafina? That’s interesting.
Me
Stop reading more into it. You’ll go blind.
Annoying Twin
I know you! We shared a damn womb. You like her more than you’re letting on. You wouldn’t attend for just anyone.
Me
She’s strong. Stole my gun. Threatened me with it.
Annoying Twin
Now you’re cracking jokes—also unlike you. Tell yourself whatever you want, but be careful.
Me
We’re friends, nothing more. Friends attend shows together.
Annoying Twin
Whatever. Box or front row?
Me
Front row. She’ll like being close.
Annoying Twin
Sure. Next week can’t come quick enough.
Don’t forget, there’s a dress code. Serafina will need clothes since I doubt she’s travelled with a formal dress.
Me
I haven’t forgotten. I’ll take care of her. You worry about you.
Annoying Twin
Now to decide whose side to take when this blows up. Van’s because I actually like her, or yours, since we’re twins. Hmm…
Me
Fuck off.
Iglance up from my phone towards the futon where Serafina has her textbooks and laptop spread out as she whips notes together. The activity looks tedious, but she does it all with concentration, only huffing occasionally as she flips between pages.
If only I could regret yesterday. I did the thing that’ll anger Vanessa and Zeno—after my Pakhan specifically told me not to. I wish I had more control around Serafina. For once in my life, I chased what felt good, and Serafina…Fina’s worth it.
There shouldn’t be anything above the Bratva, above my vows and oaths.
The organization is fused within my bloodstream, exactly how Papa meant for it to be.
He’s succeeded in that much, and once we forced him out of Russia, everything fell into place.
Becoming one of Vanessa’s Spies is my identity, my pride.
All the work, my friendship and loyalty to Vanessa, my support of her takeover—she brought the Bratva into a new age, and I was on the correct side of it.
For me, nothing—no one—is above my vows.
Some-fucking-how, Serafina placed herself there. She calms my heart, my head, and it’s impossible to consider the fallout. If shit falls apart, Serafina will be kept out of it and not in trouble with Zeno; I’ll take the blame to ensure she walks away from this unscathed.
“You’re watching me,” she muses in a sing-song voice without looking up from her work. “I can feel it.”
“Good.”
Right now, I can, but one day, she’ll be gone, and I won’t have this chance. My world will return to shadows and unfeeling, to constant buzzing and overstimulation, whereas my form of therapy will be in an entirely different country.
It’ll be like the time I came home and found my computers trashed on Papa’s orders.
The world felt dark that day. I recall reacting, but nothing I said or did.
That was before tapping calmed me down, when I had no healthy coping mechanisms. He tossed me back into prison until I learned the meaning of discipline and duty.
It’s with those thoughts I roll my computer chair to her side, drag her closer for a quick and hard kiss, and then push her back into her school work with a smirk.
“Do your work.”
She groans, sticks out her tongue, and then returns to studying like everything’s normal.
It’s not normal, but it’s fucking right.
So, so curious.
My sister comes home later that evening, finding Serafina and me in the kitchen. She’s standing at the island, typing on her laptop. Her studying took the briefest pause for lunch, and that’s the longest I’ve seen her face today.
I appreciate her focus and dedication. In many ways, she reminds me of myself.
Before the rest of the household joins us and things return to normal, I wanted her one more time, but her schooling must come above my newfound obsession. So, once finished in the bathroom this morning, I left her alone.
Anastasia dramatically flounces into the room and claims the stool beside Serafina. “Whatever you’re cooking smells delicious. Right on time, since I’m starving. I worked up an appetite at the studio.” She glances over the textbook spread in front of Serafina and whistles. “You understand this?”
Serafina nods but doesn’t spare my sister a glance—which I’m selfishly pleased about.
“It’s the anatomy of a cell. Trying to memorize all the parts and the function of each before this week’s quiz.
Also, our mid-term next month is essentially all the quizzes compiled, so the better I do on this quiz, the more confident I’ll feel about the exam. ”
My sister curses in our language. “You’re one of those people. Like Lev. You’re smart as hell.”
That earns her brief attention, and she throws a smile my way that Ana is too perceptive to miss, which likely means being questioned later. It takes me a while to look away.
“Well,” my sister breaks the silence, “two seats have been set aside for you guys. Front and centre, of course. Nothing but the best.”
Serafina blinks, glancing from me to Ana, brow furrowed. “What?”
“My brother didn’t tell you?” A slow smirk spreads across her lips, and she winks my way. “You’re coming to my show next week. He asked me to set tickets aside.”
Serafina gasps. “How the hell did you know?”
“Your mother,” I reply, giving them my back to drag the heavy pot of water and noodles to the sink for draining. “When you were packing, Vanessa was telling your mama what life here would look like, and at the mention of Ana, she said you were watching all her old performances online.”
Anastasia slips out of her seat with a waggle of her fingers. “Save me pasta. I’m going to get changed.” Either she’s so perceptive, she’s giving us a moment I don’t deserve, or she’s not perceptive enough, and she’s missing the way Serafina’s about to combust from excitement.
The second my sister evacuates the room, Serafina flings herself from her seat and bolts around the counter to throw herself into my arms. “You shouldn’t have, Lev. Attending sounds like it’ll be difficult on you.”
Lying to ease her tempts me, but I’d already opened up so much to her, what’s a bit more? “It’ll be worth it to see this look in your eyes again.”
Turning from the pots, I stroke a thumb down the side of her face, to which she nuzzles into me. “I kinda wanna talk you out of this, but I also want to go.”
“Don’t bother trying, because I won’t let you skip. Besides, a ballet performance isn’t as chaotic as university.”
“Still…” She sucks her teeth and frowns, so I lower my head to kiss her of the guilt before my sister returns and ruins my life. “Thank you,” she whispers in the small space between us as I straighten, returning to food preparations. “I can’t wait.”
As Serafina reclaims her seat, her lips showing subtle signs of our kiss, Anastasia flounces back in, smirk still annoyingly present.
Hours after dinner and more studying, this time in her bedroom, Serafina drops onto the futon with an exhausted, drawn-out groan. Her head lowers onto the back of the couch as she rubs her eyes. “God, I’m tired. I don’t want to do the quiz tomorrow.”
“You’ll be fine.” No point in stressing about something that has yet to pass, or that she’s been working hard to prepare for. I see no point in why people do this.
Knowing Serafina needs comfort and not facts, I shut off my game and settle into the spot beside her before grasping her hand and massaging fingers until she moans again. “Mm, that feels pleasant. Didn’t realize how tired they are.”
“I spend ninety-nine percent of my time on a computer. Typing can be hard on the hands.” She did a lot of it today, typing and retyping and summarizing notes over and over.
After a moment of working her fingers, she tugs them back onto her lap with a grateful smile. “Think you can stomach TV? I haven’t come down all week, so before getting too behind, I’d like to binge a few episodes.”
She avoided the basement to avoid me—a hard fact to reconcile with.
But now, she’s back.
And mine.
Kind of.
I slip the remote into her hand and shift into a more comfortable position to watch pointless drama scripted for TV ratings.
We’re halfway through an episode when she starts chewing on her thumb—a behaviour I’ve never seen from her before.
“What is it?”
“Amara.”
The friend whose number I pulled from her phone the other day.
I hadn’t been able to do much with it other than a cursory search.
So far, there’s been little to no information on the girl, so I’ve requested the information Zeno said he found ages ago, back when they first became friends, to see if there’s something he missed.
“My messages still won’t go through, like she’s disconnected her phone. She’s always been a bit secretive, but so was I due to Z, so I didn’t think much of it. But not only did she disappear at the party, she’s disappeared period. At first, I was annoyed. Now…now, I’m a bit concerned.”
“I’ve already been looking into it,” I admit, watching for her reaction.
“When I did your phone transfer, I took her number to search around for information, because I knew what she did bothered you.” And admittingly me, because something about this friendship feels dangerous.
Then again, what do I truly know about friendships?
“And?” Hope tinges her tone.