Chapter 18 Vivika
VIVIKA
When Lev informed me that we were expected at his uncle’s house, I wasn't sure what to expect.
I'm nervous as we walk to the front door, though he keeps telling me not to be.
Lev has tried to assure me multiple times that since I belong to him now—whatever that means—his family will respect me as if I am one of them. But the nerves don't quit.
The woman who opens the door when we knock is glowing, belly swollen with pregnancy, and she's gorgeous. I can only assume it's Yuri's wife, the one Lev told me about.
"Lev." She kisses his cheek and hugs him tightly before pulling back. "You look like hell."
"Thank you, Inessa. Always a pleasure." Lev laughs at her, as if her comment was a playful insult that goes over my head. It seems like a perfectly normal interaction for two family members to have. I think I expected it to be darker or hostile, but this woman is pleasant—normal, even.
"And this must be the woman I've been hearing so much about." Inessa turns her attention to me, sweeping her gaze from my face down to my shoes and back up again. "The resemblance really is remarkable."
I don't know what to say to that, so I stand there beside Lev with my hands clasped in front of me and my heart pounding against my ribs. Being assessed like this is unnerving and I don’t like it.
It's the "meet the family" pressure multiplied by ten thousand because these aren't normal people.
They're criminals and thieves and I'm not one of them. I don’t fit in.
"Hello," I say meekly.
"Oh, come on," she says, grinning. "Yuri's expecting you.
" Inessa leads us through the grand foyer and down a hallway lined with oil paintings that look old like they belong in a museum, past closed doors and silent rooms until we reach a set of double doors at the end of the hall.
She pushes them open without knocking and gestures for us to enter.
"The war room," she says, and there's something almost amused in her voice. "Good luck."
The room beyond is exactly what I would've imagined if someone had asked me to picture where criminals hold their meetings.
A long table dominates the center, surrounded by leather chairs, and the walls are lined with maps and screens.
Crystal decanters filled with amber liquid sit on a sideboard, and the whole space carries an air of serious business.
Three men are already seated at the table, and they all turn to look at us as we enter.
I recognize Fyodor immediately—other than a darker suit, he looks the same as he did when he drove us around to those little outings Lev planned.
And the man to his right looks at me with contempt, like he's deciding whether I'm worth the trouble.
Across from him sits another man with broad shoulders and a dirty scowl.
I instinctively stand a bit closer to Lev as he ushers me in and Inessa closes the door.
"Lev." Yuri rises from his chair to greet his nephew with a handshake. "I heard about the incident at the bus station. You're lucky to be alive."
"Luck had nothing to do with it." Lev places his hand on the small of my back, a gesture of possession that the other men in the room don't miss. "Vivika drove us out of there and patched me up afterward."
Every eye in the room turns to me, scrutinizing me, but no one says much. It's like I'm being assessed based on my performance, and they lighten up when they hear how I didn't bail on Lev when he needed me.
"Come." Yuri gestures toward the sideboard. "Have a drink."
Lev guides me across the room and pours two glasses, handing one to me. I bring it to my lips and down the entire thing in one long swallow that burns all the way to my stomach.
The men exchange glances, and Lev takes the glass from my hand and refills it without comment before making proper introductions. I'll never remember their names, mostly because I'm too anxious to think straight, but when he's finished, I feel a bit better about the men around me.
"Please, sit." Yuri returns to his chair and waves at the empty seats near the middle of the table. "We have much to discuss."
I lower myself into one of the chairs and clutch my refilled glass, hyperaware of Lev beside me and the four other men around the table.
Dimitri's watching me with that cold scowl, which I don’t care for, and I get the feeling that if he had his way, I wouldn’t be here.
But when Yuri starts talking, I turn to him and ignore Lev's other uncle.
"I'll get straight to the point," Yuri says, folding his hands on the table in front of him.
"We've received confirmation from one of my most reliable sources about Ana Veche.
" The room goes still, everyone's attention sharpening to a fine point as they wait for what Yuri has to say.
"Ana Veche has been dead for months. Since before we even took Vivika off the street. "
I feel the blood drain from my face at the mention of my name. The woman I've been pretending to be—she's dead? So they really did kill her, and now Lev has me playing a part in this scheme and they want me gone too, because my being alive and well, parading around as her, makes them look foolish.
"How?" Lev asks in a tight voice.
"That's where it gets interesting." Yuri leans back in his chair, scanning around the table to gauge everyone's reactions. "According to my source, Ana was killed by her own brother, just as we suspected. Yaros murdered her to take control of the family, and he's been covering it up ever since."
None of the men at this table seem surprised by this news at all.
Either they knew already or they had deep suspicions, but it's shocking to me.
That anyone would kill another human just to have more power is disgusting, but your own sibling?
My bottom lip trembles and I take a sip of my drink to hide it.
"That explains why he wants her dead," Fyodor says slowly. "Our Ana, I mean."
"Exactly." Yuri nods. "Yaros has been telling his family that Ana went away on business, but then we came along with a woman who looks exactly like her, and suddenly, everyone's asking questions."
"So I was right," Lev grumbles and sets his glass on the table in front of him. "And they're wondering why she's aligned with us… Which puts the heat on us now."
"They're more than wondering." Yuri picks up a folder from the table and flips it open, scanning the contents. "Our guy on the inside tells me those loyal to Ana have accused him outright now and they demand proof. It's only a matter of time before a full-scale civil war erupts in that family."
"And the Balkan Syndicate?" Dimitri asks.
"Luka Kolar still believes Ana's alive and traveling. Yaros has been very careful to maintain that fiction with his external partners." Yuri closes the folder and sets it aside. "But that's about to change."
I take a sip of my drink, trying to steady my trembling hands as I listen to these men discuss the murder of a woman I've never met.
How did he do it? And if to lead the family is the only reason, why wouldn't Ana just walk away to save her life?
I don't understand what is worth giving your life up.
"What's Yaros's endgame, then?" Lev asks. "If his own family's starting to doubt him, if keeping Ana's death secret is becoming harder—what's his plan?"
Lev has a good point. A man can only hide the truth for so long.
Truth is like the sunrise. Eventually, it shines and everyone can see it blindingly.
If Ana's brother thinks he can keep hold of her power and not have her presence to back it, what desperate thing will he do when his plan disintegrates, and will I be at the receiving end of it?
It makes me gulp the drink in my glass and wince when I realize it's gone now.
"That's why I called this meeting." Yuri's gaze shifts to me, and I feel his eyes on me like a hand wrapping around my throat. "Our source has uncovered Yaros's strategy for dealing with the problem we've created for him."
"Which is?"
"He intends to have Ana killed publicly." When he speaks, it's pragmatic and cold. There is zero emotion in it, no sense of concern or compassion. It chills me. "Our Ana—Vivika. He's going to arrange her death and blame it on the Gravitch family and then use that as justification for war."
The glass slips from my fingers and shatters on the floor as I tremble. They've played right into some sick plot they didn't plan for and I'm the lynchpin. It goes our way or it goes Yaros's way, but either way, I'm risking death.
Everyone turns to look at me, but I can't breathe. I'm horrified and paralyzed, and even when Lev's hand rests on my knee, I still sit trembling. I'm not Ana Veche and right now, I'm not acting. If he expected me to pretend to be the dead Donna, he should’ve prepared me better for this.
"He thinks he can take us on?" Lev growls and then scoffs in a chuckle.
"Not alone, he doesn't." Yuri doesn't look away from me. "If Yaros convinces his allies that we murdered Ana Veche—the beloved Donna—he'll have every Veche soldier and Balkan syndicate member calling for our blood. The combined forces would be overwhelming."
"We'd be finished," Fyodor says quietly.
"We'd be worse than finished. There would be no recovery, no rebuilding. The Gravitch family would cease to exist." Dimitri stands abruptly, shoving his chair back hard. It rolls backward into the sideboard and stops, but all eyes snap to him.
The room erupts into discussion—voices overlapping, strategies being proposed and dismissed, anger and fear mixing into a cacophony that makes my head spin. But I can't hear anything beyond the roaring in my ears and the single thought that keeps repeating in my mind like a broken record.