Chapter 37 Yulian #2
“Yulian,” she hisses.
“I’ll protect her with my life, not because you threatened me or for a deal.” He stares down at her, squeezing her shoulder. “But because she’s the woman I love and my future wife.”
Disgusting, I think as he drops a kiss to her forehead. I don’t want her to go to Boston, and I don’t want her marrying someone who seems at least eight years older than her, but as I watch them together, I know I don’t have a say in this.
And really, even if I do get married, Dad will find another bidder for Alina. So at least she’s choosing this.
And she does look happy in a way I’ve never seen her before.
He better protect that happiness, or I’ll castrate the motherfucker.
“I’ll go talk to Dad.” I start to leave, but Alina takes my hand.
“Talk to Lukas as well.”
“Why would I talk to Lukas?”
“He’s been up to something.”
“How is that new? That nuisance is always up to something.”
“This is different. He’s on the verge of breaking through.
” Her expression softens. “We had a talk the other day, and I don’t think he hates us.
He’s just…jealous of us because we lived well off, which can’t be said about him and Mikailo.
Dad refuses the notion of a, quote, unquote, bastard inheriting from him, so it’s like they’re caught in limbo.
We vaguely know the hell they went through in Russia, but from the stories they told me, it was really bad.
Like, it’s a miracle they’re alive, you know. ”
“Are you seriously sympathizing with Lukas and Mikailo, who want to kill us?”
“They don’t. They just want to be given a chance, especially Lukas.
” She stares up at the man who’s stroking her shoulder.
“After knowing Levian, I see our half-brothers in a different light. Lukas spent his entire life surviving, which isn’t that dissimilar to how you and I lived under Papa’s dictatorship.
Maybe we all just need to talk it out. We never did because Papa always said we were different than them, and he probably said something similar to Lukas and Mikailo to drive a wedge between us. ”
“Divide and conquer?”
“Yeah. Just think about it, okay? Lukas can be an asset.” She places her hand on top of Levian’s. “And Levy said he’ll support you if you want to become leader.”
I narrow my eyes at him. “Why would you do that?”
“Because you’re Alina’s brother, who she loves dearly and talks about all the time.”
“Guilty as charged.” She laughs.
I don’t mean to, but a smile rips out of me as I feel a weight lifting off my shoulders.
I was the one who wheeled Alya down the aisle amongst everyone’s whispers.
Their opinion didn’t matter anyway, because Alya demanded I do it, and what Alya wants, Alya gets.
My father slapped me for being useless and said he’d deal with me for everything—running away from home and ditching the marriage.
However, his top priority was to save face and his alliance with Boston.
My bride-to-be wasn’t keen on this marriage either, so Yaroslav and Markov hastily facilitated Alina and Levian’s marriage.
He didn’t care that I walked Alina down the aisle, mostly because I know that motherfucker is embarrassed by her disability. I’m glad I didn’t see him since he was called out for an emergency during the reception.
Good fucking riddance.
After I gave Levian a lecture on how to take care of Alya and made sure she left for her new home safely, I drove back to the mansion from the airport with Cyrus.
Now, he’s also disappeared, seeming preoccupied with a new “project,” as he called it. Honestly, I feel sorry for whoever is the subject of his project. I feel more sorry if that subject is that nerdy dude who looked like he was peaceful and completely disconnected from our world.
No, seriously, Cy has changed lately. At the reception, I caught him sitting in a corner, wearing a manic expression, staring at a photo that had been ripped in half, then glued back together.
In it, there was a younger version of him, maybe thirteen, with his arm thrown over the shoulder of a guy in frameless glasses. And lo and behold, it was the nerdy-looking guy Cy’s been stalking in the library. The guy looked almost the same, even though the picture is several years old.
Cy, however, seemed completely different. For one, he was smiling, so wide that his eyes were half closed. In all the years I’ve known him, I’ve never, and I mean never, seen Cy smile that wide.
He hid the picture as soon as he saw me snooping, then waved me off when I tried to ask questions about his past that he keeps under lock and key.
Anyway, Cy’s current location doesn’t matter, because all I want to do is go to Vaughn.
Sure enough, when I turned on my phone, I was bombarded with notifications. He called me fifty-seven times and sent me a string of texts. At first, they were angry, then pleading, then he threatened that I better not get married or he’d ruin it.
But before I could reply to him, or better yet, fly back to that peaceful nook in the mountains, Lukas asked me to come to the lower levels.
Now, I don’t usually listen to Lukas’s demands, but after that conversation with Alya, I do head to that godforsaken place. It’s to my and Alya’s benefit not to be targeted by Lukas. Dad is already a hassle as it is. Add a power-hungry brother to that, and it’s chaos.
Well, at least Alya has a husband who seems to care about her, so we’re safe in that regard, but I still wouldn’t trust Lukas not to go after her in his quest for power.
The men stationed in front of the door look…different. They’re not the usual goons my dad uses, though Vaughn did say he killed many of them.
For me.
That rule-stickler guy brought his parents and the elites in New York with him and broke into the Chicago mafia leader’s residence just to get me out.
“I’d do it again in a heartbeat,” he said when I asked if he’d thought of the consequences.
And now, my chest hurts because it was such a shitty idea to tell him goodbye in a letter. Hopefully, he doesn’t hate me too much.
The new goons-in-chief bow upon seeing me and even open the door for me.
I raise a brow. “You guys get a personality transplant? Or maybe you don’t want me to chew your body parts off?”
They say nothing, and I step into the dungeon, my muscles tightening and my ribs protesting at the memories of the last time I was here.
I place a hand in my pocket. My wedding tux doesn’t feel so suffocating now, but I did throw the bow tie and jacket somewhere during the reception as I carried Alya in my arms and danced with her. She was giggling so hard, and I saw Mama’s softness in her eyes.
My train of thought stops, and so do my feet. The smell of dampness and blood permeates the air, but it’s not the onslaught of memories that overtake me. It’s the view of the person tied to a chair in the middle of the room, just like I was not long ago.
Dad.
His massive body is completely bound, and his pale-blue shirt is soaked through with blood, his face bruised, swollen, and bloodied, almost unrecognizable.
“What the fuck you looking at?” Yaroslav shouts, blood dripping from his lips and into the puddle by his feet. “Free me, Yulian!”
“I don’t recommend it.” Lukas emerges from the shadows like a creep, his shirt sleeves rolled to his elbows, splatters of blood all over it.
That was the shirt of the suit he was wearing at Alya’s wedding ceremony when he took Dad to the side during the reception for urgent business.
“So the emergency was…” I stare between him and Dad. “This?”
“Yes. Thought it would be poetic to give Alina an appropriate wedding gift,” Lukas says.
“Appropriate is a stretch.”
“Why the fuck are you talking to him? Yulian, unbind me, now—”
His words turn into a mumble when Lukas slaps duct tape over his mouth. “Shh. You’ve talked enough for a lifetime.”
“Where’s Mikailo?” I study my surroundings, searching for the big oaf. “I’m surprised he’s not shadowing you.”
“He’d never agree to hurting Yaroslav. Unfortunately, he can be emotional, caring, and loving toward a father who never gave two fucks about us. I spiked his drink during the wedding. That way, he’ll sleep peacefully instead of interfering.”
“And when he wakes up?”
“I’ll remind him about the man who left his mother to freeze to death in the slums.”
“And if that doesn’t convince him?”
“It will. Leave Mikailo to me as I know how to deal with him best. He’s my brother before he’s Yaroslav’s son.”
I can trust that. They were always close. As close as Alya and me.
“You’ve thought this through.”
“I have.”
I jut my chin in Dad’s direction, who’s still mumbling and swaying in his chair. “You do realize his loyalists will be at your throat like hyenas, right?”
“Not quite.” Lukas grabs a long rod from the table, running his fingers over the metal. “I swayed about half of the leaders to my side.”
“While I’m all for the coup d’état attempts, the other half still exists.”
“That’s where you come in.”
“Me?”
“Yes, you. The other half will never fully follow me since a bastard will always be a bastard in their eyes, but with you as co-leader, we’ll have both legitimacy and fear on our side.” He stands taller. “I’m offering you a deal—rule together and cut the old man out for good.”
“That other half you talk about contains some traditionals like my father who’ll never accept me anyway, because I plan to spend the rest of my life with the man I love.”
He raises a brow.
“If you have objections to that, I’ll walk out right now and leave you fighting rebellions for the rest of your reign.”
“I have no particular objections. I was already aware of your extracurricular activities, and it changes nothing.”
“No?”
“No. You can just kill them, Yulian. Throw away the trash, do a house cleanup. We need that anyway when changing leadership.”
I smile. “I like the way you think.”
“Everyone does.” His lips twitch a bit, then he removes the duct tape from Dad’s mouth. “Any last words, Yaroslav?”
He spits blood on the ground at Lukas’s feet. “No one will accept the son of a whore and a faggot.”
Lukas snarls, but he smooths it into an evil smile. “Guess you won’t be around to see your legacy taken over by us.”
“You know.” I walk toward my father, pulling out my gun.
“I used to think being beaten by you on the regular was my fault. That I was doing something wrong by just existing and being a disappointment to you. So I wanted to prove myself. I bled more, trained harder, broke my bones over and over, hoping you’d look at me as a son instead of a mistake.
But you never did, and somewhere along the way, I stopped caring.
And now, I realize it’s not me, it’s you.
It’s always been you and your closed-up thinking and lack of paternal care.
You fathered four children but were never a father, and I believe it’s time to end the nightmare for all of us.
” I lift the gun, my hand surprisingly steady. “Goodbye, Yaroslav.”
And then I pull the trigger.
The bullet sinks into his forehead, the crack reverberating through the dungeon and rattling my ears.
I wait for anguish. Regret. Guilt. Instead, there’s nothing but relief.
The burden I’ve carried for years peels away as his dead eyes glaze into the void.
I’m finally…free.