Chapter 3 - Nadya #2
Shouldn’t I want this? Or am I too restless—too hooked on chaos to ever find true contentment? Am I broken?
“Are you okay?” Janella’s hand cupping my cheek pulls me from my spiral.
Iosif is staring at me with concern again. “I’ve been asking her that since she showed up.”
“I’m fine,” I bite out. “I’m just fucking tired, guys. Long night. You know how it is.”
“I do know how it is,” Iosif agrees. But the relief of his agreement is short-lived. “Which is why I know you’re lying to me. You’re not the kind to bitch and moan. No one rallies like you. Which means this is something else.”
I forget, sometimes, how well he knows me.
The tension between us is thick and heavy, impenetrable. I can feel Janella looking between us, trying to decide whether to intervene or let us finish our stare-off.
Iosif is the first to break, his expression softening. “Look, you don’t have to explain. But I’d hate for you to think you’ve got to deal with anything alone, ever. You don’t. I’ve got you. And no matter how tough Trif can be, he does, too. You know that, right?”
Tears threaten again.
God, what’s wrong with me?
“Yeah,” I manage, shoving bacon in my mouth.
“Good.” He stands, hooking an arm around my shoulders to squish me into his side. “Now finish your food and then, for the love of fuck, go take a fucking nap in the guest room. You look like shit.”
“You’re so sweet,” Janella deadpans.
“I’m nothing if not honest.” He drops a kiss on top of my head, then a kiss on Janella’s lips. I don’t even have it in me to playfully gag about it. “I’ve got some more calls to make.”
Once he’s gone, Janella fully turns to me. “I’m not going to push.” Sweetly, she smooths her fingers through my gnarled hair. “I just wanted to say that I know this sisters thing is new to me. But if you want to talk, I’m here for you. And I won’t say a word to Iosif if you don’t want me to.”
I don’t doubt that my sister-in-law means it. The offer is so tempting it physically hurts.
But what am I going to say? Hey, so I fucked my brothers’ mortal enemy last night, and I can still feel him? I can’t stop thinking about him?
Yeah. I’m sure that’ll go over splendidly.
“Thanks, Nell,” I exhale instead. “I really just need to lie down. Is it cool if I just take my food and munch horizontally in bed?”
She doesn’t look any more convinced than Iosif did. She isn’t much of a pusher, though. She lets me off with a quick, “Sure. Get some rest. Iosif’s right—you look like you’re about to keel over.”
“Gee, thanks, sis.”
“You know I mean it lovingly,” she tuts, bumping her hip into mine. “And hey, fair warning—Trifon and Gela are bringing the baby over for dinner later. I’m sure he’ll have cooled off enough by then. It was pre-planned, and no one plans to gang up on you, I swear. Would you please stay?”
The idea of facing my eldest brother makes my stomach churn. But who can say no to Janella? It’s like kicking a puppy. You can’t do it unless you’re a sociopath or something.
“’ Kay,” I hear myself agree.
“Perfect! I’ll wake you up in a few hours.” She starts clearing plates, humming to herself.
I retreat to the guest room, but I can’t seem to calm down. I toss my heels in the corner, and I polish off the rest of the food in record time. But no matter how plush the bedding, I can’t get comfortable. I need to change into something else.
Sucking in a deep breath, I head for Iosif’s bedroom.
Janella’s clothes wouldn’t fit me in a million years, seeing as she’s shaped like a Polly Pocket doll: all cute, petite, and curvy. My long, angular body has a better shot with Iosif’s shit. A pair of sweatpants and a huge T-shirt sounds amazing right about now.
The bedroom is empty. I grab what I need and change quickly in the attached bathroom.
The whole time, I refused to acknowledge the marks he’d pressed into my skin.
My reflection is none of my business. Without acknowledging it, I use Janella’s stuff to take off my makeup.
I feel like I’ve aged down a decade by the time I tiptoe back to the guest room.
I’ve stayed in this room before. Just a couple of months ago, I fucked my shoulder getting shot at, of all things. It’s quiet and dark. So, why can’t I fucking sleep?
Maybe some water will help?
I only make it a few steps out of the room before I hear their voices from the living room.
“—just worried about her, doll,” Iosif is saying.
My breath catches.
“Nadya’s a wild one,” Janella replies. “You love that about her. That’s not new, is it, baby?”
“No. But—” There’s a pause. “She’s ballsy and singular and badass as hell, yeah. And she doesn’t fly under the radar. How can I protect her from that?”
“You can’t,” Janella says gently. “She’s twenty-five years old, though. She isn’t a kid anymore.”
“I know.” Frustration drips from his sigh. “And I get it. Her need for chaos. Of course I do. I used to be the same way.”
Janella’s giggle bounces off the walls. “Used to be?”
Iosif relents. “Fine. So, I’m still impulsive as fuck. Satisfied?”
There’s another pause. I’m positive they’re making out like a bunch of teenagers. I turn on my heel, ready to cut my losses and return to bed sans water.
Then my brother confesses, “I think I used to be worse. Because at least she’s still just in her twenties. And I wouldn’t have dialed it down for anyone until you.”
Janella says something in response. She says it too softly for me to hear.
“You.” The word is definitive. “I couldn’t stand the thought of someone else suffering the consequences of risks I liked to take. Couldn’t stand the idea of you paying for my recklessness.”
Another pause.
Then, “Nadya doesn’t have that. She doesn’t have an anchor, so she doesn’t recognize a limit. I’m worried the person she’s going to end up hurting is herself.”
His words knock me back, a real blow to my stomach.
He doesn’t even consider that I’m insane enough to have found a way to hurt myself and my family.
Because… What if Viktor did know who I was?
The thought has been circling inside my brain since I saw his face on Iosif’s screen. Now, it crashes over me with brutal clarity.
What if he saw me at the club and recognized me? What if the whole thing—the cigarettes, the banter, and how seamlessly he went along with my refusal to trade names—was all some elaborate ploy?
Iosif told me months ago that Viktor went after Valentin’s wife, Gela.
That’s how they met. He protected her from Zakharov using her business for criminal shit and came after her when she wouldn’t comply and surrender.
And he used Janella’s fucked-up father to come after her for some unhinged reason. Janella, who would never hurt a fly.
It’s clear that Yuri's women are the perfect leverage for him. If wives are, why wouldn’t Yuri's sisters be fair game too?
My breaths grow shallow. My lungs scream in protest.
I can feel his hands all over me, his blunt fingernails biting into my skin. I’d thought it was hunger that matched mine. He must have been hungry for revenge, this whole time.
I back away, retreating into the guest room on shaking legs.
I need to get out of here.
I need to go.