62. Octavia
“You have got to stop bringing random men back home with you every time you fly out of town, cousin,” Nik says from the head of the table. Dad’s seat.
Everyone was already gathered by the time we returned to the compound.
The cleaning crew did a fantastic job, because all signs of bloodshed have been scrubbed clean.
Even the broken window has been replaced.
It feels like I should be able to pad up the grand staircase and slip into Dad’s office for our latest chess rematch.
“This is Ivan Petrov,” I say, gesturing to the tattooed, blond man towering in the chair beside mine.
“And I was just starting to grow attached to your last escapade,” Nik says from across the table. His smile doesn’t meet his eyes. “How did you manage to replace him so quickly?”
“Petrov?” Maksim pushes off his perch against the wall, giving Ivan a strange look.
I nod. “He’s Solokov’s Second. My last escapade is working on our hostage situation in the cellar.” I sent Vas down as soon as we arrived. I might have the bias of loving him, but when it comes to cutting out information, no one is his equal. I know he’ll get me something useful.
For the first time in the handful of months I’ve known them, my cousins go quiet. They’re all staring at Ivan with the same intense look. To my surprise, it’s Maksim who breaks the silence.
“No fucking way.”
“Way,” Ivan returns.
Maksim blinks. Then he walks over to the table and slides into the chair across from mine. “How…the fuck…is Ivan Petrov sitting at our dinner table right now?”
I frown. It’s unnerving to see Maksim so vocal. “Do you know him?”
“Do I…” He trails off, shaking his head. “That’s Ivan Petrov.”
I blink.
“Everyone knows him, Octavia.”
“I’m flattered,” Ivan drawls with a smile. “Who knew I’d have to go halfway across the country for my reputation to stand up on its own.”
“What is he doing here?” Ben asks, looking directly at me with a tense expression.
I lean back in my chair. He’s not going to like this.
“To get the resources we needed, I had to make a deal.”
Alex glances up from his phone, fingers halting mid-text. I left him with the job of drawing up covert housing arrangements for our new army, which has kept him busy ever since the impromptu wedding.
“What did you give them?”
My nails find a new scab to pick below the table. “I brought seventy-five men—”
“What did you give them?” Ben repeats, slower.
I straighten at his tone. “Technically, I am also Popov’s heir. I agreed to hand over his empire to a man of Mikhail’s choosing after they help us conquer it. He chose Ivan.”
A shriek echoes from the floorboards below, punctuating my statement. Then comes a low wail composed of incoherent pleas for help.
I hope Vas is making more progress than I am at the moment.
“So we outnumber them now?” Nik asks with wide eyes.
“It doesn’t matter if we outnumber them,” Ben says. “How do we know he won’t turn around and launch an attack on us after all’s said and done? This was stupid.”
“Simple,” Ivan says, unchanged. “I won’t.”
“No offense, man, but I don’t trust you for shit. You think I haven’t heard the stories about you and Solokov?” Ben’s voice sharpens. “You took advantage of her with this deal, and we both know it.”
“Ben,” Alex admonishes.
“I’m not trying to be insulting. You are family, Octavia, and I’d die for you, but you didn’t grow up in this world, and you’ve never dealt with these types of men. We should’ve never left you in the position to be exploited by their negotiations—”
“You’re out of turn,” Alex cuts in, but I wave him off.
“It’s alright,” I say. “Let him speak his mind.”
“Octavia, I only want to keep you safe,” Ben says, eyes pleading with mine.
“There’s a reason why we keep our women out of the illegal side of our business.
The same reason Mom is tucked away in a safehouse with half of our remaining guards.
You are too precious. Too important. I should’ve never let you fly to New York in the first place. ”
“Wow.” Ivan raises a brow. “You guys are kinda sexist for being the first female-led syndicate.”
“It’s not sexist to want to shield my baby cousin from the horrors of war. There’s no one to hold her hand out there. There’s no way to look away from the bodies and blood—”
“I’ve seen my fair share of bodies and blood,” I finally say, breaking my careful silence.
He at least has the good nature to look ashamed. “I know, O. And you sat with him for hours. I don’t think I’ll ever forget the look on your face.”
I’m not sure if it was wise to allow Ben to share his thoughts so publicly, but it’s nothing the others aren’t already thinking. If I don’t cut out the rot, every limb of this syndicate will be poisoned against me. Now isn’t the time for a revolt.
Nonetheless, some part of me pulses with hurt I’ll never allow to surface.
We had nothing when I left. No allies. No resources.
If we had waited any longer, I do not doubt that one of us would’ve done something careless and emotional like sneak onto Popov’s land and launch a solo attack.
I had to take a risk. I had to ask for help in the one place neither Ben nor Alex would’ve turned. Why doesn’t he understand that?
I lift my chin, addressing the entire table.
“I’ve spent days in a cage because of this family.”
Their gazes leap to mine.
“I sent the love of my life back to his psychotic uncle for this family.” I gesture to the scar on my cheek.
“It was your enemies who strapped me to a chair and tortured me for hours, not mine, so don’t tell me I’m too precious for your filthy family business.
When I left this house days ago, covered in blood and gore, we were hopeless. ”
“I didn’t mean it that way,” Ben mutters, lowering his eyes to the table. “I…” he trails off.
“You are my family.” I look up to the rest of the group. “You are the brothers I never had. But this man here,” I say, nodding to Ivan. “is my ally. Not yours. The designation is only relevant if you want to continue fighting my leadership.”
“I’ve had enough of this.” Alex drops his phone onto the table. “Yes, I kept your mother out of the business. That was her choice to make, just as I’ve given each of you a choice of involvement after you came of age. Your mother and I are a team, and we split our duties as we saw fit.”
His words remind me of that afternoon spent working in the garden before everything went to hell. Juliet said something similar about the role she chose, allowing her husband to protect her from the violence of this family. I suppose there’s no way to protect her from her son’s horrifying fate.
I will get him back.
She will get him back.
“But Octavia is Sasha’s heir,” Alex continues. “And this week, she did the impossible. Seventy-five men, Ben! That’s a fighting chance at getting your brother back, and you have the nerve to spit in her face? The boys I raised would never overlook a sacrifice like that.”
His defense is a bandage I press to my hidden wounds.
I don’t know what else I can give to be enough for them.
I don’t care about the Popov territory’s value or the small chance that Ivan will turn around and kill us all.
If there’s something I can sell or gamble with to retrieve Kirill alive, I’ll hand it over without a second thought.
Ben opens his mouth, but before he can respond, a commotion pulls our attention to the front door.
My weapon is drawn before my next breath, and clicks echo throughout the room as everyone else does the same.
The door swings open. The first man through is unfamiliar, but I know he’s one of Ivan’s when the gun raised beside me tucks back into its holster.
“Report,” Ivan barks.
“A rogue got through the perimeter,” the new guy says. I tilt my head, trying to see what he’s holding in his hand.
“Tell me you kept him alive.”
“Negative,” the guy responds, stepping forward and setting the strange red bundle onto the table. “Morozov’s guys shot him down before I had a chance to intercede. But we found this on his body,” he says, gesturing to the object. “We think he was a messenger.”
“Christ.” Ivan shakes his head.
“I’ll deal with it.” Alex rises. “They should know better than shooting to kill.”
Ignoring them all, I push back my chair and walk over to the item. On first glance, it looks like garbage. An unassuming red piece of cloth wrapped into a small bundle. I approach slowly, half expecting a grenade to explode as soon as I touch it.
And, in a way, it does.
Because when I unwrap the stiff cloth, the fabric isn’t red at all. It’s stained.
And as it unfurls across the table, a small item falls loose, alongside a smeared note.
Alex gasps over my shoulder when I bend down to pick up the object, still wrapped in a gleaming, gold ring bearing our family’s crest.