Chapter 29
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Briony
"Where did she go?"
Varlam's voice drifted from the hospital room—hoarse, weak, but still carrying that force that made people obey without thinking.
"Sir, you can't get out of bed." The nurse's voice became clear as I pushed the door open.
Varlam had already thrown back the covers, one foot on the floor.
The IV line pulled taut, the heart monitor beeping urgently.
Gleb stood at the foot of the bed like a silent wall.
Two nurses flanked Varlam, neither daring to actually restrain him.
Makar blocked his path, looking like he was seconds away from fighting his own brother.
Everyone turned to look at me at once. Varlam too. Those steel-gray eyes tightened first, then all the sharp edges withdrew. His shoulders dropped an inch, as if only now allowing himself to breathe.
I held up the thermos helplessly.
"I just went to get water." I walked in, kicking the door shut with my foot. "Five minutes. Was that worth the dramatics?"
Varlam stared at me without answering. His face was pale, the wound still seeping blood. Silver-gray hair fell across his forehead, less neat than usual, stripped of that untouchable authority.
"Get back in bed," I said.
Varlam didn't move.
I set the thermos on the cabinet and turned to face him. "You want to lie back down yourself, or should I call the doctor to strap you down?"
Varlam finally sat back on the bed. The nurses rechecked the needle and wound, warning him not to move around. He listened expressionless, his gaze never leaving me.
That look was hot and direct, like a hand sliding slowly down the back of my neck. I poured a glass of water, deliberately not looking at him.
After the nurses left, Gleb retreated to the window. Makar didn't leave. He leaned against the wall, arms crossed, mouth pressed into a hard line.
I handed Varlam the water. He raised his right hand. The IV port still taped to his wrist, fingers pale from blood loss.
"Drink," I said. "Stop interrogating me with your eyes."
"I'm not interrogating you."
"Then what are you doing?"
"Making sure you're here."
Even like this, he could still say things that got under my skin.
I pulled over a chair and sat beside the bed. "I'm here. Now drink."
He obeyed.
This was probably the most unbelievable scene since I'd known him. The head of the Petrov family, used to making entire rooms bend to his will, quietly finishing half a glass of water because I told him to. He set the cup down, palm still cupping the side.
"There are things I should have told you sooner."
"Yes. There are."
My answer came too fast. Makar's eyebrow twitched, like he was trying not to laugh. Varlam didn't get angry. He just looked at me, something rare and guilty in his eyes.
"I've known Brinny for many years." He said. "I thought I owed her an explanation."
My fingers tightened, nails digging into my palm. That name could still hurt.
"Keep going," I said.
Varlam saw the nail marks in my palm. He reached out like he wanted to touch me, but stopped his hand on the sheet.
"I didn't know what kind of person she was then."
"You made me feel stupid." I stared at him. "Like some little girl bought off with a few promises."
"You're not."
"But that's how you treated me."
"Yes."
He didn't make excuses. One word, heavier than any explanation.
"I'm sorry, Briony."
His voice dropped.
"Not because things got out of control. Not because you were taken. Because I hurt you, and I knew you were already scared, but I still chose the easiest way out."
I looked at his wound. Thick gauze showed at the edge of his hospital gown. Makar hadn't said a word the whole time. He leaned against the wall, face getting darker. He'd wanted to say something countless times, but in the end he just listened.
Makar didn't like his brother sitting here asking me for a chance. But he knew Varlam had earned the right to finish.
"The Vasiliev family is gone completely." Gleb's low voice came from the window.
I looked at him.
Gleb's expression didn't change, as if he was discussing a finished file.
"Everyone at the warehouse was taken into custody.
Their accounts, locations, operations—all seized.
The ones willing to talk stayed. The ones who weren't won't be seen again.
Every channel Vigo left behind is sealed.
He has no family to return to, no one who'll work for him anymore. "
My stomach twisted lightly. Even without understanding, I knew what "gone completely" meant in their world.
"Even so, it doesn't matter." His mouth held no smile. "You're already with Makar."
Makar straightened immediately. I froze for two seconds.
"Makar and I aren't together." I couldn't help laughing. "I didn't say yes to him."
Varlam's pupils contracted sharply.
Makar's face changed. "Briony."
The air in the room felt vacuum-sealed. Varlam looked at me, something unguarded lighting in his eyes for the first time. Not victory, not possession. Hope. It made my heart soften. It also scared me.
"But that doesn't mean I forgive you," I added.
That light stopped.
"I understand." Varlam was silent for several seconds before speaking.
"You took a bullet for me. You protected me with your life.
I know it wasn't planned, wasn't for show.
You didn't have time to calculate the cost in that moment, so I believe your feelings were real.
" My voice started shaking. "But one bullet doesn't erase everything before.
You getting hurt doesn't mean I have to forget how I got hurt. "
His gaze sank but didn't avoid mine.
"I know."
"You always say you know."
"Then what should I say?"
He wasn't like Makar, who could throw his feelings and jealousy right in my face. He was used to burying his emotions in the deepest place, buried so long even he didn't know how to show them anymore.
And right now I had no answer for this relationship either.
Love and pain tangled together—I didn't know which to deal with first.
"I'm confused," I finally said. "I want to believe you, but I'm scared to take that step. Last time I gave myself to you, you decided for me what I should know, what I should believe, whether I should stay or go."
I looked at him.
"If you want me to accept you, let me see your effort. Not throwing money at problems, not using orders to keep me close. I need to see you change."
Varlam's gaze slid from my eyes to my lips, then slowly back.
"Change what?"
"Start by not making decisions for me."
"Okay."
He answered too fast—so fast I wondered if the anesthesia was affecting his judgment.
"I'm not done."
"You can keep going. I'll agree to everything."
He reached out, palm up, stopping near my knee. He didn't grab me. Just waited.
This was probably the first change he could make.
I placed my fingertips on his palm. Just barely. Varlam's fingers closed immediately but stopped before truly gripping. That moment of restraint burned hotter than any kiss.
"I'll let you see," he said, looking down at our hands, breathing heavier.
"Don't make me regret giving you a chance."
"I won't."
"Wait." Makar finally couldn't take it anymore.
He stepped away from the wall, pointing at himself. "What about me?"
I closed my eyes.
Varlam didn't let go of my fingertips. He just looked up at his brother calmly. "What about you?"
"Don't play dumb." Makar took two steps closer. "Why does she only give you a chance?"
"Because she wants to."
"She hasn't chosen you yet."
"But she hasn't chosen you either."
Makar's face darkened.
I pulled my hand back, standing up to block their line of sight. "Can you two wait until the patient stops bleeding before you fight?"
"I'm not fighting," Varlam said.
"Shut up." I turned to Makar. "You too."
"I'm just asking for fairness." Makar stared at Varlam. "Since she hasn't chosen anyone, we compete fairly."
I looked at him, then at Varlam lying in the hospital bed. One with his chest wrapped in gauze, needing nurses to stop him from getting up. The other looking angry like someone stole his toy. I thought this was just talk.
"Whatever you want," I rubbed my temples. "Just be quiet now."
Makar raised his chin. "Deal."
Varlam narrowed his eyes. "I didn't agree."
"Scared you'll lose?"
"Scared you'll cry."
"I can make you—"
"Out." I pointed at the door. "Everyone out. Except the one in bed."
Gleb silently held the door open for Makar. Makar glared at Varlam once, then left.
I didn't understand how stupid that "whatever" was until a week later.
The flowers arrived first. Makar picked a huge bouquet of red roses, delivered straight to my door. A card tucked in the middle.
"Day one of fair competition. Would I have the honor of taking you to dinner?"
Before I could figure out how to respond, a second flower delivery stopped at my door. Not a bouquet. An entire wall of white roses, champagne roses, and gold tulips, too wide to fit in the elevator. Four delivery men had to dismantle the frame to barely get it upstairs.
The card had one sentence.
"Don't say yes to him."
I stared at that familiar sharp handwriting, temple throbbing. I called Varlam. He'd been discharged recently, doctor's orders to rest at home. When he answered, I could hear Gleb reporting in the background. Varlam said "stop," and the other end went silent immediately.
"Do you like it?"
"It's blocking the fire exit."
"You're comparing flower sizes with your own brother."
"Not comparing." His tone was maddeningly calm. "Mine's bigger."
I pinched the bridge of my nose.
A very soft cough came from Gleb's end.
"Varlam. Effort and change don't mean this."
He was silent for two seconds. "You don't like flowers?"
"You completely missed the point."
"I'm listening." His voice lowered slightly. "Still learning."
That stopped me. He was learning. Just in an expensively headache-inducing way.
The flowers were just the beginning.
A few mornings later, Makar sent a necklace and a dress suitable for an evening event. The necklace was elegant, the dress beautiful, even the size perfectly chosen.