Chapter 16
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Roman
While getting out of the car in front of my house, I call Anton and send him to guard Luna's building. Besides Niko, he's the man I trust most. I don't know who, but I'm sure someone was watching me when I left her building's stairwell. And although it could just be some pawn of a rival wanting to know my movements, I don't exclude the possibility that those eyes were there for Luna, not for me.
After giving him clear instructions about what he can and cannot do around her, I enter the house and hear Anuska, the woman who makes sure we don't die of hunger and don't get buried in dust, practically screaming at me.
"Roman, this girl is going to be the death of me!"
She moves around the kitchen island to hug me. I generally don't understand the necessity of this form of affection, but it seems to help Anuska, so I return her embrace with one arm while sitting down to hear her complain about Victoria.
My little sister is the definition of a short-fused bomb, and I wouldn't change anything about that. After being diagnosed with epilepsy, I know something in her broke, and just like with Luna, I want to see the sparkle in her eyes, not its absence.
"What has she done this time?" I ask while tasting one of the donuts she only makes for special occasions, and I try to remember if I've forgotten something, but no...I'm sure there's nothing special today.
"Again she won't come out of her room to eat. She’s got her nose in those books even though she's already skin and bones. Not an ounce of meat on the poor girl. What are boys supposed to grab onto?" she tells me in one breath.
At the mention of boys, I think she notices my expression has morphed, become frightening, because she puts her hand to her mouth and starts, "Roman, she's eighteen. She's curious. You can't keep her locked up in the house like a baby."
I know she's right, but the reality still irritates me. If it wasn't Anuska making these comments, I probably would have already pulled out my gun to shoot the responsible party.
The problem isn't that boys don't look at her. Victoria is five feet five inches tall, has my gray eyes and dark hair that falls in waves past her shoulders. She's exactly what every eighteen-year-old boy is looking for, and I've made sure they all understand how many fingers they'll lose and in how many painful ways a spleen can be removed if they look in her direction.
In my world, marriages aren't arranged without reason. You can't trust just anyone to understand what family they're joining and to assume the risks. I need someone for Victoria who I know would throw themselves in front of a bullet for her, not someone looking to check a virgin off their list before moving on to the next.
"We've talked about this, and you seem to be the only one mentioning boys. I haven't heard her ask me anything even once," I tell her and continue eating the powdered-sugar donuts.
They're literally a tastebud orgasm. I know the old bat makes them intentionally to prove to me that I still need her and not to think about sending her into retirement.
"Obviously she doesn't talk. She already knows what your answer will be. And since Niko isn't around much to talk to him, the poor thing only trusts me."
I hear the disappointment in her voice. We've been over this - Victoria needs a female role model. But I can't be everything at once: mother, father, brother, and therapist all rolled into one. I love her more than anything, she's the only person I'm sure about loving, but even I have limits.
“I'll talk to her,” I grumble, wanting nothing more than sleep.
It's been one hell of a day and I'm running on empty. Right then my phone cuts through the silence - Anton's name lighting up the screen. I leave Anuska in the kitchen and head upstairs toward Victoria's bedroom before answering my phone.
“What is it?” I snap, knowing he wouldn't call this late unless something's wrong.
“Another explosion. South warehouse this time.”
I can practically see his face - ready to murder someone. He's watching Luna's apartment right now, but those warehouses are his duty, and this makes three explosions in six months.
"Devin?" I ask though I already know the answer.
"Guaranteed, they caught one of his soldiers trying to flee right when it happened. They're taking him to the basement to see if he feels like talking. Roman, we need to do something!"
I know what that something means.
Even Niko told me we can't postpone the war with the Irish mafia forever. It's a game of who will destroy the next shipment or warehouse, and we can't continue like this long- term. Something has changed lately. They seem to have more nerve than usual, and clearly that's because of the Russians who are financing them.
Damien is just as agitated. A war on the streets isn't something we want, even if we're not anti-violence. A war means losses. Losses of men and time.
We need to act, but that damn weasel Devin doesn't show his face in public. Always stays buried in one of his clubs. And the clearest way to get rid of a snake is to cut off its head.
"Tell Lev I need him to find Devin. YESTERDAY!"
With that I hang up, trying to calm myself. I take a deep breath and knock on the door through which I hear soft piano music. Victoria's voice comes from beyond the door, and I enter to find my little sister sprawled across what I think must be a hundred pillows, with an open book and a frowning look. Again, she'll stay up all night reading to find out what happens.
"Don't I deserve even a hug?" I ask her while leaning against the wall in her room and crossing my arms over my chest.
Finally, she looks up from the pages and laughs.
“Stop begging for attention, Ro,” she says, launching herself into my arms.
An 'oof' escapes me as she knocks the wind out of me with her bear hug. She's the only one I seek hugs from - everyone else's attempts feel pointless and empty.
Ironic how a few hours ago I was planning knife techniques on some guy's skin, and now all I want is to hold my baby sister. But it's always been this way with Vi. Maybe because I know how our parents treated her, how they ignored and isolated her. Sure, Niko could survive this house like I did, but Vi was different. She was our weak spot, and keeping her safe and happy became my life's mission.
But she's not the only one anymore, is she?
“Let me guess - I'll starve to death and never catch a boy's eye again?” she laughs, knowing exactly how Anuska's dramatic warnings go.
“Well, looking at you right now, she might have a point,” I tease, spinning her around for a mock inspection.
She's drowning in oversize bear cub pajamas and these ridiculous, fluffy white socks that make her look about forty pounds heavier than she actually is.
“She made donuts again to torture me! At this rate you'll need to buy me a whole new wardrobe because today I BARELY GOT MY JEANS TO BUTTON, RO!” she shrieks at the end, making me flinch.
“Ah, so donuts are Anuska’s evil plan,” I say, watching her settle back on the bed with her book. “What's this one about?” I couldn’t care less about these stories, but I know they kept her going during those hospital stays after she was first diagnosed.
“It's about this dragon riders' academy and these two characters who are supposed to be enemies, but God, Ro, I want a love story like that,” she gushes.
I watch the sparkle in her eyes. Hell, I'd buy every book ever written just to keep that hope alive in her face.
“Well, maybe not enemies, but we could negotiate. Heard Luca's got a son coming of age soon,” I tease.
Her glare could melt steel. Those light blue eyes, almost gray like mine, burn at the mention of Federico, the Italian mob boss's son. They've run in the same circles despite the five-year age gap, but somehow there's always been bad blood. Even though we're playing nice with the Italians. For now.
“Don't even joke about that, Ro. I swear I'll stab him with my nail scissors.”
I leave laughing because I can actually imagine her doing that, and I realize I'm worrying about Victoria for nothing. It's clear that the poor man who becomes her husband will wonder what sins he committed to be punished by heaven with such a tornado of madness in bear pajamas.
"Don't stay up too late, Vi."
She nods and returns to her book, and I go to bed. A few hours of peace where nothing explodes, nobody needs me, and most importantly, a few hours of green eyes and hair like the finest caramel to haunt my thoughts.