Chapter 28
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
“Mother.
One single word that has such a deep meaning.
For some, it’s associated with happiness, acceptance, love.
For others, it’s pain, suffering, isolation.
No matter our feelings, though…when we lose them, we grieve them all the same.
And that’s the kind of wound that doesn’t heal with time.
Instead, it becomes something you learn to live with.”
Levi
Levi
I park by the gates, exhaling heavily and leaning in my seat while gazing into the distance, when a soft hand touches mine on the steering wheel.
“Are you okay?” Lavender asks, her sweet scent calming the inferno awakening in my heart and threading my fingers in her hair, I drag her closer to me. “I can go with you.”
Pressing my lips against her forehead, I murmur, “I’m good.
Don’t worry.” I cup her cheek, rubbing my thumb over her skin and hating seeing the stupid cast on her leg.
I despise any reminder of him hurting my woman.
“Stay here. I won’t be long.” Giving her a soft kiss on the mouth, I open the door and get out, allowing for the light breeze to wash over me as the sun shines brightly on me.
I walk toward the gate and enter the cemetery. Countless headstones greet me, covered in flowers, creating a beautiful and depressing picture. A sense of loss and grief fills the air, casting shadows all around me.
I head toward a farther corner, closer to the massive oak tree where my mother’s headstone lies, covered with orchids and lilies.
They used to be her favorite flowers.
Her stone is gated with a small bench in front of it.
Dad promised to bury her right, and he did, giving her the grave she deserved and somewhere I could always visit. Uncle Arson practically ripped her away from me and told me to go to Lavender and they’d handle it.
To them, no matter what I do, I’ll always be a child they swore to protect.
“Zdrastvui, Mama,” I say hello to her, coming closer and dusting off the stone.
“Ya prishel.” I tell her that I came to her and stand still, pondering on the words while an onslaught of emotions hit me from every corner, not letting me focus on any of them or rest. The utter chaos within me for the first time cannot be controlled, and I struggle for breath.
“I’m sorry it took me so long to find you.
I miss you, Mama. I missed you so much every day.
” I swallow and sit on the bench, resting my elbows on my knees while staring at her grave.
Just a name.
Anastasia.
“I escaped that hell, Mama. I survived for both of us and tried my best to become a man you’d be proud of.
A man who would have saved you. I did everything I could to live up to the name and your sacrifice.
” Another gust of wind caresses my skin, like the softest of touches, and increases the pressure on my chest. Why is this so difficult?
I withstood some horrendous things in life, yet facing my mom’s grave transforms me once again into a six-year-old who watched her die.
As if her soul is really here and could listen to me.
“I have family who loves me, a woman who adores me, and everything this life has to offer is within my reach. Because you protected me from him and taught me all the things that mattered in our short time together.” My fists clench, and I take deep breaths to control my rapidly beating heart.
“I couldn’t find your brother Lev. I think he was a mirage, someone you wanted to believe would come and save us both. ”
If a powerful mafia man had lost his sister, I would have known him, but there was no one with that name.
I spoke with Aunt Phoenix about it yesterday, and she explained that sometimes, when people are put into unbearable situations, the psyche tries to protect its sanity and creates another reality.
The delusion helps to cope with their horrible circumstances and keeps them going, and I think that’s what Lev was.
Mama waited for a savior, needing to believe there was at least some hope, but instead she birthed a man who would be such a savior to others.
If only I could save my mom, though.
My heart contracts even more. Placing my hand on my heart, I whisper, “Spasibo, Mama.” My mother was ripped away from the life she knew, whatever that might be, only to end up in hell.
She didn’t have to love or accept me, but she did.
My mother did everything she could to give me the best chance, and she filled my heart with love, curiosity, and knowledge as much as she could so I’d never be like him.
His blood might run through my veins, but I’ll always dedicate my life to extinguishing men like him, and if that makes me a monster in the eyes of the world, so be it.
“Ya lublyu tebya,” I whisper and try to put a lid on the emotions threatening to open all the old wounds that shouldn’t have a presence in my life. “I’m sorry you didn’t live long enough to see justice, but it was served in your name. You can rest in peace now.”
That’s when I feel another presence, and I freeze when I see my mom, the one who raised me, sit next to me, and her scent envelops me, the one I always associated with acceptance and safety.
A woman who welcomed me into her family with open arms right away. Who withstood my nightmares, silent treatments, and my hysterics.
A woman who never made me feel unwanted, only deeply loved.
A woman who became my mom.
“Mom,” I say, an odd sense of guilt filling me that maybe she might take it the wrong way.
I’m not sure how to explain my emotions to her, but I don’t want her to think I love her any less.
One of the reasons I asked Dad not to tell her anything about it.
I should have known better, though. They don’t have secrets from each other. “I—”
“I thought I’d come here to thank your mom for raising such a strong boy who survived long enough for us to find him.
” I swallow. The pressure inside me builds, and fuck, it’s so hard to put that lid on all these feelings advancing on me like an inevitable tsunami.
“Who filled his heart with love and kindness. A strong woman, and she gave that strength to her son.” She looks at the stone.
“Thank you, Anastasia. I hope you know your son is deeply loved, and he wouldn’t be here without you.
” She looks at me again and cups my cheek, the softness in her gaze breaking all my walls, and my eyes fill with tears for the first time in forever.
“No matter what happens, Levi. You’re your mother’s son and ours.
Nothing else matters. I would never want another son, and it’s an honor to share such privilege with your mama. ”
At this moment, I understand that Dad told her everything, and she accepts even the darkest parts of me. I was afraid she wouldn’t.
I couldn’t fathom losing another mom.
I wrap my arms around her. “I love you, Mom.”
She hugs me tighter, threading her fingers through my hair, and whispers like she did in my childhood, “Let go, Levi. Let go.”
And I allow myself something I haven’t ever done before.
I let the six-year-old boy in me finally cry for a mother he had in the arms of a mother who raised him.
As tragic as it is, there is also beauty in it.
Because I was so lucky to have two mothers who loved me when some don’t even get one.
So I let myself grieve in their presence and heal the broken parts of me.
For a second, I think I hear Mama’s voice in my ear, whispering, “Bud schastliv, moy lvenochek.”
Be happy, my little lion.
And that’s what I intend to do.
Lev
I stand on the hill and watch Levi and Valencia near Anastasia’s grave when my phone rings.
I raise it to my ear. “Is he my grandson?” the Pakhan asks right away, his voice harsh and demanding.
He’s been searching for him ever since Jonathan sent us photos of Levi and Anastasia, gloating in his letters about how he stole the mafia princess and we will never find her.
The Pakhan destroyed countless organizations, enemies, and searched the world for his only daughter and still failed to find her. And since Jonathan never showed his face, we couldn’t figure out who took her.
My hold on the phone tightens just thinking about the fucker, and I wish I could get my hands on him and kill him.
But that’s not my right. That’s Levi’s right, and he made his decision that I have to respect.
“No.”
Pakhan coughs, letting me know the illness he tries to hide from everyone has been progressing way too fast. “Where the fuck is my grandson, then?”
“I’ve been telling you for years. The boy is dead.” The lies slip easily from me, my voice monotone and detached so he won’t hear even a hint of hesitation.
Because the truth would set our world on fire.
The Boston Bratva is powerful, wealthy, and ruthless. And while we are strong enough to go against Lachlan, we would never win this war, and we’d end up just weakening one another.
He won’t ever let anyone take his son away.
I won’t ever allow anyone to jeopardize the Bratva’s future.
The dying Pakhan included.
So we have a silent understanding with Lachlan. As long as we stay away from one another, we keep each other’s secrets.
Although he wasn’t so keen on keeping one particular secret from his son, I explained why we have to wait a few more years.
Patience is the greatest weapon one might have in this world.
“I do not have time.”
Yes. Each day, he becomes weaker, so he has to pass the torch before the vultures sense his weakness and try to challenge him for leadership. And according to the rules, it needs to be the male heir, and he has none.
Not for his lack of trying over the years.
If we are not careful enough, his half-brother would take the reins, and then we’ll be fucked.
“I have no other answer for you, Pakhan. Tvoy vnuk mertv.” I repeat once again that his grandson is dead, and for a second, he stops breathing.
He’s one of the cruelest and coldest men I know, but the idea of his blood suffering and dying pains him.
If Pakhan has one good quality, it is protecting those who are entrusted to him. Otherwise, I would have killed him a long time ago.
Because he might be the head of the Bratva, but I’m its neck, and the head moves where the neck fucking wants.
He’s the facade while I’m the true power.
“Then there is no other choice. I’ll name you my heir. You know what that means. Make sure she understands it too.”
He hangs up as I walk to my car, where Oleg already holds it open for me, and he glances at Levi, murmuring, “He would’ve been a great Pakhan.”
“Yes. Except he’d kill us all.”
Oleg laughs. “True.”
Once inside, I open my laptop, log in with my password, then press the live video. I see a blonde girl with the bluest eyes, wearing a black ballet leotard with jeans. While her ballet teacher smokes nervously near her.
She’s standing barefoot in the middle of the wide garden, quickly gathering her hair into a ponytail, an action that reminds me so much of her mother.
Anastasia adored ballet, and I was the only friend she was allowed to have in her life.
Because I was three years younger than her. It was she who named me Lev after her older brother was brutally killed. She could never accept the loss and created this new reality in her head where her brother lived while her parents died.
No one called me this name besides her, and that’s why Levi could never find me.
He was chasing a ghost.
“Miss Zencova, please. We need to rehearse for our show next week.”
Instead of listening to her teacher, she goes to the butler, who is holding a tray, and grabs a gun from it, making the teacher jump. “Miss Zencova!”
“Irina, we both know I suck at ballet, and the only reason I’m part of the show is because Dedushka insisted. I hate this shit.”
She points her gun at the target far away and shoots, reaching the bull’s-eye right away, and her butler claps.
“Fuck,” the teacher mutters, and accepts the wine from the butler, finishing it in one gulp.
The girl picks up a rifle next, and checks it out before moving to another target and shooting once again, a smile stretching her mouth when the target falls to the ground.
“Miss Zencova, please think about me,” Irina pleads. “I don’t need trouble with the Bratva.”
“Aren’t you my grandpa’s latest mistress? He doesn’t kill his fuck buddies.” She grabs one more gun and quickly loads it with bullets before firing it at the next target. Sadly, it misses the mark, and she huffs.
“Miss Zencova!”
Zoya grabs her cell from the tray, and in a second, my own phone rings. “Yes?”
“Since I’m sure you’re watching me right now, can you get rid of her? Her annoying whining makes me miss my targets. I don’t like it.”
Once upon a time, by sheer accident, I saved the girl from Jonathan and convinced the fucker she died.
She might look like her mother, but her character…that, she clearly got from her older brother.
A devil in disguise who wears a mask of an angel, that’s who she is.
“It can be arranged.”
“Splendid.”
“As long as you remember that it will put an end to our lessons.”
I’ve taught her how to fight and use all kinds of weapons. I've convinced Pakhan to send her to the best private school abroad so she can learn and hopefully join a good university.
In exchange, she keeps her perfect image, continues to dance ballet, and stays out of trouble, never showing her knowledge to anyone. Her classmates included since a lot of them belong to our world.
Pakhan is convinced she’d be the ideal wife to someone one day and form great alliances for the Bratva, because that’s what women do, according to him. Marry and bear offspring to make the Bratva prosper.
I have no fucking intention of marrying her off to the highest bidder.
“Fine. I’ll do the stupid show. Can’t wait for this to be over. Will you be back in Boston before I need to go?”
“Yes.”
“Great. See you then.”
Ending the call and closing the laptop, I meet Oleg’s gaze in the rearview mirror, and a similar rage flashes in his eyes that probably matches mine. “I will find a solution.”
Zoya won’t be collateral damage in this world of ours.
And if worse comes to worst and they try to force my hand?
I can always call her older brother.
I’m sure he’d be happy to discover his sister is alive and well.
For now, though?
It’s my duty to protect her, and I will do that till my last breath.
I owe it to Anastasia.
Her daughter will never suffer at the hands of any man, myself included.
That’s a word I intend to keep.