Chapter 24 Aleksandr
ALEKSANDR
When I push back through the door after checking the generator, stamping snow from my boots, the temperature in the cabin feels ten degrees colder than when I left.
Maya stands frozen by the kitchen counter, her face drained of color. Both hands grip the edge, knuckles white, fingers trembling. Danil leans against the opposite counter, arms crossed, watching her with an expression I can't quite read.
The air between them crackles with something I don't understand. Something that makes my instincts flare hot and sharp.
"What happened?" My voice comes out harder than I intend.
"Nothing." Maya's smile is too bright, too forced. "Danil just startled me. I didn't hear him come into the kitchen."
I look at Danil, and he shrugs, his expression shifting to something apologetic. Too smooth. Too practiced. "My fault. I move too quietly sometimes. Old habits."
The explanation is reasonable. But Maya's hands are still shaking, and there's something in her eyes that looks like fear. Real fear.
I cross to her in three strides, my hand finding the small of her back. Even through her sweater, I can feel the tension radiating through her body. "You okay?"
"Fine." She leans into my touch. "Just jumpy. The storm makes me nervous."
But I've seen Maya handle storms before. She doesn't spook easily.
Danil moves toward the living room. "I should probably call in. Let people know I found you."
"No." The word comes out sharp, commanding. "Not yet."
"Alek…" He catches himself. "Sasha. People are worried. They need to know you're alive."
"And they will. When I'm ready." I keep my arm around Maya, feeling the rapid beat of her heart against my side. "Right now, I need time to figure out who I can trust."
Something flickers across Danil's face. Hurt, maybe. Or understanding. He nods slowly, then moves to the window, staring out at the swirling snow. The silence stretches, broken only by the crackle of the fire and the howl of the wind outside.
A memory hits without warning.
We're in a boardroom with a mahogany table, leather chairs, and the smell of expensive cigars. I'm at the head of the table, and Danil sits to my right. Someone questions my decision about territory expansion.
Before I can respond, Danil leans forward. The movement is casual, but every man in the room goes still.
"The Pakhan has spoken," he says, his voice quiet but carrying absolute authority. "Unless you'd like to explain to him why you think you know better?"
The man who questioned me goes pale. The meeting continues without further interruption.
Later, in the car, I turn to Danil. "You didn't have to do that."
"Yes, I did." He keeps his eyes on the road. "You're the boss, but sometimes, people need reminding. That's my job."
"Your job is Sovietnik, not attack dog."
He grins. "I can be both."
I blink, and I'm back in the cabin. Danil is still at the window, and Maya is curled against my side, her body finally starting to relax. The scent of her shampoo drifts up, and I inhale the familiar and comforting scent.
"I remember something," I say quietly. "A meeting. You backed me up when someone questioned my authority."
Danil turns, and there's warmth in his dark eyes. "I've done that more times than I can count. You're brilliant, but you're also young for a Pakhan. Some of the old guard needed convincing."
"How did I become Pakhan?" The question has been nagging at me since he arrived. Maya stiffens at my side.
He moves back toward the fire, settling into the armchair. "You became Pakhan because you were smarter and more ruthless than anyone else. You saw opportunities others missed. Made alliances that seemed impossible. And when necessary…" He pauses. "You eliminated obstacles."
Maya stiffens even more beside me as she sucks in a sharp breath. I tighten my arm around her shoulders.
"Eliminated." I let the word hang in the air. "That's a polite way of saying I killed people."
"When necessary," Danil repeats. "You weren't a monster, Alek. You had rules. Lines you wouldn't cross."
"What kind of lines?"
"No kids. No civilians who weren't involved in the business. No unnecessary violence." He leans back, the firelight casting shadows across his face. "You were ruthless, but you weren't cruel. There's a difference."
Another memory surfaces, sharper this time.
A man kneeling in a warehouse. Concrete floor, the smell of oil and rust. His hands are bound behind his back, his face bruised. Danil stands beside me, gun in hand, waiting for my decision.
"He stole from us," Danil says. His voice is flat.
I study the man, noting the fear in his eyes. "Does he have family?"
"Wife. Two kids."
I'm quiet for a long moment. "Break his hands. Send him home as a warning. But make sure his family is taken care of. The wife gets a job in one of our legitimate businesses. The kids' school is paid for."
Danil nods. "Mercy and message. Smart."
"Not mercy." I turn away. "Investment. His family will remember who provided for them when he couldn't. Loyalty bought is sometimes stronger than loyalty earned."
The memory fades, leaving a bitter taste in my mouth. I wasn't being kind. I was being strategic.
"You're remembering," Danil observes. "I can see it on your face."
"Fragments. Nothing complete." I look at Maya, at the way her eyes watch me with concern and something that might be fear.
"I'm tired," Maya says quietly. "I think I'll go to bed early."
"I'll come with you." I start to stand, but she puts a hand on my chest, stopping me. Her palm is warm through my shirt.
"Stay. Talk to Danil. You two have a lot to catch up on." Her smile doesn't reach her eyes. "I'll be fine."
She disappears into the bedroom before I can argue, and suddenly, it's just Danil and me, the fire crackling between us.
He moves to the kitchen and returns with a bottle of vodka and two glasses. "Figured we could use this."
He pours two generous shots and hands me one. "To old friends and new beginnings."
We drink in silence, the vodka burning down my throat. It tastes familiar, expensive. Smooth as silk with a kick like a mule.
"So," Danil says, refilling our glasses. "You and Maya. That's serious?"
"What makes you think that?"
"The way you look at her. Like she's the only thing in the room that matters." He takes another drink. "I've never seen you look at anyone like that."
"Maybe I'm different now."
"Maybe." He studies me over the rim of his glass. "Or maybe you're finally letting yourself feel something besides ambition and control."
I don't answer, just stare into the fire. The flames dance and shift, hypnotic.
"Remember that time in Prague?" Danil asks suddenly. "You got so drunk you tried to convince me we should buy a castle."
A flicker of something. Not quite a memory, but close. "Did we?"
"Buy the castle? No. But you did buy a very expensive bottle of wine and then couldn't remember where you put it." He laughs, the sound genuine. "Found it three days later in the hotel safe. You'd locked it up for safekeeping and forgotten the combination."
"Was it at least good wine?"
"It was vinegar by the time we opened it." He shakes his head. "We ended up pouring it down the sink and ordering room service champagne instead."
"Sounds like I was a real genius."
"You had your moments." He takes another drink, his expression growing more thoughtful. "But you were also the smartest man I knew. Still are, probably. Even without your memories."
The compliment sits uncomfortably. I shift in my seat, the leather creaking. "Smart enough to get myself shot and dumped in the woods."
"That wasn't about intelligence. That was about trust." His voice goes hard. "Someone close to you betrayed you. Someone you never suspected."
"Do you know who?"
"I have theories." He won't meet my eyes. "But no proof. Not yet."
The fire pops, sending sparks dancing up the chimney. Outside, the wind rattles the windows.
"This life here," I say slowly, gesturing around the cabin. "With Maya. It feels right. More right than anything in those memories."
"That's because it's simple. Uncomplicated." Danil leans forward, elbows on his knees. His shoulders are broad enough to block out half the firelight. "But simple doesn't last. Not for men like us."
"Maybe I'm not that man anymore."
"You'll always be that man. It's in your blood. In your bones." He refills both our glasses, the vodka glugging out in generous pours. "You can hide from it for a while, but eventually, it catches up."
"Is that a threat?"
"It's a fact." His dark eyes are serious now, all traces of humor gone. "And speaking of facts, there's something you need to know."
The shift in his tone makes my spine straighten. The easy camaraderie of moments ago evaporates like steam. "What?"
He's quiet for a long moment, swirling the vodka in his glass, watching the liquid catch the firelight. When he finally speaks, his voice is low and careful. "You need to be careful about Maya. She's not what she seems."