Chapter 32
ANYA
It’s hard for me to believe Semyon and Eli are here together, chatting over shots of vodka and not beating the shit out of each other. Semyon holds the upper hand though. It’s his home, and he’s got me.
Eli’s got more color on his cheeks now under Zoya’s good cooking, but he’s still a bit gaunt, his eyes haunted.
“So this is it,” he says, shaking his head and looking around the room. At first, I think he’s talking about the obvious display of wealth and power in the clean lines of steel and glass and surveillance equipment. The monitors on the far-right wall are at rest for now, but only for privacy. A flick of Semyon’s finger on the keyboard, and they’ll all spring to life. Eli is observant. He knows.
“Your home,” he finishes, his eyes on me. “And you live here, Anya? Stefan too?”
Stefan is peacefully asleep, oblivious to all that’s happened. We haven’t shown him Eli yet.
Semyon bristles beside me, but I think before I speak. If I could go back and tell little Anya that she’d be married to Semyon Kopolov, that she’d be wearing his ring and sharing a bed, and that he was every bit as devoted as she dreamed about—she’d want to pinch herself.
“Of course I’m living here, Eli. I vowed that I would.”
Semyon laces his fingers through mine and tugs me a little closer before he turns to me. “Is that what’s keeping you here, Anya?” He’s calm as always, but I know him well enough by now to know when he’s afraid. He gets this tiny, almost imperceptible twitch next to his lips, and he goes even stiller than usual, his body rigid. Assessing.
I nod slowly. “I would never back down on a vow,” I say, but I’m teasing him. I’m trying to come up with the right words to tell him how I really feel.
I’m safe with you.
Stefan is safe with you.
We have a future together because we were born for each other.
I love you.
But before I can speak my mind, Eli clears his throat. “It was meant to be,” he finally admits with a sigh. “Though you know she blames you for Mom’s death, don’t you?”
The air in the room goes still. Semyon turns to Eli. “Maybe it’s time you tell her everything. ”
Eli takes another slow sip of his vodka before he finally nods. I’m not breathing. My breath feels constricted and tight. I’ve hated myself for wanting Semyon, for being so weak that no amount of logic could rid me of the ache. Of needing him to want me back.
“Anya, I let you believe Semyon was the enemy,” Eli says, his voice pained. I watch the blunt tip of his finger trace the edge of his shot glass. “It was easier that way. It seemed you were better off having a target, someone to blame for what happened to us.”
In the darkened room lit by moonlight, Eli looks like my mother. He has her cheekbones, the slant of her elegant neck. I swallow the lump in my throat. It only rises again.
Do I want to hear what he has to tell me? The weight of Semyon’s rough, warm hand settles on the back of my neck. I can breathe again.
“She begged him,” I whisper. “Begged him not to let you get involved.”
Eli shakes his head sadly. “It was too late at that point. Our family was in debt thanks to Dad’s gambling. He pissed away everything we had, and I tried to stop him. Turning to the Bratva seemed my only choice.”
Semyon’s fingers tighten. I lean my head on his shoulder.
“Semyon tried to talk me out of this daily. He knew who we were dealing with. He knew how easily things could go sideways.” Eli shakes his head. “It wasn’t Semyon’s fault, Anya. He tried to save her the day she died.”
I close my eyes. A hot, fat tear rolls down my cheek .
“Why didn’t you tell me the whole story earlier, Semyon?”
“You wouldn’t have believed me.”
He’s right. There’s no way I would have. Eli is right, too. It was easier to blame Semyon. I already felt like he’d abandoned me when my family began to unravel and his began to grow in strength and number.
“The day she died,” Eli continues, his voice cracking and his eyes glimmering, “Dad was drowning in debt, and I was trying to hold it all together, selling my soul to whoever would pay the most. She blamed Semyon. She begged him to rescue me, and then—her heart gave out. Semyon and I were there. Semyon called the paramedics—he called in everyone he knew—but it was too late.”
I was coming home from the bakery when I heard her pleading, her voice rising and falling between the others. By the time I reached the upstairs landing, Semyon shoved past me, his expression unreadable. Eli was holding her—she’d collapsed. I screamed for Semyon, but when he didn’t come, I knew he’d run. He was fleeing. And Eli… he lied, telling me what he thought I needed to hear.
My heart aches.
“I didn’t want you ruined like I was,” Eli says, his voice breaking. “I lied to keep you away from him .”
He’d seen us that day in the shed. He’d seen the way I stared at Semyon. He knew.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t save her,” Semyon says quietly, his voice raw, stripped of its usual steel and ice. “I promise, Anya, I tried. ”
Semyon doesn’t look away or even flinch but lets me see him as he truly is—loyal and devoted, holding onto quiet regret he’s carried for years. Willing to be the scapegoat.
For years, I’ve imagined this differently—maybe I’d scream and rail against him, throwing things or even fists, demanding justice for the mother I lost. But now I feel… hollow. And past that well of sadness… a little hopeful.
Semyon’s voice is softer this time. Unraveling. “I used to think needing someone made you weak,” he admits. “That love was a liability, that it would make you concede control.” He huffs out a laugh. “I was right, in part.”
“About what?” I whisper. I need to know.
“That love makes you lose control. I’d give anything for you, Anya. I’d do anything for you. The thought of losing you—I’d carve my own heart out, then go back to life without you. Without us. And I’ll do anything to prove that to you.”
I stifle a sniffle. Semyon bared open and pleading hits me harder than I could’ve prepared for.
“I don’t love you the way you deserve,” he whispers. “But I swear to god, I’m going to wake up every day and try over and over again until I’ve got it right… until there’s not a doubt in your mind… until you know ?—”
I fall into him, holding onto the only thing that has ever made sense to me. It feels right and natural and so damn perfect when his arms encircle me, and he holds me tight.
“I love you, Semyon. I’ve always loved you, and sometimes I hated that I did, but I still do.”
“And I love you. ”
When he holds me tighter against him, I wonder if he’s the one who fears being left like I always have.
I tilt my head up to meet his eyes. “We’re going to put this in the past with everything else that happened. Thank you for telling me the truth.”
His fingers find mine.
“God,” Eli says with a hoarse laugh. “You guys are going to really rub it in, aren’t you?”
I grab Semyon’s shirt and fist it in my hand, yank him to me, and kiss him—hard, unrelenting.
“Answer enough,” Eli says, cursing under his breath. “You two get a room. Oh, wait. You have a whole house. Guess that’s my cue to go to bed.”
I bury my head on Semyon’s chest. I don’t want to be apart from him, even for a second.
“I’ve got your stuff in Stefan’s room,” Semyon says. He tells Eli how to get there. I’m amused—he wants both of my brothers under close supervision.
The house is quiet as Semyon and I sit alone. The monitors buzz, waiting for a command. I lay my head on his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.
I feel… lighter.
He smells of vodka and woodsmoke.
“Thank you,” I whisper. I want to go on, to elaborate, but my throat feels tight.
“For what? ”
“For trying to help her. For forgiving Eli. For… marrying me.”
Semyon chuckles. It’s happening more often now, but it still never fails to make my heart swell from the sound of it. “If you think you’re the only one who benefits from this scenario, little Anya…” When he tips his finger under my chin, I look up at him.
“Thank you ,” he says before he gives me a brief, chaste kiss.
I smile at him and echo his question. “For what?”
With a sigh I feel deep in my bones, he shakes his head. “For teaching me that I’m actually capable of loving someone. For forgiving me. For loving me.”
I thread my fingers through his. Our heartbeats sync.
“Are we still at risk?” I ask. I can still hear the man’s words in the bakery.
“Always.”
“And Zoya?—”
“Will be protected.” He says it with an air of finality, and I wonder if he isn’t in a little bit of denial over that. But I know how loyal he is. He’ll do everything to protect his sisters.
“And Eli?”
“Has paid his debt.”
I don’t ask any more questions. Sometimes, it’s better not to have all the answers.
“Let’s go to bed, love. ”
I go to stand, but he surprises me by sweeping me up in his arms.
“I can walk, Semyon. You don’t have to?—”
“Carry my wife to bed?” he says in that voice that makes my body instantly warm. “I do. I need to conserve your energy.”
My head falls to his shoulder. I close my eyes and let it go. Everything. I let him carry me. Let him bring me upstairs and lay me down, strip me of my clothes, then make me climax until my toes curl, and I can’t breathe. Let him claim me. Let him fall asleep beside me in a tangle of limbs and slow breathing until the morning brings a new day.