“I’ll give you this,” I say slowly. “You don’t sound like a cutthroat chasing my chair today.”
“Maybe I’m tired of chasing,” he answers, voice quieter. “Maybe I’m tired of watching cousins die.”
For a moment, I allow myself to believe him.
“I’ll see you later,” I mutter and hang up.
The gray city slides past the window. For the first time in weeks, something almost like hope stirs in my chest.
But the hope is fragile, and I know better than to let it carry me too far. Mikhael might sound like family again, but I can’t ignore the possibility that he’s only playing at loyalty while feeding scraps of information to Anatoli. If someone set us up at that restaurant, it had to be someone close. Someone with access.
I rub my temple. There’s a small scar there, just along the hairline. Whenever I feel like this, I touch it to remind myself of who I am. Who I was raised to be.
I didn’t get it in a particularly badass way. When I was younger, I stood too quickly at the gym and banged my head on a piece of equipment I hadn’t seen. Got a nasty cut out of it. I wasn’t used to pain yet, and it felt fucking blinding.
But my father made me keep working through the pain. Told me trust was earned in blood, and that blood never stoppedbeing tested. To this day, I still remember how bad it hurt to keep doing reps with blood in my eyes.
At least the shipment is handled. That buys me some breathing room with the Italians, and I’ll take it.
But one victory doesn’t erase the war looming overhead. Anatoli’s bold enough to have men inside Boris’s own walls, bold enough to take shots at me and mine in broad daylight. That kind of confidence doesn’t fade with one dead gunman. If anything, he’ll push harder.
And when he does, I’ll have to push back twice as hard.
For Sima’s sake, too.
Sima.She’s in class now, according to Luka’s hourly updates. I left early this morning—didn’t want to wake her. Didn’t want to break the spell hovering over us since last night.
She said she doesn’t want to run anymore. That she wants me. Wants to stay with me, be a family for real.
It’s an odd feeling. Before, I never pictured myself as a family man. Wives and children are a distraction at best, a walking weak spot at worst. Not the kind of thing apakhancan afford to care about.
But now I care. It happened on its own, without my permission. A first in my life since I inherited the throne.
And yet, I don’t want it to go back to the way it was. I don’t want deals or contracts.
I want her.
And I’ll do my damnedest to protect her. Come what fucking may.
With those thoughts crowding my brain, I park my car in front of the hospital and stride in.
Time to tell my brother he’s going to be an uncle.
54
SIMA
I walk into class riding two very different waves.
The baby in my belly? A bundle of joy. Pure, utter happiness.
A thousand butterflies fill my chest every time I remember that I’m pregnant. Me—pregnant. If the Sima from a couple of years ago had gotten those two pink lines on her pregnancy test, she would have spent the night counting pennies. Trying desperately to make ends meet to accommodate for the new life inside her.
The Sima from today, though?
Happy as a freaking clam.
It’s amazing how much anxiety goes out the window once you take financial insecurity out of the mix. Money may not be able to buy happiness, but it sure goes a long way towards emotional stability.
