Something about the fact that Mikhail left this, instead of trying to bribe me with jewelry or clothes, stirs some long-dead emotion in my chest.
Like he doesn’t just want me to stop being angry, but wants me to be healthy and taken care of, too.
I just want you safe.The words he said in the school parking lot echo back to me.
I didn’t quite believe them then. I guess I still don’t trust him completely, but my reasonable side does nothing to override the butterflies that resurrect when I remember stuff like that.
Some fucked up part of me always assumed I wasn’t someone important enough to fight for. Seeing Mikhail continue to show up, expecting me to give him nothing in return—it’s baffling to watch.
I click off my phone, gazing out the kitchen window at the stormy sunset, orange hues slicing strips across the puddles on the damp street. The lonely, black SUV sits parked on the edge, wheels buried in a growing ditch of rainwater along the gutter.
Without overthinking it, I start brewing a fresh pot of coffee, pouring it into a disposable cup, and putting on my boots. I wrap myself in a hooded rain jacket and lock the door, trekking towards the dark, sleek vehicle.
The window rolls down before I even knock this time, revealing the same golden hair and stoic expression from before.
“Is everything alright, Miss Donahue?”
I hold the cup of steaming coffee up to the window, offering it to the man. Ivan, I think he said his name was.
He looks carefully between the cup and me, before his eyes cut up to the rain battering down against my hood.
“Would you like to come inside?” he says gently, motioning to the empty passenger seat.
I shoot him an assessing look, considering the offer. The dude follows me everywhere. If he wanted to kill me, he probably would’ve done it a week ago. Right?
Coming to a decision, I round the front of the car and peel off my wet jacket before opening the passenger door and climbing into the seat. Ivan presses a button, causing the back cushion of the seat to begin heating, warming my chilled skin.
There’s an uncomfortable beat of silence, neither of us sure what to say to the other.
Ivan takes a sip of the coffee, and the scent of the beans seeps into the enclosed space in thick, spiced wafts.
“I’m sorry,” he says suddenly, snapping my attention to his downcast face.
“What?”
“I sincerely apologize for how you were treated that night.” The words have my spine straightening like a rod. “I know it doesn’t necessarily help, but we truly believed you came into his life to hurt him. The planted evidence was... convincing.”
He says the last part quietly, staring off at the rhythmic swipe of the windshield wipers.
“What was the evidence?” I ask.
For a moment, I think he’ll zip his lips shut, blow me off just as Mikhail always had before.
“Our enemies did their research on you, learned certain facts to look credible. They claimed they had offered you a significant sum to get close to Mikhail and leak shipment locations. They even provided specific details about Mikhail. It seems someone has learned our shipping route and storage locations, and they’re using the information to slowly but surely decimate our business. We’ve been searching for the rat for nearly a month, and then there you were. Exactly how they described. We were easily fooled.”
He shakes his head, taking another sip of coffee.
I have no idea what to say to that, struggling to process the information he’s provided me.So that’s what they thought I stole. Why they thought I got close to Mikhail.
“Who are your enemies?” I think to ask, crossing my fingers, he’s not done with the whole sharing thing.
“The Italian Mafia.”
“Is that what your organization is? A Mafia?”
He tilts his head a bit. “Sort of, yes. Ours is Russian, so we’re called a Bratva. Mikhail is our Pakhan, our leader. It is a tough position to hold.”
I fold the words carefully over in my head. I don’t know shit about Mafias or Bratvas in real life, but the versions I’ve seen in movies somewhat match up to the mysterious “organization” Mikhail has told me a bit about. A false front of legal businesses, like Empire, and that restaurant he took me to, dangerous enemies, and stressful shootouts.Like the night we met.
