Mikki nods. “And as you knew, news of his death kicked up a bit of dust among the troops. Maintaining loyalty was tricky those weeks you were gone.”
I take a final sip from my glass, mulling that over. “If I were in Nikolai’s shoes and I was looking to either take over or wipe out a Bratva, that would have been the time to strike. An attack during all the confusion would have been decisive. We would never have recovered from it. He could have easily wiped us all out.”
“He could have also taken care of you too while you were in Russia. Emil was still there after Maksim passed. Passing up an opportunity to take out the king and his heir…? Unheard of.”
That’s a valid point. “Nikolai is an experienced strategist,” I say. “And the way things have been happening… The moves he’s been making have been mostly defensive. This campaign is worlds harder for him because he didn’t make sure that both Maksim and I didn’t make it. It’s not like him.” We stare at each other for a long moment, sharing the same thought. Shit.
“I think he might be telling the truth.”
Mikki takes a big deep breath. “Okay. If not him, then who? One of our own?”
“It seems likely. I’m going to need you to keep your ear to the ground on that. In the meantime, I’m going to call a pause on this war. Nikolai agreed to hold off on any aggression if I pull my men back.”
Mikki frowns. “The brothers are going to be pissed.”
“Good. Maybe whoever decided to pull this shit will throw a tantrum and make themselves known. Then we can put them out of their misery. Make the arrangements. I want to see everyone early tomorrow morning.”
Mikki downs the last of his drink and stands up. “Yes, sir.”
He leaves and I look at my empty glass. The other detail that I’ve been mulling over and hadn’t mentioned to Mikki is the fact that Nikolai never mentioned Natalya or the fact that there was a stray witness to Emil’s killing. In all likelihood, he has no idea that she saw anything. It’s probably safe for her to go back home or wherever she likes.
But if I’m right about that… then she’d have to leave. And as much as I would never keep her here against her will… dammit. I don’t want her to go. I think back to that moment that we shared in the kitchen a few days back. Teaching her to play chess… and watching her eyes light up as she tried hustling me. Every interaction with her is a lesson for me that I didn’t know I needed.
I want the chance to know her. The little tidbits that she’s given me in such a short amount of time aren’t enough. When I think of her, I’m dangerously close to a sort of desperation that I’m deftly unfamiliar with and deeply intrigued by.
Infatuation will make you do wild things.Mikki had been referring to Natalya when he said that to me. Little does he know that knife has a double edge.
I’m compelled to ask her to stay, even though I know it’s probably best if she doesn’t. A woman as pure as she is deserves to live far from the world of violence that I live in.
And regardless of my own desires, I can’t bind her to me. She deserves something better than this.
It’s decided. Tonight, I’ll break the news to her. She can leave if she wants to once I’ve called this war off.
23
NATALYA
Anton and I haven’t really communicated since that day he took the phone out of my room, not that that’s especially hard to do in this house. He wasn’t kidding about needing a map to move around. I’ve gotten lost twice in the last couple of days. Some of these hallways are like a maze.
The night after our big fight, I decided to see if I can find another bedroom. Somewhere farther away where I didn’t have to see the light under his door at night and wonder what he’s doing up. Through this house, I walked the halls. I managed to find a sauna, a home gym, a library with books that went all the way up to a cathedral style ceiling. I spent a little while in there. It seemed like every book in the world was in that room.
I also happened upon a room that seemed to be some kind of sitting room. On the walls were all these portraits of old men in suits, staring out at me with humorless faces. I pause on one that I vaguely recognize. He’s a handsome man with silver hair and a beard. The tie he’s wearing is as silver as his hair and embroidered with a diamond pattern.
I think it was Maksim. I’ve only ever seen him once or twice and it was probably at some family event. Maybe even that fateful sweet sixteen where I first laid eyes on Anton. He looks like all the other men, except his eyes are soft… almost kind. They’re dark and turn down at the ends, as if he’s sad or maybe just empathetic.
Since I’ve seen that portrait, I’ve been wondering about the man who raised Anton. He was a Pakhan like my father, like Anton, like the man who probably wants me dead. I don’t imagine that the he tossed the ball around in the yard or whatever else normal fathers do with their sons. The life lessons he gave Anton had to do with grooming him to become the man he is now.
It makes me wonder, even now, what kind of personhewas. Was he married or was he the kind of man like many Bratva that I’ve known? Someone who had plenty of notches in his bedpost and very few real, lasting relationships? That kind of man wouldn’t be able to show Anton how to love… or how to be a father one day.
From that room, I got lost for a little bit, ended up in a small atrium with dying plants that looked like they haven’t been cared for since… well, probably since Anton’s mentor died. Eventually, I found my way out of there and then back up to my room.
And at least for the last twenty-four hours, I’ve opted for staying either in my room or in the living room, just to keep myself from being overwhelmed… or lost again. Though I find myself thinking about that sitting room and about the atrium when it’s too quiet and I can’t sleep. There are mysteries here that I will probably never solve.
At dinner tonight, we barely spoke. He asked me if I liked the food and I said yes and outside of a few casualpass the salttypestatements, it was a quiet dinner between us. I would like to say that it doesn’t bother me, that it’s for the best and all that, but I don’t feel like it is. As much as I hate to say it, I miss connecting with him.
Also… something seems to be on his mind. I don’t know how to explain how I know, but he seems really preoccupied with something. It might be me and this situation that we’re in, but it could very well be some complicated Bratva shit. Whatever it is, I’m not privy to it. And maybe I shouldn’t be, anyway.
Now it’s late and I’m in bed and everything is just too quiet… and I’m thinking about him.
