“Youdolike her.”
“She’s a pre-school teacher.” I roll my eyes. “Have you ever met a pre-school teacher that you could hate?”
“She’s a pre-school teacher? Why would she do that?”
“I told you, she’s not like her brothers.” The image of the scar on her back pops into my head, and my shoulders tense.
She’s never had anyone to protect her. Everyone who was supposed to failed her. No wonder she did whatever she needed to keep Tommy safe. She knew she was the only one that would.
I want to tell Elana about Tommy, but that would bring us back to talking about Tony. And I’d be just fine never saying his name again.
“Are you going to call Alexander? He’s been worried,” I say when the silence stretches.
“He’s not angry with me?”
“He’s worried. You know him, he’s a blowhard. He might lecture you, you’re used to that. You should call him. Ivan too. Let them know you’re okay.”
She squishes up her lips, like she’s considering it. “Can’t you just tell them we talked?”
“As tempting as it to rub it in their faces that you’ve chosen me as your favorite, not this time. They need to hear it from you.”
“My favorite? No, you’re just the biggest pushover.”
I laugh. She’s not wrong. When it comes to her, there wasn’t anything I’d let her get away with.
I always thought it was because we were closer in age, but it’s something else. She’s always had one foot out the door because of not being our full sister—a fact none of us gave a fuck about.
“Call your brothers, Elana.” I give her the sternest expression I can muster without falling into laughter again. Which only makes her laugh harder.
“Okay, Okay. I’ll call them.”
“And call me again, too, in a few days…tomorrow. Whenever, but don’t go dark on us, you got it? Or I will send the Volkov army after you.”
The smile falls away. She’s more somber.
“I’ll keep in touch.”
“If you get into trouble, or something happens, who do you call?”
“Artem?” She says, but her eyes aren’t directed at me anymore.
“What?” I lean into the screen, as though I’ll be able to see through it at what she’s looking at.
She refocuses with a shake of her head. “Nothing. I thought—never mind. It’s late, and I’m tired. I’ll call you in a few days, I promise.”
“Okay. And no more ignoring our calls and texts.”
“All right. Enough big brother stuff. I’m going to bed.”
“Call Alexander?—”
“Good night, Kaz.” She waves a hand in front of the camera, then ends the call before I can finish giving my order.
I close the laptop and sink back in my chair.
She’s all right.
On my way out the door, back to my room where my naked wife is surely asleep by now, I shoot a quick text.
