“Why will he want to see me?” Alina asks.
She knows. She wants me to say it anyway. I retrieve a dress shirt from the closet, and only button it where it matters before throwing a suit jacket on top of it to hide the dressing.
“Because he can. Because he wants you for himself.” I then begrudgingly add, “He’ll want to confirm that I’m not treating you as anything more than a hostage.” Gavriil doesn’t want Alina, he just wants the power she would give him over me.
Alina’s mouth presses into a flat line, and then something like a smile ruins it. “You don’t plan to tell him about our agreement that makes me more,” she says, and then flinches like she gave away more than she intended. As if she’s not certain that she is more than my hostage I want to fuck.
“No, I don’t plan to admit that you’ve become more, but he’ll find out from someone else eventually,” I tell her honestly. Fuck, he’ll know the second he learns that I got shot covering her.
Which means he already knows.
As if he were listening right outside the door, the knock comes exactly when I least wanted it, three rapid taps of his knuckles.
“Bathroom,” I mouth to Alina. She listens without hesitation. I wasn’t kidding about her avoiding Gavriil. If he lays eyes on her today, he’ll know.
Once she’s out of sight, the door shuts softly and clicks, telling me she locked it. I move toward the bedroom door, ignoring the ache.
When I open it, my brother fills the space like he always does. Immaculate suit, perfectly hanging tie. Quiet blue eyes that are always alert in contrast to my gray ones in the mirror usually filled with exhaustion. He looks past me and inventories the room with a single pass. His gaze lands on the closed bathroom door, as if he knows she’s behind it.
“Little brother. You look like a man who didn’t duck,” he says.
“I look like a man who put himself where he needed to be,” I respond, owning up to what happened rather than try to downplay it.
Gavriil steps inside the room without being asked because invitations are for people who think doors and locks protect them.
“Report,” he says. It isn’t a request. Even though I’m certain Viktor already gave him a full accounting of what happened, he wants to hear it directly from my mouth, to glean any tiny differences in our stories.
“You got it yesterday,” I remind him. “I’m sure Viktor can repeat the play-by-play if you need him to. You’ve no doubt spoken to Yelena since then as well.”
He tilts his head, unamused and unwavering.
So, I give him my unedited version. I tell him Archer wasn’t there and that he sold the location. I give him the name of theman I’ll take first when it’s time to send a message. Finally, I give him the thing he actually came for without making him ask.
“Alina’s staying with me until this is all over.”
Men don’t often make pronouncements like that to my brother. He turns his head slowly until his eyes rest on mine as if he’s reassessing me.
“You’re obviously injured. You can’t move at full strength. What if there’s another attack? Give the responsibility to someone who can protect her.”
“I can protect her,” I say. “Do you want me to prove it to you right now? If so, I’ll rip my stitches out with my teeth.”
A shadow of a laugh touches the corners of his mouth and disappears like it wasn’t welcome. “You think I’m testing your pride. I’m evaluating a risk. She is still a valuable hostage. You, today, are a liability to the family.”
The words set off a clean, violent impulse that has nowhere to go. I step closer to my brother. “This family is alive and thriving because I’ve been your right hand for a decade and made liabilities into leverage. You don’t get to ever label me with that word.”
“Give her to me,” he says, and there’s the command under the argument, the steel under the suit. “You hunt the brother. You find my money, my guns, as promised by the end of the week. And stop pretending that some girl you just met is worth the unnecessary distraction!”
“You can have her brother,” I say. “But you will not have her,” I tell him in Russian since I know Alina will be eavesdropping.
Gavriil looks past me again, past the edge of restraint, to the door where she no doubt stands with her ear pressed against it.
My voice is quieter when I continue, my resolve clear when I say, “She’s mine.”
He hears the words in English. So does she.
“Careful, little brother,” he says. “It’s dangerous to divide your loyalties. I didn’t pry you out of our father’s jaws just so that you could turn into an undisciplined, lovesick fool yet again.”
Our eyes lock for a tense moment, dozens of heavy memories flickering through my mind from our childhood. The struggle. The abuse. The fear. All the things that bound us together as brothers.
