Dmitry shifts his weight from one foot to the other, his gaze still fixed on the monitor. His shoulders relax just a fraction, as if the tension is bleeding out, but his eyes keep darting back to the kid. A flicker, too quick to catch, then he shrugs, turning to move toward the table. He doesn’t say anything else, but he flicks a glance at me before refocusing on the kid.
I notice, but I don’t say anything.
“Kayla’s making something for them tomorrow,” he says, his eyes lingering a little longer than usual. The words are there, but the space between them feels heavy.
The door swings open with a muted thud.This time, Maksim strolls in, holding a plate of something. His mouth is half-full, and he’s chewing like he hasn’t eaten in days. “This…blin, whatever Kayla made… it’s good,” he says, crumbs falling from his mouth as he speaks. “You should have some.”
I take a deep breath, feeling the tightness in my chest.Suka,it’s almost two in the fucking morning, and Maksim is sitting there like he’s watching a damn comedy show—completely relaxed, legs stretched out, ass sunk deep into the leather chair. His chewing is slow, deliberate, as if he’s savoring every bite.
I clench my jaw, fighting the urge to toss something at his head.
“So,” Maksim begins, the last bit of food swallowed, “am I the only one… or does the kid look awfully familiar?”
I glance at him, annoyed, my hands gripping the edge of the desk. “You’re the only one talking,” I mutter, my jaw tight.
Maksim’s smirk widens, a glint of mischief dancing in his eyes. “Come on, you’ve noticed it too. The little guy’s got the same attitude as—”
“Shut up,” I cut him off.
He doesn’t know what he’s poking at. No one does.
“Just saying.” Maksim pushes the last bit of whatever the hell he’s eating into his mouth, chewing like it’s the best meal he’s ever had. His eyes lock onto mine. “You may want to get a DNA check,” he adds with a wink.
Before I even realize it, my hand twitches toward my gun.
Shoot this mudak in the head or the dick? Can’t decide.
Maksim catches the look and bursts into laughter, nearly choking on his food. He leans back, completely unfazed.
“Relax, boss, I’m just messing with you.”
Dmitry shifts his weight, the heavy soles of his boots scraping against the floor, pulling our attention.
He clears his throat, breaking the silence between us. “Elijah thinks you…” he hesitates, eyes flicking between Maksim and me, then looks straight at me, “look like one of the Pokémon.”
I blink.Elijah.That’s right. Clara—Red—called him that earlier.
My head tilts, confused. “ThePoke-what?” I shoot him a bewildered look, not sure if I heard him right.
“It’s a cartoon,” Dmitry says, glancing toward the monitor, his hand sliding into his pocket as he checks if the boy is still asleep. “Kids’ show. Pokémon.”
I stare at him. “You’re telling me the kid thinks I’m some cartoon character?”
Dmitry nods, his massive arms crossed, looking uncomfortable. “Yes, it’s the villain.”
I stare at him, my mind struggling to connect the dots.A cartoon series?You must be fucking kidding.Me? Leonid Kuznetsov, a cartoon character?
“Meowth,” the big guy says, dead serious. “He’s the villain. But… kinda dumb.”
I narrow my eyes, incredulous. “And how the fuck do you know?”
Dmitry shifts, stuffing his hands into his pockets. He’s quiet for a moment, long enough for Maksim to start chuckling again.
Dmitry finally speaks, his voice low. “My sister’s kid… Itwashis favorite.”
Sister?I didn’t know Dmitry had a sister… There’s more to this, but he won’t say.
Dmitry doesn’t look at me, doesn’t say anything more. Just stands there, staring at the ground like he doesn’t want to talk about it.
