I turned back towards the old man, wanting to get out of the shop and away from Fyodor as quickly as possible. I wanted nothing to do with my brothers. Not after what they had caused me. I could not risk Avgust finding out that I had been seen with them and only becoming even more firm in his belief that I had betrayed him.
“Sir,” I addressed the owner, “Here is my name and number. If the painting sells, can you please call me? I will come and collect the money.”
“I will do just that, dear. And if you ever want the painting back, you can come whenever.”
“Thank you so much.”
Fyodor’s eyes flicked to my face and then to the painting, something registering in his mind. I walked out of the shop, and he followed behind me, stopping in the cobbled street. His expression had hardened but his gaze still held concern for me. He had been the one I had been the closest to.
“Why are you selling your painting?” he asked.
“My life is none of your business, Fyodor.”
“He kicked you out after he found out you were a Romanov, didn’t he?” Fyodor asked, getting straight to the problem.
“None of that is your business. I told you to stay away from me and not come looking for me. Then what the hell are you doing here?”
“You disappeared.”
“I disappeared months ago, and none of you came looking, so don’t pretend like you care now. I am done with you. All of you. Please leave me alone.”
He stepped closer. “You ran off with a Bratva man, Ilana.”
“Ran off? Is that what you think?” I scoffed. “That Bratva man saved my life, and you don’t get to judge anyone for being a Bratva man when your own hands are stained with blood.”
“Saved your life? What do you mean?”
“I don’t believe this. You still don’t know?” I asked. “I was kidnapped, Fyodor, and was being sold off at an auction. Avgust was there accidentally, and he bought me from there. He saved my life. He helped me get better. He married me for protection. He was there for me when none of you were, and he has done more for me in the past few months than any of you can ever do.”
“And yet he kicked you out the moment he found out your surname,” Fyodor replied, his jaw hardening.
“And who are you to judge that? He did the right thing. He kicked out a woman who had lied to him. Had I told him the truth since day one, none of this would have happened. I only lied to him to protect you all, but I should never have even tried. None of you deserved it.”
“Come home, Ilana. Your place is in the Romanov house beside your brothers. Whatever happened in the past can be treated like a distant memory now. I want you home.”
“No.”
“This isn’t a request, I am afraid. You don’t have him beside you to fight your battles, and you definitely cannot fight them alone. Not against me.”
“You have lost—”
A gunshot cracked through the air before I could complete my sentence, and Fyodor staggered. Blood bloomed across his chest, my eyes widening in horror. I tried to look where the bullet had come from, but it didn’t matter in themoment. Fyodor was losing blood and consciousness quickly. The world tipped sideways as he hit the floor, my name torn from his lips as chaos erupted all around us.
And somewhere, deep in my chest, I knew.
Nothing would ever be the same again. But right now, I needed help.
I needed Avgust.
Chapter 22 - Avgust
The safe house felt wrong without her. It was too quiet, too still. Like it was holding its breath, waiting for someone who wasn’t coming back. I hadn’t slept there since she left.
Instead, I found myself at the Chernykh house, standing among loud voices and clinking glasses, pretending I wasn’t hollowed out. Pushing away Ilana made me feel like everything had come to an end. The gathering was supposed to be strategic since faces, names, and alliances were now clearer than ever, but all I could think about was the way Ilana used to hum softly when she painted. I had thrown all of those paintings away and had forced her to leave.
Iosif stood at the head of the room, his presence commanding as always. Lukyan leaned against the far wall, arms crossed and eyes sharp. Timofey hovered near the drinks, pretending he wasn’t a part of this at all. Several people had tried to talk to me throughout the evening, but I just hadn't been in the mood.
“You look like shit, dear brother,” Timofey’s voice came from behind me, and I realized he had decided to make his way to me.
