“You were wrong, and you’re sorry? Youmisheard me, or at least misunderstood what you heard. The result was me being tortured in your family’s basement for something I had nothing to fucking do with! Tortured thanks to you, the woman I thought I loved!”
The tears streaking down my face are warm against the chill of his words, and he huffs a cold laugh before looking me up and down one last time, then turning back to the window.
“If you had listened at all,” he says quietly, closing his eyes, “you would have heard that I was telling the truth. And if you had bothered to look in my eyes, you would have seen the truth of my words even if you didn’t hear them.”
“Please, I—” My pleas turn to ash on my tongue, and Teddy’s jaw flexes, but he doesn’t open his eyes or look my way. His silence feels final, but everything’s so fresh…he’ll come around. He’ll have to—for all three of us. Everyone is hurt, Leo is dead, our families are at war, and we don’t even know what’s happened…This is the worst of it, I’m sure. Tempers will cool, and once we figure out who’s behind the murder, everything will be fine.
“Alright, we’re here. Guards have already noticed us. What’s the play, Teddy?”
He sits up, turning to stare at me one last time. If I thought there was hatred in his eyes earlier, now it’s…nothing. As if I’m not even here. “Park it here and don’t turn it off. I can walk now, I think. She can use it to find her own way home.”
With that, he’s gone, and I’m left to scramble into the driver’s seat before the Taranov guards can get any closer. Driving away from the gates, I can’t help but look in the rearview mirror. Teddy and Thatch slowly make their way through, and Thatch glances back over his shoulder to watch me leave. Teddy never does.
Chapter 32
Ellie:Hi–can you please call me?
Ellie:You don’t have to forgive me…but we need to talk.
Ellie:It’s not even about all of this
Ellie:You’re going to want to hear me out
Ellie:I’m so sorry, Teddy, but I refuse to believe this is where we end things
“Hey, there’s myfavorite new reluctant Bratva heir! You know, I was beginning to think nobody would ever be able to brood about it like I did, but I think you’re starting to…whoa, man. What the hell happened?”
The last time Sasha saw me, I was in much better health.Plus, I still had love in my heart and something to live for…I hiss as our family physician continues wrapping my ribs tightly. We’re hoping that between this and pumping me full of meds, I’ll be able to play tonight. If not, Pretzel will have a chance to make a name for himself on the biggest stage in sports. Two days ago, the idea that I wouldn’t give a fuck about playing for a Stanley Cup would have been unfathomable. Now, I couldn’t care less, and I tell Sasha exactly why.
“Betrayed by the woman I love. Tortured by her family. They think I killed her brother. Where the hell have you been? I would’ve thought Mila would have filled you in on all this already.”
“I have things to do that don’t solely involve catering to you and your sister’s needs within this compound, you know. As much as I love hanging out with Misha and seeing your progress. It’s actually a little scary how dead your eyes are now, bro. I’m sure Mila—”
“Is impressed, yes.” My sister strolls in wearing her scariest, blackest workout gear, and if she thinks I’m able to come to the training gym today, she’s crazy. Thatcher follows her, sweaty and looking equally terrified and excited. “But I wouldn’t have chosen this chain of events as the set of circumstances to finally allow him to tap into his inner badass.” She sighs heavily before continuing. “All of us inevitably have to crumble under trauma before we can rise, though. I think I have something that might make you feel better, Brother.”
Brother, not Cuddles. Damn, am I tearing up right now?
“Misha is going to take the lead, and he’ll let me know how you do. You’ll have plenty of time to finish by lunch and then get over to the arena for your game tonight. If you’re sure you’re committed to playing?”
Ellie:Please at least tell me you aren’t trying to play tonight…the news hasn’t said anything about you being out but you should be in the hospital right now
I shrug. I really don’t care, but the guys deserve the best shot I can give. If I feel like Pretzel can do better, I’ll pull myself. For the team, I’ll at least try. We’re already struggling without the fucking Santori brothers. Mila stalks off, Thatcher following like a puppy, and Misha strides in just as Doc is finishing up.
“I’m not so sure I agree with your sister that it’s the right time for this, but she’s right that we can’t wait much longer. Follow me.”
He takes me on a winding path, through a section of the house I haven’t yet explored, and enters a code into a keypad next to a…bank vault? The vault door swings open, and he gestures for me to go first before swinging the door closed behind us once he follows. Leading again, we wind through more halls full of unmarked doors until he raps out a sequence on one, and it opens. The room is small, with one wall of windows looking into an adjacent space. A couple of our top guys are already here, and I give each a nod before turning to see what they’re looking at.
“Jesus.” I don’t even realize I’ve said it until it’s out, but the view through the windows is shocking, even after all my desensitization training. When Misha and Mila started putting me through my accelerated Bratva course, I thought the physical aspect would end up being the hardest part. It wasn’t. Not by a long shot.
The lessons on hierarchy, rival families, and the history of our own were tedious but interesting. Learning the bare-bones basics of our finances and legal standing within the community made my head swim, but Misha assured me that once we had more time after the season, everything would make more sense. Training humbled me quickly, but helped me build rapport with the men,mymen, faster. It reminded me of the camaraderie of a locker room, so I didn’t mind it.
No, the worst part,by far,was the desensitization. To blood, torture, death, and dying. Those sessions were staggered and also basic, according to Misha, with more to come on the intricacies of how to bring a man to the brink of death many times without pushing him over the edge. It was enough to affect my sleep for a while, but, according to my sister, the lesson plans have been honed over the years, and her encouragement proved true. Eventually, I compartmentalized and figured out how to go from watching a man being tortured to laughing at a movie with Ellie within an hour, no sweat.
Ellie…
The crack of a whip pulls me back to the situation at hand, which is a man,I think, tied to a chair in the room beyond the glass. He’s flayed within an inch of his life, and the man holding the whip looks so incensed that this must have been a personal attack. Misha breaks the silence.
“The man in the chair is about to be dead, so I won’t tell you his name. The man with the whip is Yakov, one of our mid-level leaders, third generation, good stock. He’s as solid as they come and prevents a lot of problems for us with the unions. The man in the chair was one of his guys. Broke into his house and attacked his daughter. We aren’t sure why, or why he thought he would get away with it. She survived, but won’t be the same for a while.”
