“What are you thinking?” he asks gently, cocking his head.
I sniff. “I can’t let you go, Mikhail. I just can’t.”
“Lastochka…”
“What does it mean? That word. You always call me that.”
He smiles. “It’s a little bird. When I first saw you, you were like a swallow trapped in a cage. I wanted to get you out and put you in mine.”
“You ended up freeing me instead...”
“Is that how you see it now?” he asks. “Because you were right. I did drag you into this marriage. It was cruel of me, but even so, I’d do it again. A million times over.”
My eyes rim with tears I swallow back. “You’re giving me everything I’ve ever wanted. Except for one thing,” I look up at him.
“I never said I wouldn’t be careful when I leave. Or that I wouldn’t be back.”
“Promise me then. Promise me you’ll be here in time for those performances. You said you’d never lie to me.”
His thumbs swipe under my eyes. “I promise you. There is no world in which I don’t come back to this. But I have to go, and you’ll have to let me, because otherwise, Cecilia, I don’t know who the hell I am.”
I bring my hands to his face, holding him for the first time. “I do. I know you’re my husband, and you go to extraordinary lengths for the people you love. You take care of others when they can’t offer you anything in return. And although you are a major pain to deal with sometimes,” I smile, “you make life an adventure. Everything you touch becomes fun, and I am grateful you bring me along for the ride.”
“Now who’s being delusional?” he says, chuckling. “You forgot the parts where I kill, torture, and trick people into doing what I want. I’m a man with no scruples, sweetheart. You can’t gloss over that.”
“I’m not going to sit here and pretend your darkness scares me anymore. It doesn’t; you are much more than what was embedded into you when you were a child.”
He dips his head, nuzzling his face against my neck, groaning. “You shouldn’t let me in. I’m not…” He sighs. “I don’t know how to…”
“It’s a little late for that.” I smile, fluttering my wet lashes. “I’ve already let you in. You’re coursing through my veins as we speak. And I like that you’re there because…I think…I think I love you, Mikhail.”
For a second, his entire body goes still, and so does mine. My heart pounds against my ribcage and into my ears, and I know only his voice can turn down the sound. I need him to say something—anything.
But he doesn’t. Instead, he leans back, encompassing me in his gaze before his lips collide with mine. It melts me instantly, making me reach for the object in my pocket I’ve been holding on to since I asked Victoria if she could give me one. I pull it in my palm, the round metal hard and warm, before placing it in his.
Our kiss breaks, and we both look down at the object—a coin.
“Your debt with me isn’t settled yet,” I say. “Take this so you remember to come back.”
33
Mikhail
Sixteen years ago
It was the winter of his fourteenth year, and Mikhail had learned to be self-sufficient.
He could handle weapons now, run for miles without getting tired, and even take part in some jobs the Pakhan gave out. Today, he and Wolf were landing in Siberia, a training ground their father sent them to every year to get stronger.
They were not alone. Other boys their age were brought by their fathers, all loyal to the Rykov Bratva, which sponsored the dreadful place. No one liked each other, no one ever had anything kind to say. The trainers celebrated rivalry, ensuring no kid had any sort of comfort to look forward to. That was the goal.
As the driver stopped the truck on top of a hill, where the military camp was, Mikhail took in the decaying walls ofhis new confinement. They were the same as last year, and the year before—cold, gray, and promising a slow, agonizing death of the soul.
They were molding him into a trained psychopath, someone who could kill on command and then go to sleep peacefully right after. The stale food he’d be fed, the sleepless, frigid nights, the beatings he’d soon endure and inflict, were all supposed to rip away his heart.
Mikhail snorted under his breath. He already felt empty inside.
A dozen boys got out of the truck at a guard’s signal, the wind merciless against Mikhail’s face and hands. He knew once they were inside, the cold wouldn’t stop until the day they flew back to America. Wolf threw him a knowing glance, sharing the sentiment.
