Apollon's the last place I want to spend my Saturday night, but Elio made it clear my brothers and I needed to show up. His soldiers need to see us together, need to believe the alliance is real enough that they'll stand side by side with our men when the fighting starts. Hard to trust someone who won't even drink with you.
“Give me a week or two to take care of this shit,” I say. “The second it’s safe, you can come stay at the penthouse for as long as you want.”
“Like our father would ever allow that.” There’s a bitter edge to her tone.
“Leave that part up to me. But you have to trust me. Right now is not the time.”
If this works, she’ll never have to do anything she doesn’t want to again.
“Fine. But I’m holding you to this,Kiryusha,” she says, using my childhood nickname. “And you’ll take me to a club. Maybe Apollon? I can show Elio what he missed out on.”
“Svyatoy chert,” I blurt, but my sister breaks into mischievous laughter.
“You know I’m just fucking with you, right?”
“Or trying to send me to an early grave.”
“Nah. I’ll keep you around a little longer. Even though you’re an overprotective ass.”
A smile tugs at my mouth. “Love you too,malen’kaya.”
We hang up, and I slide out of the car, tossing the keys to the valet. I turn toward the entrance.
Apollon is everything you’d expect from a Valenti club. Ostentatious and expensive.
A line snakes down the block, but I bypass it, heading straight to the door where a bouncer in a black suit nods me through without a word.
The main level is full of bodies packed onto the dance floor, strobes cutting through artificial fog, the air thick with perfume and sweat.
I take the stairs two at a time to the VIP section. My brothers are already here. I’ll make an appearance, stay long enough to be polite, then get the hell out. But blowing off Elio’s birthday would be an insult I can’t afford. Everything rides on what happens in two days: Katya’s freedom, my own future, our entire position in this city.
The bass vibrates through the VIP section, a steady pulse that matches the headache building behind my eyes.
“You look like someone shit in your cereal,” Dem says, appearing at my elbow with a fresh drink for me. “Cheer up, brother. We’ve earned a night off.”
“Have we?” I don’t bother hiding my irritation. The operation’s in two days. We don’t have time for nights off.
“We’re as ready as we can be,” Matvey adds, joining us at the railing.
I take a sip of the whiskey instead of answering. There’s no such thing as being too prepared.
“Relax. Have a few drinks. Stay long enough to be polite, then you can disappear back into your cave.”
I grunt, taking another pull of whiskey.
The tension in the room doesn’t help me relax. We’re standing in a sea of Valenti soldiers, surrounded by men who not long ago would’ve put a bullet in our heads just for walking in here.
The alliance is new, fragile, built on necessity rather than trust.
Below us, the main floor writhes with bodies. Women are everywhere, dressed to kill, looking for attention, for money, for a good time.
Except none of them are her. I’ve stayed away from Velour for days because I can’t afford distractions. But she’s been in my head constantly.
Last night I drove past her building, thoughts circling back to her no matter how many times I tried to shut them down. Her light was on. I sat in my car for ten minutes, staring up at that window, wondering if I should say fuck it, go in, and end this madness.
“You know what your problem is?” Dem’s voice pulls me back. “You need to get laid.”
“Fuck off.”
