Tristan toes the dead Spider, his hands curled into fists, no doubt thinking about what his brother tried to do to me on the tarmac.
I don’t feel anger. At all. I’m surrounded by the highest ranking members of the New York Bratva. My best friend Ren is here. Tristan grabs my hand, squeezing tight. Off to the side is an Irish guy who’s pulled out anothercigarette.
Boris grabs it from his hand. “Are you trying to start a forest fire?”
Elijah inspects Ian. “That’s where you wandered off to earlier? You gave Maz a message.” He glances at his stepmum.
“He was a weird fucking lad,” Ian says under his breath while pouting because Boris won’t give him back the carton of cigarettes.
Yelena smiles softly and speaks to Ren. “I think this one might take after his mother. It wouldn’t be a bad idea to give him a chance.”
There is only the crunch of grass as we walk back to our cars.
“What was he like?” I ask Yelena. “Your Peter.”
Her hands are in the pockets of her utility jacket. She is strong and sturdy despite her frail frame.
I wonder if she’s thinking about the photo I gave her earlier. If that’s how she remembers him, or if there are other moments that flit through her mind more often.
“He liked poetry.”
Elijah’s fingers curl protectively around the necklace in his hand, his head cocking to the side as he listens.
“And classical music,” Yelena adds in her soft tone. “We would go to the symphony.”
It’s not until she talks about this activity that I realize how perfect it is for a woman like Yelena. There is something dreamy buried deep beneath her unyielding strength.
“How did he die?”
The words slip out, a vomit of sorts. But I have been wondering since I heard her speak to Christian.
Her gaze remains on her boots as she strides forward. I don’t think she’ll respond, but I think she appreciates a direct question.
“A bullet between his eyes. He did not see it coming.”
Her own eyes are pained with an unspoken truth.Shehad seen it coming.
“I’m sorry.” Two boring, sad words. “That had to have been someone pretty awful who could take out a Spider like that.”
Yelena laughs, the noise bitter. “Oh, Matheson. You are the first non-Karamazov to have taken out a Spider in decades.”
We’re almost to the cars when she stops and faces me. “I like you and Hallow’s style.”
Dimitri wheezes, one hand clutching his chest.
“I’m not sure what you’re talking about.”
“No? So the Cosa Nostra, Stuarts, and all those Liverpool gangs aren’t lining up waiting for their turn in Cade’s jailcell.”
I shrug.
Maybe in a year Cade will be dead. Perhaps in two years. All I know for sure is until that time comes, his life will be a living hell.
Yelena smiles and nods at Tristan. “Take care of her.”
Tristan grabs my hand. “I will.
Ren grabs my other hand. “We will.”
