“Sasha!”
I straighten on the makeshift stool I made from some boxes as Anton barges into the garage. I let my rifle rest on my knees, my fingers strangling the cloth I’ve been using to clean it. I prefer to do it here so Mike doesn’t see this side of me—or his family.
He’s just a kid who loves his cartoons and candy, and I want to preserve that innocence for as long as possible.
Cold air penetrates my bones and the blizzard slips inside before my brother slams the door.
His coat is covered with snow and his face is so white, it could compete with the harsh natural elements. His eyes blaze worse than the storm outside, terrifying in their depths.
“What the fuck have you done?” he snarls, his voice and face tight with tension.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Maksim is gone.”
“Really?” I rub the cloth across the back of my weapon. “And how do you know that? Unless you went to see him on your own?”
He’s been sneaking out regularly, after he thinks we’ve all gone to sleep. I thought maybe he was going to exercise or meet with the men who still follow this fallen empire, but judging by his shit mood every morning, I’m sure he’s been visiting that old cottage.
I considered following him, but since Maksim has gotten strong enough to defend himself, I thought it would be better not to interfere. Besides, they haven’t been injured, at least not physically, so it was pointless for me to get between them.
Anton seems to take the asshole act up a notch whenever I try to break up their endless fights, so I chose the diplomatic route and let them fend for themselves.
Now, however, Anton looks close to ripping me to pieces. “So you did let him go.”
“No, I didn’t. But you didn’t answer my question. Did you go behind my back to the cottage?”
“Sasha,” he growls deep in his throat.
“Yes, Tosha?”
“Don’t fuck with me.” He storms in front of me, his shoulders, legs, and fists brimming with lethal tension. “When did he leave? How? What’s his itinerary?”
“No clue.” I lift a shoulder. “I might have dropped off a key there and smuggled in some ski equipment.”
“You fucking idiot!” He reaches a hand out to grab me by the collar of my shirt, but I jump up and step away at the last second. The rifle drops from my lap and hits the ground with a clank.
“What?” I meet his cold gaze with my own. “Maks isn’t your prisoner. He’s no one’s prisoner, for that matter. He was never supposed to stay in that basement forever.”
“Yes, he was.”
“What the hell is wrong with you?”
“What the fuck is wrong with you, damn it! You just sent him straight to New York. In no time, Kirill and his men will be crowding the front of our house to finish what they started.”
“No, they won’t, because Maks doesn’t know the exact location of this house.”
“You underestimate that fucker. He can pinpoint the area and they’d easily track us down.”
“He won’t do that.”
“Oh yeah? And what makes you so sure?”
“He’s my best friend and I trust him.”
Anton barks out an obnoxious laugh that pierces my ears. “Best friend? Trust? You were and always will be a naïve fucking fool, Sasha. This is why Kirill managed to fool you and stomp all over you.”
I get in his face, losing my cool as I push against him. “So what if I made a mistake? So what if I wanted love and stability in a fucked-up existence? Yes, I was an idiot. Yes, I trusted the wrong person, but that doesn’t mean I’ll lose my humanity because of it like you did! I’m not a robot, Tosha! I will never be a damn emotionless monster who’s fine with imprisoning his friends and driving them insane. He’s your friend, too. Or was, because you’ve definitely lost him now. I haven’t, and I won’t. Maks is one of the good ones. He has a pure, compassionate soul, which can’t be said about you.”
His nostrils flare and I can tell he’s barely stopping himself from strangling me. “You’re going to eat those words when the owner of that pure, compassionate soul betrays you. Just like Kirill.”
“I refuse to have a black heart and believe everyone is out to get me.”
“That black heart is the reason you’re still alive.”
“And I’m thankful for that, but I won’t adopt your way of thinking. You believe we should’ve kept Maks forever, but you can’t possibly be blind to how agitated he was becoming as the days went by. He had scratch marks on the back of his neck and blood beneath his nails from the aggressive way he was sinking his fingers into his skin. If he’d stayed, he might well have killed himself or you, just to end the cycle. You might not want to admit it, but I did the right thing by giving him his freedom.”
Besides, Maks and I have a plan that ensures this whole tragedy ends with me and Kirill without involving anyone else.
Not my family.
Not his family.
Just him and me.
Over the past day, I’ve been wondering how Kirill received the message. I don’t know if he really thought I was dead or if he had figured out the body wasn’t mine.
The reason I left the bracelet and ring he gave me on that corpse before we burned what remained of the cottage was for the shock effect on him.
Or…that’s what I hoped for.
Truth is, he might have welcomed it since he has a real wife now and would be glad to get rid of the fake one.
“Here’s the thing you don’t want to admit, Sasha. You fucked up big time.” Anton steps away. “We need an urgent meeting with Uncle Albert and Babushka so that we can bring up the day of the attack. We’re in a race against time now and have to get Kirill before he’s able to get us.”
Three days later, Anton, a dozen mercenaries, and I fly to New York.
My stomach has been upset since we landed. I’d like to blame it on cabin pressure, but I know that’s far from the truth.
I’m back to the place I left in tears not two months ago, and the reminder that I’ll probably also go home in tears squeezes my chest.
But that would mean I’d at least have closure.
At last.
Maybe the previous six—almost seven—years of my life will finally have an ending. Maybe the nightmares about my family’s death will finally vanish.
Though, that’s wishful thinking.
The more realistic scenario is that I’ll feel emptier than ever. I’ll lose my sense of purpose and have…nothing.
I’ll stand at the top of an abyss and long for the bottom.
All these years, I’ve resisted the urge to end it all, because I had to get revenge. Justice.
After this trip, I’ll have nothing to stop me from giving in to the urge and embracing nothingness.
Right now, I’m standing at the top of a cliff—a literal one. Under the bright moonlight slipping in and out of trees, it appears steep, nearly bottomless.
If someone were to fall down there, they’d die.
Maybe this is my abyss.
“Sasha.”
I slowly turn around to face my brother. We’re wearing similar black combat clothes, the only difference being that he’s putting on a balaclava.
As he checks his weapon, my lips part.
Seeing him in this outfit brings back memories of an incident we never found an explanation for.
“Were you the one who masterminded the attack before the shipment? The one who held the gun at Kirill’s head at the top of that container?”
He doesn’t lift his head. “And I would’ve killed him if you hadn’t foolishly defended him and even shot me.”
I wince. “You had a vest on.”
“Is that a sorry?”
“Sorry,” I murmur.
No one, not even Kirill, would’ve suspected that one of his most loyal men, Yuri, who he thought was searching for him, would hold him at gunpoint.
Now that I think about it, Yuri was uncharacteristically frowning during the entire trip back home.
He also wore his jacket closed, probably to hide a certain gunshot.
But there’s something else I remember so vividly, even when I was stupidly emotional over the prospect of Kirill being hurt.
“You…hesitated.”
My brother slowly lifts his head from his arm. “I did not.”
“You did. He had no ammunition and you could’ve shot him in the head right then and there, and while you hit him, you didn’t deliver the death blow. Is that maybe because…you also liked him? Or you didn’t believe he could be behind the massacre?”
“Don’t be fucking ridiculous. You’re the one who interrupted me before I could kill him.”
“You had other chances to get rid of him, but you took none.”
“I’ll definitely take this one if you don’t shoot him between the eyes.”
“But you didn’t do it before.”
“I didn’t have evidence before. I got it after he set out to kill you and the rest of our family.”
“That’s fair enough.”
Is it wrong that I take solace in the fact that Anton also fell for Kirill’s charms? He probably also hesitated because he didn’t want to hurt him.
And he thought that maybe Uncle Albert’s evidence wasn’t absolute.
My brother clutches me by the shoulder. “Can I count on you for this?”
I nod.
“There can’t be any mistakes, Sasha.”
“I know. We’ll finally get revenge.”
“Finally,” he says with a level of conviction similar to my own. Barely there. Dismal. Filled with tension that neither of us will admit the reason behind. “We’ll go back home after this.”
“What’s the point, though?”
“What?”
“Babushka and Uncle want us to keep fighting within Russia. Take up arms again and go against the government. We’ll have to train men and spend the rest of our lives in a hopeless attempt to gain back control.”
“We’re getting revenge.”
“I’m so sick and tired of that word. Aren’t you?”
“It’s my duty.”
“Well, it’s not mine anymore. This is the last thing I’ll do for the family. I won’t spend the rest of my life chasing a pipe dream or stand by and watch Mike being groomed into another version of you.”
He sighs deeply. “You’re awfully outspoken today.”
“I learned from Maks.”
His jaw clenches, but his mask soon slips back into place. “Let’s get this over with first and then we’ll talk.”
The plan is fairly simple.
According to the intel Uncle Albert gathered, Kirill is having a meeting with one of the higher-ups in the Irish mafia here.
They’ve been at odds with the Bratva for all their lives, but the new leader is somehow fond of Kirill and is apparently ready to end the war. His beef was with the Sokolovs, as in, Sergei and his brother before him, but now that Kirill is Pakhan, the equation is changing.
Ironically, Kirill was the one who incited the war in the first place, just so he could keep his promise to Damien to give him something entertaining.
Now, he’ll use this chance to engrave his position as the best leader the Bratva could ever have. The others won’t have a reason to vote him out if he’s bringing both peace and profits.
His dream of leadership is finally coming true. At least up until now.
Because I’ll shatter everything he’s worked for—including his life.
Anton and the other men will intercept Kirill’s guards while I take care of him.
Just me.
After Anton and I separate, I climb a tree near the cliff and position my rifle in front of me. I’m not going to shoot him from a distance. No, I’ll do it while looking into his cold eyes.
This is in case someone else intervenes.
Anton and the others have my back, but something could go wrong.
I sent a text to Maksim asking him not to come and to make sure as few men as possible attend this mission.
His reply was strange.
Maksim: Can’t you stop this and talk it out? Just fifteen minutes will do as long as you hear his side of the argument. Everything isn’t as you thought, Sasha.
Sasha: I’m done talking to him and there’s no excuse he can offer that’ll dissuade me from this.
Maksim: In that case, I’ll be there.
I’d really hoped he would change his mind. If he and Anton actually end up killing one another, the one who remains alive will be damaged for life.
And I’ll have to hate them, too.
But I don’t allow myself to think of that right now as I breathe in through my nose and out through my mouth. Gunshots sound in the distance and I tense.
Shit.
My heart beats loudly and I realize that I’m not terrified about the lives of the mercenaries who came with us. Aside from my brother, I couldn’t give a fuck about them.
I’m actually shaking at the prospect that the men I knew and trained with for years are dying because of me.
What if Maksim is one of them? Or even Viktor?
Shit.
Shit.
Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea, after all. Would I be able to live with myself if I knew I’d caused their deaths? They had nothing to do with my family’s massacre and yet they’re paying the price.
No.
It’s not me.
It’s Kirill who dragged them into this, knowing full well that he’s leading them to their certain demise.
Something rustles to my right and I direct my rifle in that direction, my muscles tensing. It disappears, but then it appears again from the south, out of my range.
I hold on to my position, but I can’t see the reason behind the commotion. Did some of Kirill’s men manage to escape my brother?
The movement happens again, almost like a rustling of trees. If I shoot, I’ll give away my position and that’s a no-go if I don’t have a definite target.
Carefully, I sling the rifle across my chest and slide down the tree.
The moment my feet touch the ground, a shiver rushes down my spine as warmth envelops my back and hot words penetrate my ears. “Miss me, wife?”
