Mikhail
I step into the guest room on the ground floor, and the rain has stopped, but the sun refuses to come out. Maria stands by the casement window, her silhouette outlined by the filtered daylight through the sheer curtains. We've all decided to wait here until Vito calls with the Lanzzare decision. There's no point in leaving until we know where to go next. But I wanted to leave. Sorokin's words tossed me into a fury. A pakhan leads, not blames. But his assumptions about my actions don't upset me as much as what Maria did.
"Why did you make that decision without talking to me first?" I demand.
She turns to face me, and I instantly regret the tone of my voice when I see her troubled expression. "Mikhail, we can't keep running from place to place. Please swallow your pride and accept
