Vengeance

CHAPTER 16

"Tabitha."

She startled at the sound of his voice, springing up from the couch. Her wide eyes darted toward him as he approached with a tray of food. Instinctively, she stepped back, only to feel the obstacle of the couch behind her, leaving her feeling cornered.

Mikhail's heart clenched when he saw the flicker of terror in her eyes. She wasn’t seeing him. She was seeing him, mistaking him for his brother. That brief, haunting look of terror was worse than her anger or disappointment. He could handle everything she threw at him, even hatred, but not her being fearful of him.

"I am not Anatoly. It's me, Mikhail." He said softly with a sad smile on his face.

He did not take a step further until he was convinced she was alright and saw him as Mikhail and not his twin. He didn't want to add more to her trauma.

"I am sorry," She murmured, looking down uncomfortably, fingers playing with one another. "The two of you are exactly the same. Voice, looks, even the way you stand. It’s hard to tell you apart."

"I know,” Mikhail replied softly, "I am truly sorry about that. I wish there was something I could do to make it easier for you." He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Unfortunately, I can’t change my face. Not unless I opt for plastic surgery... and honestly, I’d rather not mess up my face the way my life already is."

Tabitha couldn’t help but chuckle, the sound soft but genuine as she looked up at him. "Mess up? How is your life messed up? You seem to have it all together—a perfect life, if anything."

Mikhail felt a sense of relief at the small smile tugging at her lips, even if it came from a place of playful judgement. "Not everything is as it seems," he said, his tone sincere but light. "It might look all hunky-dory from the outside, but on the inside... sometimes it feels like a vacuum.” He paused, watching her carefully. "Will it be alright if we sit on the couch? I brought breakfast," he added, motioning toward the tray in his hands.

"It's your house. You can do whatever you want."

"You’re scared of me, and I don’t want to trigger anything."

"I’m not scared of you," she corrected, "It’s the existence of your dark shadow that terrifies me.”

He nodded, carefully taking a step forward. Maintaining a reasonable distance, he lowered himself onto the couch beside her and placed the tray of breakfast between them. "Well, that's nice to hear." There was a bit of sarcasm in his tone.

"I need to go back home."

"No." The firmness in his voice was hard to miss.

"Mikhail...." she began, a mixture of frustration and pleading in her tone.

"I won't stop you once Anatoly is out of the picture. You do not want to see my face? That's okay. I will try to stay out of your hair and keep our contact to a minimum if that’s what you want. But I cannot let you go to your home, where my brother could easily track you down. You already had one nervous breakdown, Tabitha and I can't risk another."

"I don’t have any of my belongings here," Tabitha said with a sigh, her voice laced with hesitation. It was clear she was trying to find an excuse, even though the fear of returning to her own home was evident in her eyes. "And I need to go to school. My students can’t suffer because of me. How long will I need to hide from Anatoly? This can’t go on forever."

Mikhail knew she was right. He didn’t want her to put her life on hold because of his brother. This wasn’t the way anyone should have to live. He sighed, "We can go to your house and pick up everything you need. I won’t stop you from continuing with your life. And as for going out, I’ll make sure my men are with you every step of the way. You’ll be safe."

Tabitha's eyes widened in alarm, but Mikhail quickly raised his hand to calm her.

"Please, just listen," he said softly, his voice steady but urgent. "You won’t even notice them, I promise. It’s just a precautionary measure in case Anatoly tries to hurt you. Knowing him, it’s not a question of if he’ll try to reach you—it’s when. But I swear to you, he will not be able to harm you."

"What about my home? He will come there, and it’s only a matter of time before he finds out I’m staying with you. Mikhail, there’s no way I’ll be able to get out of this."

"You will," Mikhail replied with a quiet certainty. "I’ve got everything planned—at least for the beginning. He might try to call or meet you today, but you won’t hear from him for a couple of weeks. I promise." Mikhail’s eyes darkened, his jaw tightening as he spoke. "For now, I’ll put some distance between you two and give you a break. Anatoly will be swamped with work overseas. And with him, my mother will go too. Apparently, she can’t bear to leave her one and only precious son alone," he said bitterly, the sound carrying a mix of frustration and disdain. "And I’ll use that time to dig into everything—everything about them. In the end, Anatoly and my dear mother won’t know what hit them."

His words hung in the air, the last part more to himself than to her, as if he were mentally preparing for the storm he was about to unleash.

"What do you mean? One and only precious son?" Tabitha asked, her voice laced with confusion. Until Mikhail's identity truth was out, she had not realized how complicated this family equation was.

Mikhail’s gaze softened as he looked at her, the weight of his family's dysfunction pressing on him. "Nothing for you to worry about," he said, his voice gentle yet firm. "You've already been caught up enough in our mess. It's about time you are freed from it." He gave her hand a reassuring squeeze, a silent promise that he would protect her from whatever came next. "Now, you should eat.”

Tabitha slowly picked up the toast, her fingers lingering on it as her thoughts raced. She had been wondering about this for a while now, the question gnawing at her. Finally, she asked, her voice quiet but direct, "What exactly do you do, Mikhail?"

Mikhail glanced up at her, the question catching him off guard for a moment. “I own the Russo Liquor business," he said with a nonchalant shrug, as though it were no big deal. He took a bite of his own toast.

Tabitha's eyes widened slightly at his revelation. "Isn't that a mafia in itself?" she asked, unable to hide the shock. She had heard the name Russo before—whispers of its power, its influence—but she hadn't connected the dots until now. She could certainly imagine him leading such an empire, though. The idea of him as a leader felt both natural and unsettling at the same time.

"Figuratively, yes," he said, his tone calm, but there was a certain weight behind his words. "But not the kind you're thinking." He gave her a small, almost wistful smile as if to soften the reality of his life.

"Isn't it a big and dangerous business?"

"Yes, it is. Wherever there is big money involved, it becomes dangerous. It's a universal truth. Money can buy everything. Even a person's soul."

His words hung in the air, heavy with experience, as if he had seen too much of that truth to ignore it.

"That’s... not good to hear," she muttered.

"But it's an unfortunate truth."

Tabitha took a deep breath, still trying to process everything he had shared. "It might also be interconnected with other illicit businesses, then," she stated carefully, her voice betraying the uncertainty in her thoughts.

"Some are, but not mine. It may be difficult to believe, but the liquor manufactured and sold by my venture is a hundred percent legal." He paused, letting the weight of his words sink in before continuing. "Yes, there may be a few transactions here and there, but I am nowhere connected to any illicit business. We don’t smuggle drugs or toys around with anything illegal.”

Tabitha hesitated, her brow furrowing as she remembered something she'd heard. "Females? I heard that—"

Mikhail’s jaw tightened, and he snapped, "We are not into prostitution." He immediately softened his tone, realizing her curiosity came from a place of genuine concern. "I’m sorry. My father had a strict code of conduct. He was a man of principles, and it’s my responsibility to carry that forward. I intend to. Yes, I am powerful. Yes, I have contacts because of the business I’m in, but I am not some low-class criminal."

"Have you killed anyone?" She whispered the last part.

He should have been annoyed, but instead, a laugh escaped him. She spoke as though it were a secret, as if she were afraid of the question itself.

"Unless it's for defense, no." His tone was calm, almost casual. "I’m no saint, Tabitha. It’s hard to get where I am without having a target on your back."

"Ohh?" she murmured, her curiosity piqued.

"Are you not scared of me now?" He raised his brows, a smile playing at the corner of his lips.

She met his gaze, their eyes locking. For a long moment, the room seemed to quiet around them, leaving only the weight of her answer hanging between them.

"For some reason, no." Her voice was steady, though her heart beat faster in her chest. "You’re more dangerous than Anatoly, your business is more dangerous than him, yet... he scares me more. He used to be so calm, so composed, but now... now I don't even know who he is anymore."

"I really don't have any reasonable explanation for this, except that all of this might be an act to lure you into his life and keep you with him forever."

She had so many questions, but before she could voice another one, a sudden realization hit her. "I need to leave for school."

"Can you not skip a day?" He asked her quietly.

He was enjoying their conversation more than he had expected. For once, he wasn’t the persona people saw in his world—he was simply Mikhail, talking to her as he had never done with anyone, irrespective of having to face some uncomfortable question. He wanted her to know the real him.

"No, it will not be right. I cannot let my students suffer."

"I understand. You really are a good teacher. I will drop you off, though."

"You don't have to," she protested, her eyes shifting away from him, a mix of gratitude and unease crossing her features.

"I want to," he said, a quiet insistence in his voice as if it were the one thing he could offer to make things feel a little safer, a little more right.

Her eyes met his, but they were clouded with worry. "And what about Anatoly?"

"If he asks anything, tell him that I forced you into the car. Put the blame on me."

She shook her head, her voice quiet but filled with concern. "He will come after you, Mikhail. He’s not as weak as he looks."

"I can handle him, Tabitha. Just tell my dearest brother that I am manipulating you, threatening you with both him and our mother. That’s all you need to say."

She shook her head, the fear in her voice palpable. "He won’t believe it."

Mikhail's eyes narrowed, a cold edge creeping into his tone. "Oh, he will. Trust me. None of them holds me in high regard, and I’ve already threatened my mother with Anatoly's life."

"Were you serious about it?"

Deep down, she couldn’t shake the feeling that Mikhail would never intentionally harm his family.

"No," he gave a frustrated sigh. "I am not cruel, Tabitha. Killing is never on my agenda unless I absolutely have to. It’s not easy to live with guilt, and I’d rather avoid it if I can."

"Sorry,"

"Why?"

"I… I’m frustrating you."

"I am more frustrated with myself. I have royally screwed up with you, and I don't want you to think the worst of me, more than you already do."

Tabitha remained silent at his response, unsure how to respond to him. She had so many questions, so many doubts, yet every conversation seemed to only deepen the distance between her and Mikhail.

He let out a heavy sigh as if the weight of their unspoken words was too much to bear. "We have a long way to go," he said, his voice quieter, the disappointment in his tone unmistakable. "Come on, I’ll take you home, and from there, I’ll drop you off at work."