Chapter 67 Episode 67
1605 Words
His jaw hardens, and for the first time, I see why people usedto say we looked alike. “I couldn’t throw my life away,” hewhispers. “I had you and your mom to think about.”
I snort. “You never spared a single f*****g thought for us.”
He lunges forward and clasps my hand in his. “The two of youare all I ever thought about, Nikolai. Ever. It’s the only reasonI stayed in the Bratva at all.”
He shakes his head. “I didn’t want to live that life. It was myfather’s dream, not mine. I wanted to get out and forge my
own path, but… I met your mom.”
“Don’t tell me she wanted you to stay in. Don’t blame her.Don’t lie to me with that shit.”
My mom died before I ever had a chance to ask her about herearly years, how our family formed. Then my father left. So bythe time I had questions, there was no one around to answerthem.
“No.” He puts one wrinkled finger in the center of my chest.“She got pregnant with you. And I needed the money theBratva could offer. The dependability. It wasn’t the time tostrike out on my own.”
“Not just because she was pregnant,” he insists hastily. “I’mnot honorable enough to marry her just because I knocked herup. No, I would have married her anyway. I loved her. I knewit from the moment we met.” He runs a hand through histhinning hair. “I’ve never loved anyone the way I loved her.She was all I needed. The only thing that mattered. When theBratva collapsed and we were broke, it didn’t matter as long asI had her. And as long as we had you.”
But it’s all bullshit. If any of that was true, he wouldn’t haveleft. He would have stayed.
He ignores me and continues. “But then she got sick. And Icouldn’t do a damn thing to protect her from it.”
This part I know from experience. Mom got diagnosed anddied six months later. It was fast and heartless and brutal, justlike everything else in this world.
“It broke me,” he whispers hoarsely. “And I know I let youdown, but… at the time, I saw me leaving as a benefit to you.What did I have to offer you?”
“You could have rebuilt the Bratva,” I suggest. “Or tried, atleast. You could have tried to restore our family name. Donesomething to make Mom proud. You could’ve done anythingbut what you did.”
“That kind of thing wasn’t me,” he sighs. “I would have failed.Probably brought more Battiato attention to your doorstep. No,if anything, I was going to be a burden around your neck. Ifigured leaving was for the best.”
I offer him a dramatic slow clap. “You’re so selfless.Abandoning your pre-teen child so you can go shoot up day inand day out to run away from your problems. You’re a fuckinghero. They should build statues of you.”
He slumps forward. “Do you have a kid, Nikolai? Kids?”
“It doesn’t matter. You’ll never meet them.”
He winces like that was the harshest blow yet. I almost feelbad for him, but only in the way you feel pity for a bird thatflies into a window.
“I know you’ll never forgive me for what I did. Or didn’t do,”he adds. “But losing your mom broke me. We didn’t have themoney to get her the treatments she needed, and she wasalways better with you than I was. She knew how to talk toyou. When she was gone, I couldn’t make it work. And I’msorry for that.”
I’m not sure what I expected from him. He’s apologizing. Attimes in my life, that’s all I wanted from him. Recognition ofwhat he did. Remorse.
But it’s not enough now.
It will never be enough.
I wave him off and back towards the door. “Don’t be sorry.”
“Does that mean you forgive me?” he calls after me, a wildkind of hope in his eyes.
“f**k no,” I snort. “It means I refuse to be weak like you.”
I can’t wrap my mind about it.
As soon as Nikolai stormed out of the room last night, Istumbled back to my room and crawled into bed. I stared at theceiling, watching the shadows deepen and then fade away asdaylight streamed through the sheer curtains.
Now, it’s full morning, and I’m still lying in bed, staring up atthe ceiling.
“I should have said it back.”
My voice is raspy from lack of sleep and disuse, but my mindis as clear as it’s been in weeks.
Nikolai wanted me to respond. He wanted me to say it back.At least, I think he did. That’s what people want when theyconfess their feelings, right?
Simple. Uncomplicated. But things between me and Nikolaihave never been simple. We are complicated in every sense ofthe word.
“He loves me,” I say softly.
Hearing it out loud doesn’t help me make any more sense of it.Lying in bed and letting the day waste away isn’t helping,either. I need to take action. I need to keep moving forward.
I should get up and go talk to Elise. Last night was a lot for meto absorb, and I already knew about Nikolai leading the Bratvaand the mafias gunning for us. So Elise must have beenblindsided beyond belief by the violence she witnessed.
But I can’t go to her. Not now. Everything I thought I knewhas been turned upside down, and I’m in no state to offercomfort when I can’t even comfort myself.
Plus, it’s early. Hopefully she’s still sleeping. She needs therest.
I slip out of bed and grab my phone from the nightstand.Making a phone call when I don’t know if or where Nikolaihas cameras or bugs set up in my room is a big risk, but I’mout of options.
I step into the dark walk-in closet and leave the door crackedto let in a little ambient light from the main room. Then Inestle in amongst a rack of brand new clothes to hopefullydampen my voice.
“It’s me,” I say softly when the line clicks open.
There’s a sigh. “You’re alone?”
I frown. “I don’t think so. But… the two men you sent aredead. I don’t know what you heard about what happened, buthe killed them.”
“That’s what I get for not sending my best,” Xena says. Shedoesn’t sound especially put-out. More like she misplaced hercar keys than sent two of her own mafia members to theirdeaths.
After weeks of talking to her, I’m not too surprised. Fromwhat I can gather, living in this world—a hellscape filled withBratvas and mafias and death—skews your emotional rangetowards apathy. There’s too much horrible s**t going on all thetime to get upset about any of it.
“But you’re okay?” she adds.
I haven’t been “okay” since Iceland. Xena knows that. It’s whyshe stayed in touch even after she handed me two plane ticketsto Oklahoma City.
“I don’t want anything bad to happen to you,” she said the firsttime she called my phone. “If my brother thinks Nikolai is stillhung up on you, I don’t know what he’ll do. So you have totell me if Nikolai reaches out.”
“Can’t I just ignore him?” I had asked. Even though I’d hadmore than enough experience with the man, I was still naive.Somehow convinced it was possible to ignore NikolaiZhukova.
“No,” Xena said, “you can’t. If he reaches out again, let meknow. I’ll take care of it.”
Which is why, when Nikolai kidnapped me and brought meback to New York City, Xena was the only person I told. Isnuck her a message as soon as I could, and she came up witha plan within the hour.
“I’m so glad to hear from you,” she says now. “I hoped you’dcall, but I didn’t actually expect to hear from you so soon. Iexpected Nikolai to keep a closer eye on you.”
“He did. Or he would have, probably. Something came up.”
He confessed his love for me, and I stood there mute anddumbstruck.
“I’m not sure,” I lie. “But he’s out of the house. That’s why Icalled. Are we still good for everything?”
“Of course. We had a minor hiccup, but I promised I’d takecare of you.”
I hear the echo of Nikolai saying the same thing. Yesterdaymorning, I thought it was because I was pregnant. ThatNikolai only wanted to take care of me because I was carryinghis baby. It probably had something to do with his bloodlineand creating an heir or whatever-the-f**k. I was a means to anend.
But now? Now, I don’t know what I think.
“So the plan hasn’t changed?” I ask.
“No,” Xena says. “I’ll obviously need to orchestrate anotherpickup for you, but the plan is the same.”
New identities. A new life in Canada. Money to start over.
When Xena first suggested the idea, I shut it down. “I can’tmove to Canada. I’ve barely even been out of the Midwest,” Iargued.
“All the more reason to go,” Xena insisted. “It will make youharder to track. And believe me—you want to be difficult totrack.”
- Writer
