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Fuck this shit. “Timur, I cannot leave something this important to you to deal with alone. You don’t have the experience or the discipline to address the mafia and bratva councils, especially when tensions run high. I will be there, and we’ll handle it together.”
Timur’s ire is perceivable even from the other end of the phone. “Give my best to everyone,” he says, without feeling. “I’ll speak to you soon.”
I return to Lilyana’s side, and before I can say anything, she sinks her face into my shoulder.
“This is my fault,” she says. “This Moretti thing started because of me. If Vlad dies, I’ll never forgive myself.”
“Shut up, Lili.” Morgana’s sharp tone slices through the atmosphere like a razor blade. “You don’t get to make it about you. He’s my husband and the father of my child. What makes you think I have the fucking strength to worry about you too?”
Lilyana clings to me momentarily, but then she sits up straight, her voice firm. “Hey. That’s not fair. I’d never ask you to worry about me, but that’s what you’re doing because you care about everyone. We have to stick together.” She leans over the bed and puts her hand over Morgana’s. “Vladi needs us. All of us.”
With that, Morgana breaks, and Liliyana rushes to her as she sinks to the ground. The two women hold one another, and Morgana’s wretched sobs fill the room. Lilyana whispers to her to breathe and be steady, and I marvel at her ability to stay calm and comfort her sister-in-law during this crisis. My wife draws from a well of strength deeper than any of us realized.
The whole thing started because of me, not Lilyana. I was the one who lost my shit on Aldo Moretti. I refused to let Vlad take over and neutralize the threat before it got out of hand. I can only hope the commissions agree to call a ceasefire and demand the would-be assassin be turned over to them because this is now way beyond me and Lilyana. We’re on the verge of the war to end all wars.
Avel finally speaks. “There’s no one in charge now. Of our family or the komissiya. So that means you’re up, Arman.”
Everyone looks at me. Avel is right, but in the haze of fear and fury, it never crossed my mind.
“Of course,” I say. “I have no role in the komissiya—the leadership goes to Oleg—but if the worst happens, I’ll take charge of out bratva. That’s not a conversation for right now, though. Things may look a lot different in the morning.”
We lapse into silence, keeping our vigil. No petty concerns can enter here; there is nothing to do now but wait for Vlad to live or die.
Minutes drag, but hours fly by, punctuated by the beeps of the machines. Avel falls asleep on the floor, his head on his coat, and Sasha walks up and down like he’s on a looping program, his face set in stone. Even Morgana begins to flag, and Lilyana encourages her to take the easy chair, where she lapses into a fitful doze. Lilyana and I are still awake when my phone finally rings again.
“The commissions are assembled at Oleg’s home, and they wanna see you now,” Timur says. “But only you.”
“I’ll be there,” I say and hang up.
I stand by the hospital bed, my heart heavy with a sense of foreboding. Lilyana's wide gray eyes plead with me before she says a word.
“Don’t go. Not without me.”
“I have to, baby girl.” She reaches for me, and I kiss her palm. “Orders are orders. It’s gone beyond where it started—with both commissions present, I can speak for the family and demand they collaborate to find the piece of shit who tried to kill Vlad.”
Her expression is a jumble of emotions; fear, anger, love. I want nothing more than to stay by her side, to keep her safe and protected, the threat must be faced head-on.
"Lili, I have to do this," I say, my voice steeped in regret. "This ends with me."
Her anger flares, and she pulls her hand away from mine. "What about us, Arman? You’re gonna step straight into Vlad’s shoes and hope you don’t end up dead. What if something happens to you? Or to me?”
“We’ll stay together,” Sasha says. “Lili will be safe here. I almost hope the person responsible for this dares to stop by. If I get hold of them, I’ll take them apart.”
“Thank you.” I look at Vlad, pale and still beneath his bedsheet, and feel a stab of anguish deep in my chest.
I may never see him alive again.
Lilyana comes to me, and I wrap my arms around her.
“I’m sorry,” she says. “When this began, I thought you wanted to be pakhan and were using me to achieve it. How could I have believed that?”
“This world is dirty and brings out the worst in people,” I reply, leaning down to kiss her forehead. “That’s just a fact. Yet you brought out the best in me, and now I have a job to do for you and the family. Whether Vlad makes it or not, someone will fucking pay.”
She takes a shaky breath, her shoulders sagging with resignation. "I hate this. I hate that it’s come down to you."
"It’s my job, tsvetok."
She nods, her voice a soft whisper. "Just come back to me, Arman. That's all I want."
