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Taking Luna out to that restaurant was stupid. It started as a way to appease Mariya. My little sister cares about Luna. I thought I could use Luna to get through to her.
Then Luna walked towards me in that red dress and every ulterior motive in my head disappeared. I wanted to take her out. I wanted people to see her on my arm and know that she was mine.
But if I’d known Akim had put a target on my back, I never would have risked taking Luna in public. I never would have risked her safety.
I’d rather she be alive and hate me than die liking me. The same goes for Mariya.
It’s not my job to be liked. My job isn’t to be anyone’s brother or friend or boyfriend. My job is to protect them. All of them. Nik, Mariya, Luna…
Whatever it takes.
If Akim wants a war, I text back, then we’ll give him one.
I place my phone on the bedside table. When I lie back in bed, Luna shifts closer to me. Her fingers splay across my chest.
“You’re warm,” she murmurs sleepily. I don’t move, but she rests her head on my shoulder. “Is everything okay?”
No, I want to say. Nothing has been okay for a long time.
Not since the moment that gun went off and my father dropped to his knees.
Not since Luna walked up to me at the restaurant, nervous and gorgeous and complicated and so fucking wrong for me.
Shit has been fucked for a long time.
“It will be soon.” I kiss her forehead. “Go back to sleep.”
Luna curls against my side and does just that. I fall asleep to her steady breathing.
48
YAKOV
It’s barely six in the morning when I step into the hall, but there’s already light coming from under Mariya’s door. Or, still light coming from under her door.
Jetlag hit her hard the first few days, but she’s adjusted back to the stereotypical teenage circadian rhythm just fine. Up all night, sleep all day, rinse, and repeat.
I planned to talk to her about what happened yesterday with the scrawny waiter in the alley some other time. Preferably once I’ve scrubbed the image from my mind. But I’m feeling more patient now than normal, so it’s as good a time as any.
I open the door. She’s lying on her bed, her phone perched on her bent knees. She doesn’t move except for the flick of her eyes to the door. “I could have been naked.”
“You aren’t.”
“I could have been, though.”
“Then lock your door if you don’t want people barging in.”
She arches a brow, looking every bit like our mother. “Okay. Leave and I’ll make sure I lock it next time.”
I’ve survived assassination attempts. I’ve killed men armed to the teeth with my bare hands. A teenage girl is not going to be the death of me.
But she is sure as fuck going to try.
I close the door behind me and cross my arms. “We need to talk.”
“Uninterested,” she drawls, never taking her eyes from her phone.
Luna told me to be gentle with Mariya. To spend time with her.
