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36
MISHKA
My pain and guilt over what Sascha endured shift to protective fury in an instant when Alina releases a soft gasp of pain. She pales as a small cut opens beneath the blade he’s holding against her throat.
A trickle of blood rolls down her creamy flesh.
And that’s all it takes for me to see red again.
“You’re my brother, Sascha, but I’m warning you. Do not hurt her,” I say, my voice flat and deadly. My muscles quiver with the need to reach her, to whisk her from danger.
Sascha sneers. “Why? Has my baby brother not just fallen into bed with the enemy but fallen in love with them as well?”
I clench my jaw, my teeth aching with the intensity of my rage. “You’re mad at me, and I get that. But don’t take your anger out on Alina.”
Sascha scoffs. “You really are just a Sakharov dog now, aren’t you? You know, when I first saw you with them, I thought you must have something up your sleeve—a plan to crush the family and avenge me, avenge our clan. You’ve always had a good mind for strategy, and a bold streak. And though Damien doubted you, I was so confident, so proud of the brother I thought I knew better than anyone.”
How long has Sascha been watching me? And he never bothered to face me himself. He never tried to reach out, to tell me he was alive. Why? Because I was working for the Sakharovs? Or is it something else?
“You were watching me from the start?” I demand. “When I first infiltrated the Sakharovs?”
Sascha shrugs. As if the timing of it hardly matters.
But to me, it means everything. Because I’ve spent months mourning the loss of a brother I could have been there for this whole time.
“I saw you dragging Sergio’s daughter from the wreckage the night we ambushed his train of cars.”
So, that was Sascha too. It was all Sascha. How could I have been so blind? “Why didn’t you tell me you were alive! What, were you testing me? Seeing how deeply your loss impacted me? If I was miserable enough to be worthy of knowing you survived? What? You couldn’t decide whether you wanted to put me out of my misery or not? Is that it?”
Hurt clashes with guilt, leaving me struggling to reconcile who’s responsible for shouldering the blame right now.
“Something like that. Yeah,” Sascha says coldly. “After all, you left me to die. I’m glad I chose to wait and watch. Because now, I can see you for the weak child you’ve always been,” he continues, his tone biting with contempt. “You didn’t need me. You didn’t care about having a brother. All you want is a master who can tell you when to sit, lie down, roll over, and die.”
I shake my head, ready to throw out a retort. But he steamrolls me, on a rampage of self-righteous indignation. I’m starting to realize this is not the brother I grew up with. Far from it. He’s so far down the path of resentment and revenge, he’s willing to take down anyone he even thinks might stand in his way.
“You’ve only ever gone with the flow, baby brother, always needing my protection. Well, I’m tired of looking after you. You feel no loyalty at all in return, so why should I? I lost a true brother tonight—a man who stuck by my side. He was there through my agony of surviving third- and fourth-degree burns on more than seventy percent of my body. While my bones were healing and I couldn’t even get out of a hospital bed. That brother died tonight, fighting for a cause you turned your back on. You forgave Sergio after the man wiped your entire clan off the face of this earth. And why? He wanted a stronger hold on his territory. Because Sergio Sakharov hates competition.”
Alina shudders beside Sascha, her cheeks deathly pale. My fear for her safety is suddenly overcome by my concern that she’s hurt worse than I realized until now. Did he do something to her while I was still unconscious?
I spot the purple hand-shaped bruises starting to rise on her throat now, and anger seethes inside me. Whoever this man before me is, he’s not the Sascha Orlov I knew at all. My brother would never lay his hands on a woman. Yes, he had a temper. We both do after growing up with the father we had, but Sascha always knew how to control that anger. He could channel it far better than I ever learned to. This new version of him is more violent, cruel.
“Clearly, you’ve strayed far from the man you once were, Mishka,” Sascha says, almost as if he’s plucked the words I would have said about him from my mind.
The statement draws my eyes back to Sascha, even as my fear for Alina intensifies. I watch him closely, sensing his bluster drawing to a close. He’s getting to the point of why he’s here, and the hair stands up on the back of my neck. What will happen to Alina?
“Still, you are my brother, and blood matters,” Sascha says. “So, I’m giving you a choice.”
“What kind of choice?” I ask cautiously, my suspicion growing.
“Me or Alina Sakharov. You can’t have us both.”
Is he seriously suggesting that one of them will die tonight?
The possibility of losing either of them horrifies me. I’ve already lost Sascha once. I don’t know that I’m strong enough to lose my brother a second time. And Alina is my life, my reason for being. Without her, I wouldn’t want to exist.
I can’t make that choice.
Not when the only two people I ever loved in this world are sitting before me. Alive.
