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Valentina sinks deeper into the sand, and I watch the last rays of sunlight flicker out. I don’t like talking about what comes next. It enters personal territory, and that’s a place I keep out of reach, even for myself.
I don’t like to go there. Ever.
For the first time in a long time, I feel my mouth curve down, and I already hate it. But the beautiful woman by my side asked a question, and although I could deflect or tell a lie, I made a promise.
No secrets. Not between us.
I take a breath to stall for time. I’m tempted to pull Valentina’s face to mine and bury our problems beneath that kiss I keep thinking about. I bet it would be mind-blowing to get my lips on hers. To soothe our aches with each other’s bodies and pretend our battered bruises and scars don’t exist.
If we get lost in each other, we won’t have to dig up the past. We won’t have to have this conversation, or any others like it.
But Valentina’s eyes pull me in, the confusion and pain etched within making part of me bleed with her.
That’s new. I usually don’t give a fuck about others’ pain.
But Valentina’s . . . makes me uncomfortable.
I draw another breath and try to detangle the chaos that is Tolkotsky in bite-sized pieces for her to understand. “You may have known Tolkotsky as a father figure, but I knew him as a pakhan. He was ruthless when it mattered most, especially when it came to how he ran the Bratva. Every pakhan demands loyalty, but your father had a . . . flair about it.” I clench and unclench my jaw as memories rise to the surface. Bad ones. But if Valentina is going to understand what happened to her mother, she needs to know what happened to my father.
“I knew this guy, once. Best in his sector. A leader that everyone looked up to. Your father respected him enough to make him head of our properties division. It’s a high-ranking position that requires a lot of knowledge about the city and its districts. And how much they’re worth.” I pause to make sure Valentina is paying attention. When she meets my eyes, I continue. “Well one day, he decided he’d had enough of Bratva life. But the thing is, once you’re in, there’s only one way out.”
“Death,” Valentina murmurs.
I nod. “So this guy, he wants out, right? He has access to hundreds of properties within the city and all their stats. Property values, equity, market rates, maintenance reports, everything. He gets the bright idea to sell some not just the info, but the properties themselves to a rival family. This would have given him quick cash to get out of the city while also undermining Tolkotsky’s influence within his own territory. If he acted fast enough, the money would have helped him escape. The trick is, he had to be really fast.” I turn my gaze toward the sea, letting a shiver roll down my spine.
In the end, my father wasn’t smart enough, or quick enough, to pull off his grand plan.
“Anyone trying to undermine or overthrow Tolkotsky was sentenced to die one way or another. If not a swift death, then a painful one. This man’s fate was much the same as all the others who tried before him.”
I remember the night vividly. The look of relief on my father’s face when he saw it was me who came for him. How he tried to coax me into leaving with him. Said he did it for our family, to give us a better life.
Please. He was ready to bolt while my mother and sister sat in the other room, completely unaware of his plan and the half-packed suitcase full of his belongings.
When Andrei seemingly materialized from the shadows behind me, however, my father turned white as a ghost. Started stuttering apologies. How he didn’t know who the buyers were or what their plans were for the properties or the city. Claiming that he wanted to turn a profit for the Bratva, of course, nothing more.
The lies were pitiful, falling from his lips like shards of glass, each one cutting deeper than the last.
When his words failed to move Andrei, my father turned back to me, red-faced and spitting mad. You brought him here, didn’t you, brought him here to watch me die and carry the news back to that bastard!
Tolkotsky was a cruel man, yes. But my father was a cowardly piece of shit, when it came down to it.
I’d rather he have faced death with dignity, instead of cowering like a scared animal.
Shooting him in the back of the head was a mercy he didn’t deserve.
“What does that have to do with my mother’s burial?” Valentina asks, crossing her arms.
It’s simpler than she realizes, and she’s not going to like it.
“That man was labeled a traitor, Valentina. Not only was he killed for it, but he was never buried.”
Whether someone is a traitor doesn’t matter. It sets a precedent for others.
Don’t fuck over the Bratva.
Don’t fuck over your true family.
Valentina may not realize it, but leaving Andrei at the altar and ditching the Bratva brought her dangerously close to traitor territory. It’s only by the grace of her bloodline and Andrei’s interception that Valentina’s father, and our Bratva, didn’t disown her for it.
