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“Mischa!” I start after him, forced to run to match his pace. Of all the things to prickle through my nerves now, guilt shouldn’t be one of them. “Wait!”
He makes me chase him into the foyer, ignoring me every step of the way.
“Mischa.” I pant. “Mischa, wait—”
Suddenly, he stops short before the staircase and extends his hand toward me.Quiet.
Beyond him, I finally notice the two other figures already in the foyer, their voices raised.
“Are you insane?” a man demands. His tone radiates so much raw anger that I barely recognize it at first. Only as I follow Mischa’s gaze do I realizeVanyais the one shouting. “Have you lost your goddamn mind, Sergei?”
“Have you, Ivan?” In chilling contrast, Sergei’s tone is eerily level. “I’m doing what must be done to protect our name.”
“Our name? Or your pride?”
“Why can’t it be both?”
“Something tells me that this is more than a brotherly squabble,” Mischa says, stepping forward.
It’s clear from his positioning near Vanya just whose side of the argument he favors out of the gate.
“What’s going on?”
“Have you told him? Yourleader?” Vanya demands of Sergei. When the latter says nothing, he scoffs. “Of course not. Sergei has called a council tonight in a bid to reinstate himself as acting head. The Pakhan.”
From Mischa’s fierce expression, it’s clear he doesn’t approve of such a plan.
“Is that so?” he murmurs, deadly soft. “On what grounds?”
“On the grounds that you are too reckless to lead,” Sergei says—but his gaze cuts in my direction. “Among other reasons. Themafiyaneeds stability if there is to ever be peace—”
“Peace?” Vanya spits on the floor at his feet. “You spout peace but forget the Winthorps—you’re starting a fucking war within your own goddamn ranks!”
“Am I?” Sergei shrugs. “Perhaps. Perhaps not.”
“In the end, this is just pointless.” Vanya throws his hands into the air. “Tell him, Mischa!”
“Ivan has a point,” Mischa says. “You may have your sway, Sergei, but I doubt that you could even muster enough support for a leadership change regardless.”
“Perhaps.” Sergei nods. “In any event, my main intent is beyond a respectful challenge.”
“Oh?” Mischa says before Vanya can bite back.
“Yes. I’d like to elect a new head to the table—”
“Of course you would,” Vanya interjects. “Have you learned nothing all these years? Or are you still so fond of your dirty tricks? Which fool have you groomed to be your whipped dog now?”
“Someone who has more say in ending this war than anyone,” Sergei says, inclining his head.
“Oh? And who is that?” Vanya demands.
“The obvious choice: Ellen Winthorp.”
“What?”
All three men turn to me, but Mischa’s gaze draws my attention the most. He’s guarded again in an instant—closed from me in a way he hasn’t been since…
Never. Not even the first day, when he ripped off my blindfold and only saw an enemy.
