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They strolled across the grounds of the Sokolov Estate, the older man leaning on Mikhail’s arm for balance. Vasili smiled up into the sunshine, the light filling every tired line of his face. He stopped along the well-worn path and took in a deep breath.
“There is nothing quite like the desert air,” he said in a rasping voice. “And it tastes even sweeter knowing that it all belongs to me.”
“You’ve earned every bit,” Mikhail affirmed. “This town is yours because you were the one strong enough to fucking take it.”
Vasili lifted a shaking hand to pat Mikhail’s muscular arm. “And soon to be yours, my son. The day we have been planning for is drawing closer.”
“How are you feeling, Father?” Mikhail questioned. “Really?”
The elderly man shrugged his bony shoulders. “My body is weak. I feel death waiting for me around every corner. But we’ve known for a long time that this would happen. I have accomplished what I intended to do with my years on Earth. There are only a few things I have left to do, and I will see to it that they happen.”
“I will do whatever you ask of me,” Mikhail offered. “Whatever it takes.”
“I know, my son. Your mother and I raised one hell of a soldier,” Vasili said proudly. “If only she could see you now. You’re not the reckless, rowdy young buck you once were. You have grown into the kind of man who deserves to carry the Sokolov name and legacy. My men will be lucky to call you Pakhan.”
Mikhail only nodded, a look of reverence on his face. Vasili went on.
“We’ve gone over the details for my funeral many times. But as you know, death is only the beginning for you. I will turn to ash, but you will live on,” he said, his tone oddly casual. “There will be no tears at my graveside. I do not want a mourner’s pity as they lower me into the ground. My funeral is only a precursor to the real event: the ceremony in which you will become Pakhan. I will die with my dignity intact, and you will do as we always planned.”
“Of course. I will not let you down,” Mikhail swore.
“Once the plans are laid, I will have nothing to keep me from meeting death face to face. I will gladly go to my grave knowing that my son, my men, and my legacy are preserved,” he replied, stroking his chin thoughtfully. “You will live through stranger times than I have. The old rivalries are changing. The landscape is different now. And nothing rocks the boat like the death of its captain. We must do… difficult things to keep afloat.”
Mikhail groaned, knowing where he was headed.
“It is a pity that death will keep me from attending my son’s wedding,” said Vasili. “And yet, perhaps it is a blessing that I won’t live to see you marry a Baranov.”
Mikhail’s hands clenched at his sides. It was hard work trying to hide his disgust. He had been raised with the constant reminder that the Baranovs were sworn enemies of the Sokolovs. The Baranov name was synonymous with treachery, deception, and weakness. He thought of them as pests, something to be eliminated. Most of the time, they weren’t stupid enough to cross his path. Though the two dynasties had been at war for longer than anyone could remember, it was clear who held the upper hand. Mikhail grew up as the heir of the most powerful man in the state, and everything about his upbringing was designed to make him succeed at it. Learning to despise the Baranovs was as integral to his training as the martial arts and weapons he had mastered. He had always assumed that being Pakhan meant open season on the Baranovs. Mikhail had expected a bloodbath, maybe even looked forward to it.
And now, he was being asked to make nice. It grated against every instinct in his body.
“My vision may be less than it used to be, but I can still see that look on your face,” Vasili pointed out astutely.
Mikhail shook his head. “You know my loyalty is beyond questioning. You know I would do anything for you, Father. Anything for the brotherhood.”
“Da, and that is why I know you will marry the Baranov girl as intended,” Vasili said. “Don’t worry, Mikhail. At the end of the day, a woman is a woman. Her last name may be drenched in filth, but she’ll fuck just the same.”
Mikhail stared off into the distance. He had no idea what the Baranov girl even looked like, but it didn’t matter. This was not a marriage of love, but of diplomacy. It was a truce, an understanding of sorts. Mutually assured destruction in the shape of holy matrimony.
Vasili continued, “In fact, you might find it convenient to have a wife you don’t have to impress. One fewer item on your to-do list. Without that distraction, you will have more time for your work. Now, your mother, Irina; she was something else. Something special. A woman who deserved the world.”
“She certainly deserved better than the Baranovs gave her,” Mikhail replied through gritted teeth. Vasili’s smile faded to a haunted expression. Old emotions bubbled up behind his icy eyes, but he buried them down deep once again.
“No use pressing your finger in the wound,” Vasili answered in a low voice. “Besides, we can never go back. We can never know for certain who killed your mother.”
Mikhail’s anger flared intensely. He scoffed. “It doesn’t matter what they say. I’ve seen myself how easy it is to tamper with evidence or fabricate a crime scene. You and I know the truth, even if the Baranovs are too cowardly to admit it.”
Vasili seemed to straighten up a little, getting taller and more imposing, with a hint of his old dominance shining through. He stared into Mikhail’s eyes. “Your feelings are dangerous, my son. Don’t let emotion cloud your judgment. Not now, and not after I’m gone. You don’t have to love the Baranov girl; you only have to marry her.”
Mikhail flashed back to the other night at the Desert Pearl. He heard his own words echoing in his head:I would sooner die than call the Baranovs family. The thought of eating those words made him sick. But he was a dutiful son and eager to ascend to power. If taking a wife from the rival side was his destiny, he would meet it head-on.
Just as he was about to tell his father that, the pair were interrupted.
“Sir!” shouted one of Vasili’s Avtoritets, a foot soldier who worked security and intel across the state. Vasili’s butler was trying and failing to hold the man back as he fought to get to Vasili and Mikhail with a look of concern on his face.
The butler had him by the collar and was trying to keep him from disturbing the Sokolovs on their stroll. But he was an older man, and the young soldier was stronger.
“Let him come,” Vasili told the butler, who reluctantly released him and strolled back into the house.
