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30
Kira stood at the window of the brownstone with her phone in her hand. Outside, a couple of children rode scooters on the pavement under a steely sky. Every now and then a gust of wind blew down the street, relieving the trees of a few more remaining leaves.
She sighed and looked at the burner phone Lyon had given her when they got to New York. They’d been in Brooklyn for three days and she still wasn’t sure what to do about her father. She needed to call him, to make sure he was okay and let him know she was safe, but she didn’t want to put him in danger.
She didn’t know if Lyon’s exile status applied to her — was being his wife considered providing him assistance? — but she knew it would apply to her father. It seemed cruel that she wouldn’t be able to contact him. A conversation with his daughter was hardly assistance to Lyon.
Exile orders were so rare she wasn’t sure about the details.
She weighed her options for a couple more minutes and came to the only question that mattered: what would her father want her to do?
The answer was easy: he would want to know she was safe.
She’d waited until Lyon was out with Alek to make the decision, but now she dialed the number, glad her father had always insisted on keeping a landline.
She put the phone to her ear.
“Baranov residence.” Galina’s accented voice was almost enough to make Kira weep.
“Lina? It’s me. I need to speak to my father.”
“Kira? Is that you?” Lina’s voice had dropped to almost a whisper.
“I’m fine,” Kira said. “Don’t worry. Can I speak to him?”
“Hold on.”
She heard the sound of the phone being put down, then Lina’s retreating footsteps as she went to get Kira’s father. A few moments later there was a click on the line, and then, blessedly, the deep baritone of her father’s voice.
“Kira, where are you?”
The other line clicked as Lina hung up the phone.
“I… I can’t say,” Kira said. “I just wanted you to know I’m safe.”
“I’ve been so worried,moya zolotaya.” Her father paused to cough, and she wondered if it was her imagination that his breathing sounded labored. “Lyonya has made a grave error. You must come home and tell the Spies you were not involved, that you wish to annul your marriage immediately.” His distress was evident in his shaking voice.
“There’s more to the story than you’re hearing, Papa.” And more than even she knew.
“What more can there be, Kira? By disrupting the flow of goods at the Port, he’s cost the bratva money. He’s stolen from us all,” her father said. “You know this isn’t permitted, not even in retaliation for the fire at Samara.”
She turned away from the window and leaned against the sill, her eyes scanning the brownstone’s comfortable living room. Like the lake house, it was cozy and inviting, full of books and soft furniture and warm light. Like the lake house, it belonged to Lyon.
“I know,” she said into the phone. “But… I can’t go into it now. I can only say that Lyon did what he thought was best.”
There was a long pause before her father spoke again. “You have gotten too close, Kira. You must think carefully now, consider your strategy. Whatever you do next will have lasting consequences for you.”
“I know.”
He was right. She was at a fork in the road: throw her lot in with Lyon’s or go her own way, return to Chicago and have her marriage annulled, beg the Spies for understanding.
But then she would be back to square one: her father without power. Worse, Musa would probably take control of the bratva. No one else had risen to fight for it.
She imagined the organization under Musa’s leadership — a man who saw Russians and Chechens as enemies instead of partners — and shuddered. There would be war, and it wouldn’t be a war of two men.
It would be a civil war, one that would tear the organization apart. One that would leave them vulnerable to the FBI.
And there was another thing: she didn’t want to leave Lyon. Couldn’t stomach the idea of walking away from him, leaving him to face the wolves alone. Couldn’t imagine returning to the version of her life that didn’t include his mysterious eyes, the strength of his arms, his body moving inside her.
