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“He wasn’t, only he pushed at the wrong time.” She sighs and shakes her head. “You can’t go on like this.”
“I can and I will.”
She grabs my wrist suddenly. She squeezes it hard and leans in close. “Take out your gun and shoot yourself in the face then. Do it now and do it quick. Do it for me and your sisters and your brothers. Don’t make us suffer along with you. Don’t make us watch you kill yourself slowly.”
I recoil. She releases my wrist and I stare at her in horror. She stares back, the Pakhan’s wife. Dark and freezing cold. My mother is an ice witch, and I love her dearly, but god damn, she is terrifying sometimes. I laugh bitterly and sip my drink.
“You would’ve made a good Pakhan yourself, Mom.”
“I know that, dear.” She keeps watching. “You admitted you can’t go on like this forever. You’re not going to end this quickly, either. So what will you do, Maxim? Are you so weak that you’ll do nothing?”
I clench my jaw. “I am not weak.”
“Aren’t you? This is weakness. You’re wallowing in self-pity. It’s pathetic.”
“Mother.”
“What are you going to do, Maxim? You say you love Siena. What will you do about it?”
“I don’t know,” I say, my voice a sharp growl.
“Go get her, my stupid, stupid son. Stop this self-destruction. Go get her.”
My eyes go wide. My pulse races. “What are you saying?”
“You can’t live without her, so go live with her.”
“Father will kill us both. I won’t do that to her. I won’t be that selfish.”
“Maybe,” she admits. “But your father is a businessman. Give him a reason to spare your lives.”
I mull on that for a moment. Maybe I’m drunker than I realized, but I feel a strange, sharp warmth in my stomach. I don’t recognize it at first—but it’s hope.
She’s right about my father. He’s a businessman. The bratva comes first, before everything and anyone. For my father, it’s the bratva, then God, then family. He’ll do anything for the business, and that might mean making a concession to his former heir and adopted child.
But it’s a major risk. This is all assuming I can think of a way to make Father forgive what I did enough to let me and Siena live. If I can’t, he’ll hunt me down, cut Siena’s throat in front of me, and put a bullet in my head himself. He’ll kill her, and that’ll be a worse fate than death.
I can’t have her blood on my hands. But I can’t live without her by my side.
“What will you do, Maxim?” Mother watches me carefully. She sips her vodka. “Can you keep going like this?”
“No,” I whisper, looking down at my hands.
I see Siena again in my mind, bending over in the bathroom, a shy smile on her face as she pulls on a pair of black lacy panties. I’d do anything to have her back.
Can I do this? Can I really take this risk?
I’ve done harder. My life’s stained with the blood of my enemies. I’ve killed for my bratva and worse. This is a problem that has a solution, and all I have to do is find it. All I need to do is figure out what my father will accept.
The bartender comes over and holds the bottle of vodka in his hands.
Another drink. One more drink to numb the pain.
My mother’s eyebrows raise.
I don’t need to be numb. Not anymore. I wave the bartender away. He shrugs and walks off. I finish the dregs of my drink and suck on a half-melted ice cube. I roll it around my tongue and let the bitter, sharp alcohol and the freezing cold coat my mouth and throat.
“I’m going to find her,” I say to the bar. “You’re right, Mother. I can’t live without her. So I won’t.”
