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Does she…have PTSD? It doesn’t make sense for Adrian’s wife to have PTSD. She’s been married to him for more than five years, and she knows the way of the brotherhood. We’re not a nice bunch, by any means, and our lifestyle is high on the danger parameter.
Even the most sophisticated Vory women, like Mikhail’s wife and Anastasia, might tremble in fear, but they don’t start bawling or suffer from PTSD episodes. We were brought up on the sound of bullets.
Lia should be the same. She was there during Adrian’s assassination attempt at Mikhail’s birthday. She even helped Stella, Igor’s wife, gather the women in the basement, while I followed Adrian and Damien to catch the attempted assassin.
We found him shot in the back of his neck. Vlad and Adrian ran a thousand background checks using the guy’s picture but came up empty. To this day, we don’t know who tried to kill Adrian or who murdered the assassin.
Point is, Lia was completely calm during that time. It doesn’t make sense for her to have PTSD now.
“I’ll count to three and you join her, okay?” Kyle says so close to my ear, drawing shivers down my spine.
“Take backup,” I say.
“Worried about me, Princess?”
“You wish.” My murmur isn’t believable even to my own ears.
“No backup. You know I work better solo. Now, one, two…” He lifts his body over mine push-up style. “Three.”
He completely stands up and I do, too, bolting to where Lia is crouching. I turn around to insist that he takes guards, but there’s no sign of him.
That hotheaded man will be the death of me.
I mimic Lia’s position and gently touch her hand. It’s sweaty and cold. “Hey…Lia…do you hear me?”
At first, she doesn’t give any sign that she does, but then, slowly, her eyes flutter open and she stares up at me with tears in them.
“Hey, it’s okay.” I take her by the arm and slowly stand her up with me. “You’re okay.”
“I-I’m sorry…I didn’t mean to…”
“You don’t have to be sorry for something you can’t control, Lia.”
“P-please don’t tell Adrian about this.” She grabs my hand in both of hers. “Please.”
“I won’t for now, but he’ll eventually know. We were under attack, Lia.” Or maybe she was the target. After all, the red dot was on her forehead, not mine or anyone else’s.
I reach into my bag and give her a tissue. “Come on, wipe your face and let’s get inside, okay?”
She complies, but her expression remains half-horrified, half-shocked.
I dust my dress off, use a tissue myself, and then hold my head high and walk into the coffee shop. It doesn’t matter that my legs are still slightly shaking or that my mind is still outside where Kyle ran off to God knows where.
This brunch is my way to play a role in the brotherhood, and nothing will ruin this. I shoot a message to Katia and Ruslan to go after Kyle and hope that will be enough.
Inside, the women are completely oblivious to the spy-level show that just took place outside. Thank God.
The décor is cozy with multiple soft lights hanging down from the ceiling. I had my guards rearrange the seats so it’s a large sitting area instead of having separated, impersonal tables.
Everyone sits on the sofas, each cradling a drink. From our side, the women present are Anastasia, Lia, and Igor’s wife, Stella. Of course, Mikhail’s wife didn’t join because her husband is a bastard. As soon as he heard I arranged this meeting, he said she wasn’t feeling ‘well’, and then Damien snickered and whispered to me that he would send his wife over if he had one.
From the Italians’ side, there’s Sofia, Lazlo’s wife, Emilia, whom I had the displeasure of meeting outside, the underboss’s fiancée, and a few new faces I’m sure are Emilia’s friends or the leaders’ daughters.
The gathering goes well—for the most part. Lia spends the entire evening pale and shivering while Emilia keeps acting passive-aggressively toward me, taking any chance to make a jab, like asking Stella if I’m a good daughter-in-law.
Stella, graceful as usual, rubs my arm. “She holds an important role for all of us. Being a daughter-in-law is the least of her problems.”
Emilia huffs, obviously not expecting that answer.
“Thank you,” I whisper to Stella.
She smiles. “We stand up for each other.”
And with that, she excuses herself to go check on the kitchen. I don’t know whether that means approval or what, but Stella and Igor have always been a mystery. They keep their thoughts to themselves, so I’m never sure if it’s all a façade or genuine.
Unlike Emilia, Sofia seems to like me since she keeps talking to me the most among all of the women present.
Anastasia is her adorable, lovable self and is the perfect co-host. No one could hate that innocent, eager-to-please soul. She’s too good for this world.
