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I let out a sigh then answer the question about the tattoo. “A tree symbolizes strength, and the roots are to remind me where I come from. The leaves blowing into the sky show there are no limits to what can be achieved.” I keep quiet for a few seconds, then add, “Anja is my sister's name.”
“The tattoo suits you.”
Silence falls between us again, and minutes pass before she asks, “Remember when you told my father to send the photo to St. Monarch’s?”
“Yeah?”
“What’s St. Monarch’s?”
I think of how to describe the place. “It’s an old castle that belongs to the retired head of the bratva.” I pause my explanation to ask, “Do you know what the bratva is?”
Cami turns around, so she’s facing me. “No. But I’m guessing it’s some kind of organization.”
“It’s the Russian form of the mafia,” I explain. Then I continue, “St. Monarch’s is neutral ground for anyone in the criminal world. It’s the one place where no killing is allowed. You can go for training to specialize in the field of your choice. The castle also has a resort, and weddings between rival families are sometimes held there to ensure no one dies.”
Her tone is soft as she asks, “Is that where you learned how to be an assassin?”
“Yes. They teach everything from weapons and fighting to hunting and eliminating a target.”
I’m surprised when she chuckles. “It sounds like Hogwarts for criminals.”
The corner of my mouth lifts. “Far from. They also handle every illegal contract and are more equipped than the FBI. St. Monarch’s is the heart of the criminal world.”
“There’s this whole other side of the world I never knew existed. It’s crazy,” she murmurs.
I turn my head, and we lock eyes. “Why doesn’t any of this freak you out?”
A smile tugs at her mouth. “Will it help if I freak out?” Before I can answer, she adds, “I think it’s because I got to know you a little before the bomb was dropped. I know I can trust you, making it a little less daunting.”
I glance up at the ceiling as her words fill my chest with more warmth.
“Good night, Max,” she whispers.
“Night.”
We lie in silence for a while, but she doesn’t fall asleep. She might not have freaked out, but the events of the night must’ve rattled the hell out of her.
“Come here,” I order, my tone softer than usual.
Cami sits up and pauses before hesitantly inching closer to me. I hold my arm open for her, and when her head rests on my shoulder, I pull her closer.
I listen to her breaths as her body relaxes against my side, then her frozen foot touches my ankle.
“Christ, you’re cold.”
“Cold feet, warm heart,” she mutters. “You’re warm, which explains your cold heart.”
I let out a chuckle. “That’s the biggest load of shit I’ve ever heard.”
Cami relaxes even more and lets her arm rest across my abs. My muscles tense from the innocent touch.
“Is this okay?” she asks.
No. Not by a long shot.
“Yeah,” I reply. “Sleep, Cami.”
She lets out a content sigh and fucking snuggles into my side.
