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She loops her arm through Andrei’s, who looks stunned, as we join them outside. The bulky masses of dark metal conceal their occupants from view and harm as they reverberate over the gravel drive. The ten SUVs park in a straight line in front of the mansion. The monstrous vehicles stir a sickly chill that settles on my skin.
The wind picks up as if on cue, and strands of Sonya’s hair fly up in the air, framing her delighted face. She beams at the fit men who slowly exit the vehicles. Her pride is unmistakable as she surveys the Bratva that she now controls.
I think she’s a thoughtless fool to have brought them here.
Sonya smirks at Andrei’s wary expression. “You didn’t think I was going to leave them behind? Maybe this is why Gleb wanted me so bad.”
She walks forward to a huge man who dwarfs her. He looks to be around his mid-twenties with curly brown hair bordering on blond. His shoulders are broad in his neatly pressed suit, and he doesn’t wear a tie.
Once upon a time, he might have been approachable, but his mouth is set in a permanent, severe scowl. The man stares at Andrei, refusing to make the first move. He keeps his hands at his sides.
But Sonya smiles as if they’ve all run into each other at her favorite coffee shop. She takes hold of the man’s hand, leading him toward us. “Andrei, this is Lazar Smirnova. He is one ofmybrigadiers.”
At that moment, I swear the wind stops blowing, and the surrounding ambient noises in the woods cease around us. The instinctual hate in Andrei’s eyes is definitely not my imagination. How long can I hold my breath, wondering what he will do next?
I feel myself trembling inside. These are the same men that tried to kill Andrei, probably killed my mother, and maybe even Kenney. They’re the men that ruined my family.
How can I welcomeanyof them into my home?
I sense Dmitri standing by my side and then feel his hand clamp down on my fist. His fingers squeeze my tightly clenched fist until I can release it. I look up at him and see his lips press hard together as his gaze flicks across each man before him. He does his best to hide his disgust, but I can see it there because I feel it too. I pull away and then clasp my hands together.
Dmitri looks at me, giving me a small nod, and we understand one another.
Vanya steps outside and comes to an abrupt halt. He stumbles but catches himself before he falls down the stairs. The shock of what he is seeing trips him up—the Karamazov men standing by their vehicles, and no one fighting.
Will he pull out his gun and start shooting whether Andrei orders it or not?
A man who is as short as he is wide empties one of the SUVs, piling Sonya’s ten-piece LV luggage set in front of the stairs. He steps away, leaving it there.
“Vanya, take it upstairs,” orders Andrei. I hope he doesn’t see the look on Vanya’s face as Vanya reaches for the first bag.
“Where will they stay?” I whisper to Dmitri.
“Far from us, I hope,” he mumbles. “If I had my way, I’d march them into the woods right now.”
I stare at the men again, not even bothering to conceal my contempt. Andrei seems to forget how many men they’ve killed. Rarely does a day go by that I don’t think about Oleg. He was my first guard and the kindest to me.
And one of these men killed him.
“Will you talk to him?” I ask. “I don’t want to be terrified in my own bed.”
“There’s little I can say.” He frowns as Andrei finally shakes hands with Lazar. “This is a big win for Andrei. One day, he will have control of this Bratva too.”
“What about Sonya?” I ask. Her wide smile could eclipse the sun as she introduces each man to Andrei, walking down the line and showing them off.Her killer soldiers for life.
“To lead a Bratva is like riding a tiger,” Dmitri grumbles under his breath. “The smartest thing she did was run away. She didn’t go far enough.”
Andrei glances over at us, and disapproval flashes in his eyes. I wonder if he can hear us.
I hope he can. I don’t shrink away or hunch my shoulders in shame. I have done nothing wrong. I don’t want this. Not any of it.
The war should be over. And now it’s arriving on my very doorstep.
“I don’t want them here,” I tell Dmitri. I won’t lower my voice and hope my words carry.
Sonya glances over, and the sharp look she gives me lets me know how much she has changed. The bright, fun girl I met last spring is gone. Does she think the same thing when she looks at me? The Bratva has changed both of us. I’m the pakhan’s wife, and now she’s a pakhan in her own right—leading one of the most dangerous Bratvas on the East Coast.
Unlike mine, her father would be proud to know what she’s become.
