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“What?” Dani asks, startled as I scroll through the increasingly frantic texts asking me to come to the Veles house immediately.
The timestamp of the first message, 8:37 p.m.
“What’s wrong?” Dani repeats, coming to my side as I finish reading.
“I was supposed to be on call last night and didn’t hear my phone. Pyotr called. Something happened.” I snap into action, dropping my phone on the bed to quickly get dressed.
“Shit,” Dani whispers, her eyes round as she follows me around the room with her gaze. “What is it?”
“I don’t know exactly yet.” All I know is Silvia was in danger. “I’m sorry, but we have to go.”
“Okay,” Dani agrees, collecting her things quickly as I finish getting ready.
Flagging a taxi as soon as we’re out the door, Dani and I scramble inside. My leg bounces impatiently as we make our way across the bridge to Brooklyn, and Dani’s delicate hand rests on my knee.
“I’m sure it’ll be okay,” she whispers, trying to ease my anxiety.
Wrapping my fingers around hers, I lift her hand to press a kiss to her palm. And I will myself to believe her and stay calm. I feel absolutely awful, though. I was supposed to be available. I know the Veles family needs me now more than ever. And I owe everything to them. But I failed them by not picking up when they needed me.
And now, whatever the consequences, the guilt falls in my hands.
The taxi pulls over in front of Dani’s house first, and she presses a quick kiss to my cheek before slipping from the car. I only glimpse her worried expression as she turns back to watch the taxi pull away. Then we’re down the street and around the corner at the Veles grandiose brownstone.
I’m up the stairs and inside in an instant, Val scowling thunderously at the door.
“About fucking time,” he growls at me in Russian.
“Where is he?” I respond in our native tongue, not bothering to acknowledge his snippy comment.
“His office.”
I head there without another word, my heart frozen in my chest.
“Come in,” Pyotr commands, his voice gruff, when I knock on the door.
I step inside to find Pyotr’s council members occupying the room. Yuri Pachenko looks as nervous as ever. And Gleb scrutinizes me with green eyes, his emotions hidden behind an impenetrable wall.
The Matron, on the other hand, looks at me with cold disappointment, and it cuts me to the core. Because she’s the one who brought me to America and gave me this invaluable opportunity. And I have failed her. I can see it written plainly across her face.
“Will you excuse us a moment?” Pyotr requests of his council, and they rise without a word to file from the room.
Anger strains his tone, and when I finally dare to meet Pyotr’s steel gaze, I know he won’t be letting me off easy.
“I know that you and Val have had considerable extra duties, protecting Silvia and me until we can find enough guards we trust,” he states, his voice flat and cold. “But you agreed to the extra time, and I’m paying you handsomely for it. And when we needed you, you didn’t pick up. Where were you?”
“I am so sorry, Pakhan,” I state, coming to kneel before Pyotr, one arm resting on one knee, my head bowed in supplication. “Nothing can excuse my thoughtlessness.”
It’s a sign of respect and submission I’ve never done before. One reserved only for attempting to make amends after the most grievous of errors. Which is exactly what I see this as. Because my carelessness left Pyotr’s wife in danger.
The silence that follows is agonizing, and when I dare to look up, Pyotr appears struck to find me on my knee, his expression less furious and more twisted with conflict.
“You know you’re supposed to be available, even on your days off,” Pyotr presses, though his tone is far less angry now.
“I do,” I state, bowing my head once more.
“You could have cost Silvia her life,” Pyotr states coldly.
My gut knots. “May I… ask what happened,gospodin?” I murmur, keeping my eyes on the floor.
