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“Yeah, I know. Not what I was expecting, but I don’t think the cops understand the scope of the murder yet. The faster they figure it out, the less time you have to pick up their slack,” Yan replies.
Misha was best at working most efficiently in the shadows, so his lack of notoriety in the police force isn’t surprising. Once they learn that he’s my brother, they’ll realize the scale of what they’re dealing with.
This whole situation has the potential to either burn out in my favor or get blown up by the ego of the police department. The potential of this never getting solved is there, especially since the cops don’t know where to look for the men holding the true power.
“We’ll have to watch this really carefully, but I’d already planned on doing that,” I say, gripping the phone a little tighter.
“I know, Ruslan. I can hear it in your voice. You’ve been up for almost two weeks stressing about this. It’s time for you to take a day off, let me handle the suspect, and get some proper sleep.”
I hate it when people tell me what to do. Yan has known this about me since I was a teenager. It’s even worse when I’m instructed to scale back my dedication to something I’m invested in. I’ve always been ambitious to my own detriment, and mixing in revenge is a one-way ticket to burnout.
I need to listen to him, but I still don’t want to.
“A whole day could cost us weeks of progress if things go the way you’re suspecting they will. I can’t afford the risk,” I say defensively. “Not only does it hold the potential to put me in the spotlight, but we could lose major ground on catching the ringleader if he senses things heating up.”
Yan sighs on the other end of the line, exasperated by the resilience of my ego and its counterpart, fear. “Ruslan, you’re going to give yourself a fucking heart attack. You’re not twenty-five anymore. You can’t drink, smoke, and stay up for days on end without doing major damage to your body, mind, and relationships. Ask me how I know.”
His voice is losing patience with me, but not in a demanding, authoritarian way. He’s lived this life just as I have been, and I know he’s suffered the consequences to hell and back. I watched his marriage fall apart when the drinking reached its peak, and the regret in his face for the next two years was immeasurable.
I’ve already lost Misha, and I have nobody else to hold close to me except for Yan and Vera.
Vera isn’t even a guaranteed constant in my life. I’d hate to deny Yan’s sage advice and push her away forever when she’s already seen me at such a low point.
“You’re right,” I grumble. “I’ll see you at the funeral on Friday. Until then, keep me updated about where you’re keeping the suspect. I don’t want to see his fucking face until I’ve seen my brother for the last time.”
Yan grunts, both to affirm my plan and express the tension building within him as he prepares to carry it out. “I’ll let you know every step of the way. You deserve that. But don’t let it keep you up at night. I might not be in charge anymore, but you know I know what I’m doing.”
We hang up, and I toss my phone casually into the couch where I lie back down, staring at the ceiling.
It feels wrong to stop pursuing Misha’s killer myself, at least actively, but Yan is right – if I burn myself out by attacking some faceless hired goon, the person behind my greatest tragedy might never suffer a day in their life for it.
No matter what, it still feels foreign to give up control, even for just one day.
Now that there’s a notable hush taking over the frenzied chaos in my head, I realize that Vera’s still gone.
She’s been here since the day my brother died, and she’s made it evident that she’s here to see this through with me no matter what. She’ll be thrilled to hear that we’ve found such a substantial piece of the puzzle already.
I just hope it doesn’t mean that she’s going to leave once this is all said and done.
I decide to try to fall asleep for a few hours, and I consider making an alarm before I remember that the point of the day is to let my body recharge. If I need to sleep without an alarm, that’s what Yan would want. It goes against my instinct of hyperawareness, but I told him I’d do as he says.
I fall asleep for a couple of hours before I hear stirring in the hallway near the guest bedroom. I’m startled awake by the noise, reaching for my pistol before I realize that Vera has returned. Her expression is disconcerted, maybe even fearful.
“When did you get back? Where did you go?” I ask, reassessing my surroundings as my heart rate quickens from the unexpected spike in adrenaline.
“I’ve been back for a while, but I didn’t want to wake you up,” she replies, making her voice smaller and less projected than usual.
Something is bothering her, and that means she could be in trouble.
“You really,reallycan’t sneak out like that, Vera. Remember how Yan said thatsomeonehas probably seen you around here with me? You could get kidnapped and tortured for ransom if the wrong person spotted you without me,” I reply, trying to suppress the harsh overtone of my voice as much as possible.
She folds her arms over her abdomen, reducing herself even further. “I know, I’m so sorry. I just... I really need to say something. It’s eating away at me.”
Something about her demeanor makes causes me to be on edge.
Did she reach out to that asshole from her school?
Did he offer her something in exchange for my location?
