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I don’t like the way he’s talking about Liliya so casually, but he’s not wrong.
“You keep saying wife.” Papa stares at Liam. “Did you really get married?”
“We did.”
“You’re not wearing rings.”
“Rings are symbols. They’re outward signs, nothing more. Paperwork means something.” Liam sits back in his chair. “Where do things stand with Rustik and the Aslan family?”
“They stand nowhere.” Papa looks away toward the window. The city crawls past outside, a thousand little lives, each a hero of their own story. “Rustik hasn’t spoken to me since the pair of you left the city. I’m afraid my life’s in danger now.”
“It’s very hard for me to feel sorry for you,” I say suddenly, which earns a glare from Liam.
“Alisa, please,” Papa says. “You have to know what this is going to mean for me. Marrying a Crowley like this, running away from Rustik—”
“He’s going to kill you,” Liam says simply.
Papa nods. He looks pale and drawn, like he’s sick with something. I wish it was regret, but I know it’s fear for his own life. “He hasn’t said as much but I know how that man operates. It’s a matter of time.”
“Then I’m your only option.”
That surprises me. I expected Liam to bully my father into helping us or at least to threaten him into submission.
Instead, this is a much subtler tactic.
“What do you mean?” Papa glances at me again. “How are you an option?”
“You’re dead if I don’t win the war that’s coming. You’re likely dead before it ends, but if you come to my side, I have no reason to end your life. Actually, I have plenty of incentive to save it.”
Papa’s frown deepens. “Explain, please.”
“I married your daughter.” Liam gestures at me. “That’s my first incentive. My next is your string of dispensaries. You and Rustik were going into business together, but you can easily make that same deal with me.”
“Rustik has productive farms.” Papa looks confused. “You don’t have anything like that.”
Liam waves the concern away. “I have money, resources, and willpower. Everything else will come in time.”
“Even if I wanted to make that deal with you, Rustik would never allow it.”
“That’s where you’re wrong. What Rustik wants is no longer important. I have more muscle and more experience waging wars like this than that upstart ever will. He will lose.”
Papa looks thoughtful. I want to scream at Liam, tell him to stop this insanity, that my father is the enemy, but I understand what he’s doing. If he can turn Papa to his cause, that’ll be a powerful ally both in business and in violence. Papa knows this town better than anyone, and he knows Rustik’s organization. Papa can help Liam win faster and more securely.
But my old man seems to shrivel. I never thought of him as a coward, but now that he has a choice to make it’s like he can’t sit up straight. The pressure of what he should choose weighs on him, forcing him down. Where I made up my mind and committed to my course of action despite the long odds, it’s like Papa doesn’t have the spine to go against Rustik.
I almost feel sorry for him, but I can’t let myself go soft. I have to keep thinking of Liliya and how Papa wanted to do the same thing to me that he did to her.
“I don’t know,” Papa murmurs at last, shaking his head. “It’s a good offer. I just don’t know.”
“Rustik’s going to kill you. I have no real reason to. That should be all the logic you need to make the right choice.”
“It isn’t that simple.” Papa sounds miserable. “I’m already entangled with Rustik.”
“Then detangle yourself. I won’t make this offer again.”
Papa nods, looking miserable. “I understand.” Then he glances at me. “Alisa, darling, you can see how dangerous things are for me right now, but if you were to go back to Rustik and apologize—”
Liam cuts him off. “If you speak to my wife like that one more time, I will kill you.” He makes his threat as if he’s ordering steak at a restaurant. There’s only hard truth in his voice. “She is not going anywhere.”
“Yes, very well.” He takes a deep breath and slowly blows it out. “I’ll have to think.”
“In the meantime, send Rustik a message for me. I’m open to working out a negotiated settlement to our current predicament, assuming he’s ready to cede control of half his grow operations for fair market value.”
Papa looks aghast. “You’re insane. He’ll never do that.”
“Then it’ll be war.” Liam pushes his chair back and stands. “You have a lot to think about, Bogdan. Think fast, because I can’t promise how long you have to keep drawing breath.”
He walks off, only pausing to glance back at me.
I don’t stand right away. Papa turns to me, looking deflated, like Liam strangled half the life out of him. I should feel something—victory, excitement, joy—since Papa deserves this and more.
