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“What?” I gasp, and my father grabs my hand, squeezing it tight as a warning.
Sorokin continues. “We will give this warning once. Others will be informed of our decision. If your daughter and Nikolai Starukhin break the oath, there will be consequences.” His gaze shifts to me and back to my father. “You will be accountable for your daughter’s actions.”
“I understand,” Zakhar replies solemnly. “ButIam still a member of the Starukhin Bratva.”
“You are,” Sorokin admits. “But she isn’t. And she will never be.” He pauses for emphasis, allowing the weight of his words to settle over us. “Perhaps if they had married.” The implication is clear that being legally bound to Nikolai could have protected us. But it’s too late now.
“Does Nikolai know what you are doing?” I ask desperately. “He can’t. He would never agree to this. We’re engaged.” I point to the ring on my finger. “I just want to see him one more time.”
My words hang in the air, but Sorokin is resolute in his denial. I collapse into the chair, but my father refuses to touch me as he stares down these men. I can’t believe how they’re treating me.
“One more time to say goodbye. Is it so unreasonable?” My eyes plead with Dmitri Chuikov. I killed a man to save his wife. Sorokin sang my praises when I killed a man, and now they shame me for loving one. Dmitri has to help me, and my hope rises when he opens his mouth to speak.
“We must act on the needs of the greater good,” he replies firmly. “And not the selfish desires of a few individuals.”
Sorokin stands. “Zakhar Sergeyevich Budanov, you must swear on the Bratva oath that if Nikolai Starukhin sees your daughter, you will kill him.” Sorokin pushes the gun forward. “Eto nash prikaz.”
Ignoring my sobs, my father stands and walks to the head of the table. He kneels in front of Sorokin, who points the barrel of the gun at his forehead.
Dad takes a deep breath. “I care for no one but the Bratva, and I shall love none other than the Bratva.” Then, he reaches for the gun barrel, taking it out of Sorokin’s hand before standing up. He towers over the older man and clenches his jaw as he stares down at him.
“Before you leave,” Sorokin commands, “we will verify your record through your tattoos.” Sorokin gestures toward a guard by the door. “Your daughter may wait in the hallway.”
“No, she stays.” Zakhar’s voice is firm, allowing for no negotiations. “She needs to learn what I am.”
Without another word, my father complies by removing all his clothes except his boxers. His skin reveals the intricate ink that tells the story of his life within the Bratva. He stands with his head held high as the pakhans study him like a specimen, and their eyes scan every detail of his body.
“No new ink, Zakhar Sergeyevich?” Popov asks lightly. “No marks from the Lanzzare?”
Dad’s jaw twitches. “I am loyal to the Bratva.”
“Yet you married a Mafia whore,” states Sorokin, smirking.
I clench my fist.How dare they talk this way about my mom!But I keep my mouth silent, following Dad’s lead. He remains stoic as ever.
“I am loyal to the Bratva,” he answers again.
“Only because your lapse of conduct didn’t end well,” replies Sorokin. “Yes?”
Zakhar’s throat bobs. “Yes.”
I bite my lips together and mimic my father. An outburst would do us no good. I hold my head high as if I’m being examined, showing my pride in being my father’s daughter.
“Good,” replies Popov. “Make sure you teach that lesson to your daughter.”
They nod in satisfaction, and a sense of relief washes over me when he’s allowed to dress. “You’re welcome to return to the Bratva,” Dmitri says. “Zakhar Sergeyevich Budanov.”
Sorokin nods. “You may return to Holtsville. But remember this: if you ever see Nikolai Starukhin approach your daughter, you will kill him. That is an order.”
Dad’s jaw clenches as he pulls his shirt on and adjusts the hem before speaking, and I can hear the bitterness with every word. “I will return to Holtsville and carry out my orders there.”
“Eden Zakharovna.” Sorokin aims his sharp eyes at me. “You’re released to your father. Under the same condition: you’ll never see Nikolai Starukhin again. It will cost him his life and your father’s.”
“Please,” I try again. “There must be another way.”
“Eden!” Zakhar snaps, his face set with steely resolve. “This is their order. We have no choice.”
“Take her home,” Sorokin orders. “And remember, your oath will save lives.” With that, Sorokin walks out of the room, leaving us to face our new reality.
