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I could see from his face that he wasn’t the one who pulled the trigger. But he knew. He had to. He’s in a room with Pyotr all day, every day. He came home troubled and unwilling to tell me what was wrong because he didn’t want me to stop it. To interfere with Ben’s death.
He as good as killed Ben, and I’ll never forgive him for that.
Did he think I would?
Maybe he thought I wouldn’t blame him.
“Dani!” my mom calls from the bottom of the stairs, and I realize I’ve gotten lost in my thoughts.
“Coming!” I call, though I really don’t want to eat right now.
Tucking the picture carefully back into its place on my mirror, I press a kiss to my fingertips and touch them to Ben’s face. Then I head downstairs, locking the pain away so I can endure the normalcy of a family dinner without him.
15
DANI
The doorbell rings, and I pause my homework to listen for my parents’ call, saying that they’ll get it. It doesn’t come. I suppose it’s more than my turn to accept a visitor coming to offer their sympathy. My parents have taken it easy on me in that regard.
With a heavy sigh, I heave myself up off the bed and head downstairs.
My stomach drops as I open our front door to find myself face-to-face with none other than Mikhail Sidorov. Hanson stands beside the door, his shoulders square, as he’s on guard, but seeming perfectly at ease with the sleazy businessman on our front doorstep.
“Dani, what a pleasant surprise,” Mikhail states, his eye lighting as he looks me up and down.
“What are you doing here?” I hiss, my hatred for him making it impossible to sound polite.
“I came to offer my condolences,” he says, and his sudden gravity actually manages to convince me of his sincerity.
Whatever kind of monster he is, at least he has a drop of humanity in him—enough to have seen Ben for the wonderful person my brother was, someone to mourn because Ben was taken from us entirely too soon.
But that doesn’t make me any less aware of the fact that Mikhail has forced himself on me more than once. He’s groped me, humiliated me, and tried to kill the entire Veles family—Silvia and Isla included.
He’s sick, twisted, and I blame him as much for Ben’s death as I do the Veles clan. Because he’s the one who put Ben in their crosshairs, taking Ben under his wing and allowing him to become part of the conflict.
He should have left my brother alone and let Ben be the kind soul he was meant to be. Instead, he twisted my brother, perverted him, and left him exposed and vulnerable to the wrath of the Veles.
But before I have the chance to say as much, I feel my father’s heavy hand land on my shoulder. “Mikhail, thank you for stopping by. What brings you here?” Dad asks, his voice warm.
His hand grips my shoulder, guiding me gently out of the doorway as he gestures for Mikhail to enter our home.
“I came to offer my sincerest condolences and to see how you and the missus are holding up,” Mikhail says solemnly, offering my father a sad smile as his eyebrows press together in sympathetic concern.
Either Ben’s death really has impacted him, or Mikhail is a phenomenal actor.
“That’s very kind of you,” Dad says. “It means a lot coming from you, since you and Ben had grown so close over the past few months. Molly and I are doing the best we can under the circumstances. It’s certainly nice to have Dani back at home with what’s happened.”
“Of course,” Mikhail agrees, his smile oily as he turns his attention back to me. “It must bring you some comfort knowing that at least one of your children is safe and nearby.”
I’ve never wanted to kick someone so badly in my life.
“Mikhail, I thought that was you I heard,” Mom says, striding into the entryway and grasping his arms as she tips her cheek to kiss the air on either side of his face.
Mikhail gives my mom’s elbows a gentle squeeze. “I’m so sorry for your loss, Molly. Ben’s death is a true deficit for all of us. He had such a generous soul. Anything I can do, you just say the word.”
His words are perfect, just the right mixture of empathy and grief. But it deeply disturbs me to see my parents acting so familiar with Mikhail. He’s clearly infiltrated their friendship and hospitality since I moved out. It unnerves me to see them so at ease with the same man who decided it was in both his and my father’s best interest if Pyotr Veles and his family were dead.
“Thank you, Mikhail,” Mom says, her voice tearful as she accepts another in an endless stream of condolences.
