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“Yulia, don’t stray too far,” Sophia calls out, her voice light, maternal. She keeps a watchful eye on Yulia as the kid romps along the path, picking wildflowers here and there.
“Mama and Papa would love these, don’t you think, Max?” Yulia chatters to the dog, who seems to be barking in agreement.
The sight of them, full of joy and laughter, cuts through my hard exterior, drawing light into the darkness that wraps my world. I shake off the unsettling thought, diverting my attention to the nearing hilltop.
“The lunch was fantastic,” Sophia begins, her voice a soft lilt that cuts through the silence.
I shrug, my gaze trained on the path ahead. “Yulia seems to think so, too, considering the sound effects.”
That gets her to laugh. “And the lake house, it’s beautiful,” she continues, glancing over her shoulder to where the house is set in the landscape behind us.
“Yeah,” I find myself saying. “It was our hideaway. When we were kids… Our parents seemed normal here, you know? Just a regular family.” I think about this for a moment as the memories unfold. “My father…” I heave a sigh. “He was always so serious back then. A hard man. Business always came first, no matter what. But here at the lake house, it was different.”
Sophia looks at me, her eyes filled with curiosity and something else. Something warm.
“This place is just…a happy space, I guess,” I continue, my gaze distant, remembering those simpler times. “When I was a boy, we’d row out to the middle of the lake, just the two of us. He taught me how to fish, how to row… No business talk. No violence. Just a father and his son.”
Sophia nods, a faraway look in her eyes. “My dad. He… He always made time for us. He called me his little princess.” Her voice breaks a little, tears welling up.
For a moment, I’m at a loss. Her vulnerability knocks the wind from my sails. I’ve always seen Sophia as bold, defiant. Seeing her like this, torn by her past, just as I often am…it does things to me. I want to hold her.
What the fuck? This isn’t me.
I’m not the comforting type. But, for some reason, with Sophia, it feels different. It feels… Like I am in fucking trouble.
A distant splash jerks my attention. I whip around, expecting Yulia to be the culprit. Instead, I find Max soaked to the bone, looking like a drowned rat after leaping into the lake.
“Max!” Yulia squeals, laughing as the wet puppy shakes vigorously, spraying water all over her.
I shake my head, grinning. “That dog’s got more guts than brains.”
Sophia laughs, but then it fades as she turns back to me. “So, um…do your parents live here, Luka?”
Live?
Of course. I haven’t explained anything. I stop walking and point to the hill not far from us. “They’re right up there.”
Her eyes trace the line from my outstretched arm, moving up the incline of the hill to rest upon the twin structures near a tall tree. She sucks in a breath as she sees it.
I feel like a dick all of a sudden. I could have said something before we got here. But it’s just so fucking hard.
“Are those…?” she begins, but she doesn’t need to finish the question. I can see the realization dawning on her face. The gravestones are impossible to miss – grand structures crafted from blocks of granite and marble, paying tribute to the life and power of my parents.
It’s a lavish spectacle of an underworld life led in opulence. The life-size statues show them in their prime, two towering figures, a symbol of the wealth and prestige they once held. Both depicted far too young, victims of a ruthless world they helped mold. And now it’s their legacy I bear, whether I choose to or not.
“Da,” I say quietly. “That’s them.”
Chapter 40
Luka
“I-I didn’t know. I’m sorry,” Sophia stammers, her gaze lingering on the distant gravestones.
Suddenly Yulia rushes past, breaking the moment. I’m grateful for the distraction. “Luka, Max is being silly!”
“Slowly, Yulia!” Sophia calls, but her eyes stay locked with mine. They’re wide pools, sucking me in. There’s more of that goddamned silence, and now I’m really regretting bringing her here. Too many questions. Too much to explain.
Yulia returns, tugging on my sleeve. “Look at what I picked, Luka!”
