and exhausted by my desperate scramble through the
mud. Another time, I could have taken him, but not
now. I was done. “I swear,” I croaked. “I love her.”
It just came out. I didn’t know I was going to say it until
I had.
Yuri stared down at me for a moment, his hulking body
outlined by the rain crashing against his shoulders and
back. For a moment, his expression seemed to soften
and he looked almost sad. “Then you are very stupid,”
he said. “And very unlucky.”
He dropped to one knee and pulled a knife from his
belt, then lifted it high to drive it down into my heart.
There was a crack and a cloud of dust exploded from
the half-finished wall behind Yuri. He dived to the floor
—he was ex-military, judging by how fast he reacted. A
second shot rang out, this one hitting the wall right
where he’d been standing. Yuri scrambled behind a
waist-high pile of breeze blocks.
Rico emerged out of the darkness, rifle in his arms,
covered in mud up to his knees. “How many times,” he
panted, “do I have to save your ass?” He swapped his
rifle for a handgun and pointed it at the breeze blocks.
“Get up!”
I clambered to my feet, which took a while. I was
exhausted, frozen and my back and ribs were badly
bruised—maybe worse. I staggered over to Rico and
threw an arm around his shoulders. He supported me
and we backed away into the mud, all the time keeping
a watchful eye on where Yuri was hiding. Then, when
darkness surrounded us, we ran.
Ten long, exhausting minutes later, we finally reached
the edge of the construction site. I wanted to weep at
how good the sidewalk felt under my feet. Rico helped
me stumble to where he’d parked the car. A streetlight
lit us up as we passed under it and I got a look at his
face. There was so much anger in his eyes...and so
much hurt, too. Hurt that I’d ignored his warnings. Hurt
that I’d turned my back on everything he understood.
Even, for some reason, hurt that I was with Irina.
But he didn’t say any of it. He said, “Where to, boss?”
I tightened the arm I had around his shoulders, pulling
him into a half-hug. “Home,” I said. “Take me home.”
* * *
A half hour later, I stood in the shower stall in my
apartment, scalding water beating down on my head
and shoulders. The water turned first brown as the mud
rinsed off me, then red as the scrapes and cuts on my
back opened up. There was a sharp pain in one side
whenever I took a deep breath. When I emerged, Rico
felt around and declared that I’d bust a rib, and taped it
up as best he could.
I took a look at my reflection in the mirror. It looked as
if I’d been through a war. My face was covered in tiny
scratches where the windshield glass had hit me, my
torso was bound with medical tape, my back was a
mess of purple and black bruises and my normal upright
posture was gone—I was slumped, dog-tired and
aching.
None of which bothered me. Even the thought of what
Vasiliy and Mikhail would unleash against me didn’t
bother me. The only thing on my mind was Irina.
I’d finally listened to her voicemail on the way to my
apartment. I’d been calling her ever since. But she
wasn’t picking up.
33
Irina
Lockdown
I’d been on lockdown before. Everyone in a bratva
family has. Whenever the danger from a rival gang gets
too high, whenever there’s word of a hit: lockdown.
Everyone is moved to the most secure house, armed
guards patrol and no one’s allowed to leave.
When I was a kid, it was almost fun. I’d get to stay
home from school and Lizaveta and I would make dens
under Vasiliy’s kitchen table. Now, though, it felt very
different. This time, I felt like a prisoner.
A mud-stained Yuri had driven me to Vasiliy’s
townhouse. I hadn’t seen Vasiliy, yet. I’d asked to, but
Yuri had simply shaken his head sadly. That truly
terrified me. How much damage had I done?
How could I have been so stupid? How could I have
thought that Vasiliy wouldn’t find out, especially when I
had enemies like Mikhail?
Worst of all, I had no idea whether Angelo was alive or
dead. Yuri had confiscated my phone.
I sat alone on one of the huge leather couches in the
living room, hugging my legs and tipped over to the side
so that I could press my cheek against the arm. I
wanted to be as small as possible. I wanted to sink into
the couch’s depths. I’d caused this. I’d gone against my
destiny and tried to start something with an American.
I’d pursued it even when I found out he was the enemy,
betraying my family. I’d persuaded Angelo to try to
make peace and led him straight into a trap that might
have cost him his life.
The door opened and Mikhail shambled in. One side of
his head was bandaged and there were drips of blood
on his shirt. What the hell had happened at the meet?!
He eyed me silently for a long time, his gaze raking over
my body. The familiar sick feeling started, but this time
it was worse, bitter and cold. Having someone leer at
you when they like you is one thing. Having someone
do it when they hate you, when they’ll do anything in
their power to hurt you—that’s unbearable.
The last thing I wanted to do was speak to him, but I
needed to know. “Please,” I said, looking up at him.
“Please—what happened to Angelo?”
He just stared at me for another minute, making me
sweat. Then he sank down onto the couch next to me,
his hip brushing mine. He leaned in close and put his
lips to my ear in a hideous parody of a kiss. I forced
myself not to pull away because I needed to know….
He whispered, “You’re a disloyal whore. And you’ll get
what’s coming to you.”
I jerked away from him as if he’d slapped me. I was still
staring at him in horror when the door was flung open.
Vasiliy stood there, his face thunderous. He jerked his
head in the direction of his study.
Feeling numb, I got up and followed him out of the
room. Behind me, I could feel Mikhail smirking.
In his study, Vasiliy wouldn’t look at me. He sat down
slowly behind his desk. Too slowly. And he picked up a
pen and moved it too carefully, too deliberately. I’d
been around him enough years that I could tell when he
was trying to contain his rage and this was the worst I’d
ever seen him. He placed his hands flat on the desktop,
flexing his fingers as if he wanted to tear great handfuls
out of the wood. “Why?” he asked at last.
A huge lump rose up in my throat. “Is he alive?” I
whispered. “Just tell me that. Is he alive?”
Vasiliy finally looked up at me and the look he gave me
made me wish I hadn’t asked. He looked at me as if he
didn’t know me. As if I was an enemy.
“You lie to me,” he said, his voice a tight little whisper.
“You betray me. After all these years. After everything
I’ve done for you. You side with my enemy and you plot
against me. Why?”
I’d been trying to get away from Vasiliy for years.
Suddenly, I was. I was no longer a Malakov, not to him.
I was free...and it was agony. I’d never wanted this,
never wanted to see the man who’d raised me torn
apart. People said Vasiliy Malakov was emotionless but
right then he was almost trembling, he was so wounded
and angry. And it was all thanks to me.