“I didn’t mean for it to happen,” I croaked. “I fell in love
with him.” And there it was. I’d said it.
He stared at me in silence. “Did you do it to hurt me?”
he said at last.
“No! It...it wasn’t about who he was. I didn’t even
know, at first! It was about him. Us.”
“You told him about our plan with the bikers,” he said.
He looked off into the corner, as if he couldn’t bear to
look at me anymore.
I was trying not to cry, now. “I was worried he was
going to get killed.”
“So you turned on your family?”
“No! I told him to call off the meet!”
“But he didn’t. And Josef was shot. And you stood there
and let me accuse Mikhail’s men. You let him accuse
Yuri!”
“I’m sorry!”
“Get out.”
I took a half step forward. “Vasiliy, please—”
“Get. Out.” And this time, I saw his knuckles whiten as
his hands clawed at the desk. He wanted me to go
before he lost control.
I fled. I ran to one of the guest rooms up on the top
floor and buried my face in the bed. I’d lost my family.
I’d lost Angelo. I cried it out with big, wracking sobs:
Malakovs don’t cry, but I wasn’t a Malakov anymore.
It was hours later when I finally stumbled out onto the
balcony. I wanted to be numb again. I wanted to not
feel the deep, jagged pain where my family had been
torn out of me. But as soon as the freezing air engulfed
me, I wanted his hands on me, warming me. Angelo! I
was going crazy, not knowing if he was alive or dead.
Voices below me. Mikhail and Vasiliy, standing on the
patio downstairs. It was a still night and their voices
carried. “—with her?” Mikhail was saying.
Vasiliy shook his head and I was glad the shadows hid
his expression. “She’s dead to me,” he said.
I felt as if I’d been punched in the chest.
“Don’t be too hard on her,” said Mikhail. “Women do
stupid things. That bastard seduced her. Told her what
she wanted to hear.”
Vasiliy looked at the ground and shook his head, but
this time with sadness. “She must go back to Moscow,”
he said, his voice thick with emotion. “With someone
who can protect her.” Then he nodded towards the
house. “Come on. We have a lot to do. That bastard’s
turf is going to burn, tonight.”
They disappeared inside. I retreated into the guest room
and quietly closed the doors, then leaned against them.
I’m dead to him.
For a long time, I just stood there, my heart breaking.
One thing finally got me moving again. I’d destroyed
everything else: had I killed Angelo, too? I had to know.
Yuri had taken my cell phone and I didn’t dare use the
house phone. But I knew Yuri kept a stash of “burner”
phones for when he or Vasiliy needed to make an
untraceable call.
I didn’t want to run into Vasiliy. I wanted to run into
Mikhail even less. But I forced myself to creep out of
the guest room and down the stairs to the first floor.
The door to Vasiliy’s office was open and I could hear
him and Mikhail talking inside. I could hear Mikhail’s
finger sliding across a map as he outlined where he was
going to attack: the restaurants and nightclubs he’d
burn, the bars he’d smash…. I’d tried to stop a war and
I’d started one instead. And it was worse, much worse,
than if things had escalated on their own. I could hear
the rage in Vasiliy’s voice as they talked. This was about
revenge and it would be bloody and brutal.
“Don’t do it yourself,” I heard him grunt. “Keep your
hands clean.”
“I will, I will,” said Mikhail airily. He sounded almost
happy. Of course he was: he’d gotten exactly what he
wanted.
I took a deep breath and stole past the door and on
down the hallway, then down the spiral staircase that
led to the old servant quarters in the basement, where
Yuri and the other live-in bodyguards had their rooms. I
knew which room was Yuri’s because I’d sat on his bed
with him a few times while he taught me things: how to
shoot a gun, for one, and how to get out of plastic zip
ties. Last-resort skills, for if I was ever kidnapped. If
Vasiliy was like my father, Yuri had been like an older
brother to me. Another person I’ve lost.
Yuri’s room was empty and, as always, immaculate. It
reminded me of an army barracks, the blanket so tight
on the bed you could bounce a coin off it. There were
some very old books, a tiny closet and a gun rack. Is
this really all he has in his life? It seemed so cold, so
lonely.
I knelt, pulled the box of burner phones from under
Yuri’s bed and grabbed one. I should take it upstairs.
But what if someone saw me with it on the way up?
They’d take it off me and then I might never know….
No. I wasn’t risking it. I had to know now. I dialed
Angelo’s number.
He picked up on the second ring. “Irina?”
“Angelo!” My eyes closed and I slumped against Yuri’s
bed in relief. At the same time, I felt a sudden, deep
ache right down the front of my body: the need to press
myself against him and the pain of not being able to. He
sounded so far away. “Are you okay?”
“Fine. Where are you?”
I told him about being on lockdown in Vasiliy’s house.
How he wanted to send me back to Moscow. How he
was gearing up for all-out war. “How do we turn this
off?!” I asked, my voice quavering. “This is our fault!”
I heard him rub his face with his hands. “I know. Look,
stay safe. Let me figure things out. I—”
My breath caught in my chest. I knew which two words
he’d bitten back. Because he wasn’t sure? Or because it
was crazy to say them, with everything that was going
on?
“I’ll see you soon,” he said at last. “I’ll find a way.”
I ended the call. I knew I should get out of there, but all
the energy had just drained out of me. I’ll see you soon.
How?! We were at war. And I was going to be on a
plane back to Moscow within a few days at most.
I was never going to see him again.
That was when I heard footsteps in the hallway. Chyort!
I shoved the phone into my jeans, pushed the box back
where it was, then looked around for an escape route.
There wasn’t one. The room was about eight feet
square and the footsteps were too close: whoever was
approaching would see me coming out….
I stood up just as Yuri walked in. I tried to come up
with an explanation as to why I was there, but the way
he looked at me made the excuses die in my throat.
Yuri had been a constant throughout my life. He’d been
around when my parents were alive, then I’d gotten to
know him even better when I went to live with Vasiliy.
He’d driven me to ballet lessons, he’d kicked the ass of
a boyfriend who tried to get too touchy in the back seat,
he’d once stopped the car and held my hair while I
leaned out of the door and threw up after drinking too
much...and he hadn’t told Vasiliy. He was the best.
And the way he stared at me just killed me. Vasiliy had
been mad but Yuri just looked...wounded.
I threw myself at him and wrapped my arms around
him, burying my face in his chest. He let out a long sigh
and stroked my hair.
“I’m s—sorry,” I sobbed.
He made shh-ing noises, like the ones he used to make
when Lizaveta had a nightmare and couldn’t sleep. He’d
always been surprisingly good at it.
“Don’t hate me,” I managed between sobs. “I need