stepped to the left and pointed up the stairs, looking every bit like a pissed off parent who’d just caught their kid trying to sneak out of the house at 2 a.m.
I rubbed my temple, sighing heavily. “Zander—”
“Don’t even try it, Nikolai. I’ve let you avoid my questions for years. I’m done. You’re going to march your ass up those stairs and talk to me, or so help me God, I will drag you up there myself and beat them out of you. The choice is yours. But there’s absolutely no way you are getting out of this conversation.”
My older brother, ladies and gentlemen.
“You know, when someone says they don’t want to talk about something, most people respect their wishes and let it go.”
He stared at me blankly. “I’m not most people. Walk.”
I rolled my eyes, doing as he so “kindly” asked. I could try and fight him on it, but honestly, what would be the point? Aleksandr would make good on his threat. I wasn’t sure how long he’d been standing there, what exactly he’d overheard. What I did know was that it was enough for him to get the general idea about what had happened. The cat was out of the bag.
Aleksandr stepped into line behind me as I ascended the stairs, his feet thumping like a warning that he was there, in case I decided to make a run for it.
Like that big oaf could catch me.
The door to Aleksandr’s office was open, so I walked straight through and stopped in the centre of the room.
“Sit,” Aleksandr demanded, shutting the door.
I was far too mentally exhausted to tell him off for trying to order me around. Everything that had happened in the last twenty-four hours had zapped every ounce of strength out of me. The attack. My father’s kidnapping. Tatiana. Her words hurt more than any physical pain I’d ever endured before.
My trust in you, in your ability to be there for me when I need you, is gone.
I had nothing left in me to fight against my brother. I sat down.
Aleksandr went to his desk and pulled out two glasses from the drawer, placing one in front of me and the other in front of his empty chair. He moved to the drink cart in the corner of the room next, grabbing a bottle of vodka. After he’d filled my glass and his own, he took a seat, leaning back.
“Talk.”
I stared at my glass. “I don’t even know where to begin.”
“The start is always a good option.”
“The start,” I repeated, chuckling humorlessly.
“Yes,” Aleksandr said, narrowing his eyes. “When did things…evolve into more between you and Tatiana?”
The suspicious tilt in his voice made my spine stiffen. “Long after she turned eighteen, and the fact that you’re even asking me that makes me want to break your fucking nose.”
“That’s not what I meant, but good to know,” he smirked.
I glared, taking a sip from my drink. The welcome burn of the alcohol sliding down my throat helped calm my nerves.
Usually, I loved Aleksandr’s playful side. It was rare for him to indulge in it. But I just wasn’t in the fucking mood. I appreciated the fact that he was trying to lighten the mood, though.
“I meant, when did you guys start seeing each other?”
“Four years ago,” I answered, the memory of that first night in the hallway—the first time I tasted her, felt her come around my fingers—making me smirk. “We were in a secret relationship for over a year.”
Surprise flashed across Aleksandr’s face. He knew something had been going on between Tatiana and I, but I don’t think he realised how far back it went.
“She wasn’t comfortable telling anyone, at least not until she’d told Illayana first. The more time that went on, though, the harder and harder it became for her to tell her. For that first year, everything was…”
I couldn’t even find the words to describe it. How could you describe the best thing that ever happened to you? How could you sum it all up in a few simple words? It just couldn’t be done, so I didn’t even try.
“Then, Tatiana told me she was pregnant, and my whole world got so much brighter. I don’t remember ever being that happy before. Not once in my life, Zander.”
A genuine smile graced my brother’s lips. It disappeared a moment later, though, because he knew the happiness I spoke of didn’t last.
“She was about five months along when I fucked everything up. Looking back now, I realise what a fucking idiot I was for not trusting her, for letting old fears and scars from my past control my actions.”
Aleksandr frowned, trying to keep up. But he wouldn’t be able to, not until he got the full story.
“I’d just finished taking a shower in the warehouse and was getting dressed when I overheard some of the soldiers talking shit. Just normal locker room trash. ‘I got my dick sucked last night.’ ‘Out of Claire and Anette, who do you think has the tighter pussy?’ ‘Who’s the hottest chick you’ve ever fucked?’ It was around then that I zoned out. I got sick of hearing them. Then, one of the fuckers called Kurt said Tatiana’s name. I was so fucking angry, Zander. I saw red. I knew Tatiana wasn’t a virgin when we started fucking, but that didn’t mean I wanted to hear about her with another man. I told him if he didn’t shut the fuck up, I’d cut his tongue out.”
Aleksandr nodded in agreement, like my threat was completely justified. “Fair. Continue.”
“I don’t know if he was trying to show off to his friends or just piss me off, but he started boasting about how he’d fucked her six months ago. I didn’t believe him until he mentioned the tattoo she has on her ass. Once I heard that, I marched straight over to Tatiana’s and accused her of cheating. I accused her of lying about the baby being mine. I went crazy, Zander. I said the most awful things, and then I cut her out of my life without letting her get a word in. I ignored her calls. And then she went into hospital and—”
“Okay, slow down.” Aleksandr laid a hand on my shoulder and it shocked the hell out of me. I hadn’t even noticed him getting up and making his way over to me. I was too lost in my past. “You’re spiraling. We’re going to do this one step at a time. First, how did you know when Kurt said he’d seen this tattoo, that he wasn’t just talking about a time they’d fucked in the past? Before you guys got together?”
“Because that tattoo was new. She got it a month or so before she fell pregnant. I was there. It’s the first letter of my name.”
Aleksandr arched an eyebrow. “You branded her ass?”
I pulled my shirt to the side, revealing the “T” tattooed over my heart. “She branded me too.”
“That’s why you stopped taking your shirt off whenever you jumped in the ring.”
“Pretty much. I didn’t need Illayana getting suspicious.” I blew out a breath. “Because of my history with Galina, I was quick to assume the worst. I assumed Tatiana had lied to me and cheated on me. It didn’t matter what she tried to tell me.”
“Of course,” he breathed, like something had just clicked into place for him. “I forgot about Galina.”
Galina was an ex-girlfriend of mine from back when I lived in Russia, before we moved to the US. I was young when I met her. I kept fucking her until I was in my early twenties. When I told her I’d be moving to America, she realised I had no intention of taking her with me. So she decided to try and force my hand instead. She deliberately got herself pregnant by fucking a bunch of random men and tried to pass the baby off as mine.
I found out the truth only days before we were set to leave. One of our soldiers approached me, telling me his wife received some concerning text messages from Galina. She’d been boasting about how her plan to manipulate me had worked, that there was a high probability the child wasn’t mine. I left her in Russia with a team of doctors monitoring her closely, so I would know when she gave birth. There was still a chance, no matter how small, that the baby could have been mine, and I wouldn’t abandon it if that was the case.
Eight months later, Galina gave birth to a beautiful baby girl. I wasn’t the father. The disappointment I’d felt that day had been soul-crushing. It wasn’t until right then that I realised how much I’d been hoping the baby was mine.
It had been a startling surprise. At twenty-one, I wasn’t anywhere near ready to have a child. But to hear that you’re going to become a parent, and then having it snatched away from you…it hurt. A small part of me had also cared for Galina. I easily envisioned a future with her, so her betrayal pissed me off.
Fast forward nine years to the moment that I thought it was happening all over again. To the moment when I’d heard that fucker Kurt claim he’d had sex with Tatiana right around the time she’d fallen pregnant. All those feelings from almost a decade ago had come rushing back. Except this time, they were worse, more explosive. Because, unlike with Galina, I was hopelessly and irrevocably in love with Tatiana. The idea that she’d betrayed me and lied to me had clouded all sense of rationality, making it impossible for me to see what was right in front of my eyes.
“What happened next?” Aleksandr pushed, his hand on my shoulder keeping me grounded, centred.
“Tatiana went to stay with her aunt and uncle for a while. She was pissed off with me for accusing her of cheating and wanted to get away. I was too stubborn and pigheaded to let go of my anger, so I let her go. I tried to find that little fucker Kurt, so I could kill him, but he’d disappeared after the whole ‘warehouse’ incident. Tatiana and I didn’t speak to each other for months. I think she was waiting for me to come to my senses. Or she was just icing me out, like I’d done to her. I’m not sure. Things took a turn for the worst around the time of the Campos job.”
“Delano Campos?” Aleksandr asked, a slight frown on his face. “I remember that job. You and Father arranged a sit down with him to see if he was the one selling guns in Vegas.”
I nodded. Vegas was strictly Bratva territory, which meant if anyone else even tried to sell weapons on our turf, it would cost them their life. We’d been getting reports of other guns being sold on the market, and it took me over two weeks to track down who was responsible.
Delano Campos.
He was small-time, just moved to Vegas from Ireland and was trying to establish himself as an arms dealer, not realising the territory he was trying to claim was already taken—by us. My father and I then organised a meet under false pretences, pretending we were interested in buying from him.
“Tatiana called me when we were at the table,” I said, breathing through the pain of the memory. “I glanced at the screen, saw her name and rejected the call.”
Aleksandr winced.
“When she immediately called back, I switched my phone off. In my mind, I used the excuse that I was too busy dealing with Bratva business to answer her call. But deep down, there was a small part of me that knew it was just because I was still mad. I still hadn’t dealt with my anger. I wanted to punish her, so I ignored her. I sat at that table talking with some wannabe gangster who I wanted nothing more than to disembowel, while the woman I love lay in a hospital bed, crying out for me.”
Guilt, shame and grief all hit me with the force of a freight train. It hurt just as much as it had back then. Maybe more.
“When I eventually turned my phone back on a few hours later, there were over a hundred missed calls and text messages,” I continued, staring off into the distance. “The moment I realised what was going on, I rushed to the hospital. But by the time I got there, it was too late.” Tears formed, rolling down my cheeks. “My—” I sucked in a painful breath, the words I was about to say like a knife through the heart. “My son was gone. He died in the womb. Tatiana had to give birth to him all alone, with no one there to help her, to be there for her. She was holding him in her arms when I finally got there, and the look on her face”—I shook my head—“I’ll never forget it, how broken she looked.”
“Oh, brat.” Oh, brother. Aleksandr embraced me in a hug, providing me comfort that I in no way deserved. “Why didn’t you tell me? Why didn’t you tell anyone?”
“I couldn’t. After we buried him, Tatiana told me she didn’t want anyone to know, that she just wanted to forget. After what I did, the least I could do was respect her wishes and be there for her in whatever way she needed, since I hadn’t been there for her when it really mattered.”
“But what about you?” he asked, studying me closely. “Who was there for you? Having to keep all this to yourself…it wasn’t fair.”
I shrugged uncaringly. It was hard not being able to talk about it with the people I was closest to. Tatiana had left abruptly after the small funeral we’d held for him, and I promised not to say a word about it to anyone.
When she returned six months later, she acted like it never happened. She refused to talk about it, refused to acknowledge the past between us. She kept me at arm’s length, never letting me get too close and giving me her usual plucky attitude, but shrouded in coldness.
“It didn’t matter what I wanted, Zander. All that mattered was Tati.”
My brother looked at me like he wanted to say something but thought better of it, keeping his mouth shut.
“What you saw earlier, that was the first time Tatiana ever spoke to me about that night. About our son. Every other time I’ve tried, she’s ignored me, like I did to her. A sense of payback, I think. One I deserved.”
“Okay, I’ve heard enough,” he said, getting to his feet. He put his hands on his hips, staring me down like a parent about to give a ten-hour lecture. “Now you listen to me, Nikolai Vasili Volkov. No matter what you did or didn’t do, you have suffered enough. Yes, you made a mistake. A big fucking mistake. But you lost something too. I can’t even begin to understand how hard it must have been for Tatiana. Not only losing her child, but also still having to give birth to him with no one there for support or comfort. It would have been absolutely devastating for her. But this guilt you’re harbouring? You need to let it go. It wasn’t intentional. If you had even the slightest idea that something was wrong, that Tatiana needed you, you never would have ignored her calls. Anybody with a brain can see how much you care for her, that you would never have abandoned her if you knew.”
I knew he was just trying to help, but his words angered me. He was trying to make me feel better. I didn’t deserve to feel better. Aleksandr would never understand. He’d never understand what it felt like, knowing you’d let down the woman you love. To have her look at you with dead, cold eyes filled with betrayal, knowing you were the reason for it.
It was gut-wrenching. Soul-crushing.
“That’s a little ‘pot calling the kettle black’, isn’t it?” I asked, getting to my feet and standing toe to toe with him.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” he frowned.
“It means, how can you stand there and tell me to let go of my guilt when you’ve been carrying yours around for ten years?” I snapped back, referring to our mother.
He thought I didn’t know, but I did. I saw how he blamed himself for what happened to her. It was clear in every action he ever made. In the way he always put us first, never caring about his own wants or needs. In the way he was willing to sacrifice anything and everything to protect us. His life, his happiness. Did he really think I was that fucking ignorant? That I couldn’t see it?
He stared at me with all the focus of a deadly king cobra, not saying a word. Silence descended between us. Guilt started to worm its way into my heart at my words.
When he was ready to talk again, he spoke slowly, softly, a dark tilt to his voice. “I know what you’re trying to do, and it’s not going to work.” He closed his eyes briefly, taking a deep, calming breath. “You’re hurting on the inside, mladshiy brat, little brother. I’m not going to help you hurt on the outside, too, no matter what you say to me.”
That was the problem with older brothers, wasn’t it? They’d literally been there for you your whole life. And that meant that, sometimes, they knew you better than you knew yourself.
I hadn’t even realised that’s what I was trying to do, not until he mentioned it. I was itching for a fight. To hurt someone and have them hurt me back. To punish me for what I’d done.
“No?” I exhaled questioningly, slumping back into my chair. “Not even if I say I’m going to pay a visit to your little cartel queen?”
He narrowed his eyes dangerously. “Okay, now you’re pushing it.”
I laughed, picking my glass up and finishing the rest of my drink. “I’m kidding. Kind of.”
He grunted, moving back to his chair. He sat down, eyes never leaving mine as he asked, “What was his name?”
Sadness enveloped me. His name. Despite what I’d done, despite not being there for Tatiana, the name she’d chosen for our son was a name I didn’t deserve. “Nikolas,” I whispered, more tears falling from my eyes. “Nikolas Ivan Volkov.”
