Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 80602 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 403(@200wpm)___ 322(@250wpm)___ 269(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80602 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 403(@200wpm)___ 322(@250wpm)___ 269(@300wpm)
I stand up and kiss his knuckles. He places his other hand at the top of my hair, stroking gently before letting go. “Nikolai would’ve been proud of you.”
My throat closes at Dedushka’s name. Today is the worst occasion to mention him or how much I miss him or how much I wish he was standing by my side.
I bottle up my emotions and say, “If he were here, neither Anastasia nor I would have to be compromised.”
Sergei sighs, and the sound comes out a bit scratchy, like he finds it difficult to breathe. “It would’ve eventually happened. Neither Nikolai nor I could protect you for life.”
“But you could at least protect Anastasia. You had her at forty—doesn’t she mean anything to you?”
“She means the world to me, but she was born into the brotherhood and she will follow the brotherhood’s rules.” He pauses. “As will you.”
“Yeah, yeah, because a woman can’t go so far.” I try to keep the mockery out of my voice.
“Who said she can’t?”
“You and everyone else here. That’s what I’ve been told since I was a little girl.”
“That’s because we wanted to protect you.”
“I don’t need protection. People need protection from me.”
“They sure do, you troublemaker.” He smiles a little and a fit of coughing takes over him. It rises up in volume and intensity until he topples over. I rush to my console, snatch tissues, and place them in his hands. He coughs blood into them, the white color turning red.
My heart lodges in my throat as his fit continues.
“Ded…” I call him by the term I only ever used to address Dedushka. “Breathe, breathe…”
His coughing comes to an end, slowly but not elegantly. The tissues are soaked with blood as he waves a hand and throws them in the bin. He retrieves clean ones to wipe his mouth. When I try to help, he raises a hand, stopping me in place.
Even old and sick, Granduncle is still a Sokolov and the Pakhan. He doesn’t like anyone, including his family, to see his weakness.
“Are you okay?” I ask tentatively. “Should you see the doctor?”
“Doctors are useless.” He approaches me slowly, then places both hands on my shoulders, making me stare up at him. When he speaks, his voice is a bit breathy. “Those who say women can’t go far in this world are afraid of what the likes of you can do. That’s why you have to be careful and smart, because your enemies are more than you can count or see. Don’t look at this marriage as misery, look at it as an opportunity to stay in a position of power, even from the background. That’s the only way you can protect yourself and everyone you love.”
His words strike a deep chord inside me, not only because of his advice, but mainly because of the fact that he believes in me. He believes in what I’m capable of despite everything that’s thrown in my direction.
I know Granduncle wouldn’t dangle a ripe fruit in front of me. Not only would that put his position in danger and weaken him, it would also put me in a horrible spot. As it seems, I don’t like to find my fruit easily. I prefer to hunt for it.
“Thank you, Ded.” I kiss his knuckles again, and he taps my head as a show of acceptance before he offers me his elbow.
I tap under my ample dress, making sure my gun is well strapped to my thigh.
“Ready?” he asks.
No, but I don’t say that, because I have to be ready. Pain, whether physical or emotional, is only a phase. That’s what Mom used to tell Reina and me.
“Ready.” I place my gloved hand in the crook of his arm and let him lead me out of my room.
The wedding is taking place in an orthodox church because…well, traditions, and then the reception will be held at the main brotherhood compound where we will live.
Kyle readily agreed to live with us instead of me having to move to Igor’s, which is fishy as hell. Usually, men are so eager to mark the women as their property, and that includes having a wife in his own home.
Kyle is being weird, but since I have no evidence to back up my suspicions, and would rather stay with Sergei and Ana, I’ve remained silent about it.
It’s been exactly a week since he returned from the unknown, and this whole time, all he’s done is insert himself back in the brotherhood as if he never left, as if he didn’t cut a wound open and never allowed it to heal.
Aside from that first day where he cornered me, we’ve only met twice, both times over Sergei’s breakfast table with the other leaders to talk about strategizing and the Irish threat.
Kyle hardly looked in my direction or acknowledged me, not even when I ganged up on him with Damien.