Chapter 45: Mikhail

“Are you nervous about later?” Natalia whispers against my chest. She runs her fingers over my skin, and I press my hand to hers.

We’re lying on the bed together. She’s cocooned in my arms.

I want to take her all over again, but we needed a break before the last round. The sun will be up soon, and the spell will be broken.

“I mean because you want to be Pakhan,” she adds. “Do you even get nervous?”

There’s a smile in her voice, which means part of her is healing. When you can smile again after loss, even just a little, it means pieces of your heart are coming back together to fill the hole grief left behind.

“Yes, I get nervous, and I am nervous about later. I want to be Pakhan. Few people in the brotherhood get this chance, and when it was offered to me, I wanted to do everything I could to seize the opportunity. So, yes, I’m fucking nervous I won’t get picked.” It’s been hard keeping what I suspect about Ivan from my father and Sophia. I knew knowing what I know would destroy him further, and I couldn’t do that without proof. I’m hours away from the time of reckoning and feel like a failure.

“I’m nervous about Ivan getting something he doesn’t deserve,” I add. “Something that will give him more power. But I’m also nervous because I worry there’ll be something I neglected to do that didn’t qualify me for the job.”

“You work hard, Mikhail. I’m not with you while you’re at the office, but I know you.”

I press her hand to my heart.

“I do work hard, baby.”

“Then trust in that.” She runs her hands through my hair and over my beard.

“You want me again.” I catch her face and beam down at the seductive stare she gives me.

“Yes. I’m trying to get what I can. It will be breakfast soon, and I’ll have to be jealous of the maids ogling my husband and speaking to him in a language I don’t understand.”

I brush my lips over her nose. “There was never anything to be jealous of. You and I speak our own language, one nobody else can understand.”

“We do,” she agrees, and we fall into a kiss again. Then each other.

Seconds after we climb down from the height of passion and pleasure, the sun pokes its head through the blanket of darkness and my heart sinks.

She looks, too, and knows the dawn of a new day means the enchantment has broken and we have to face a new reality.

We have one more sunrise I purposely won’t watch with her.

So, this is our last.

I can’t watch her like this again and suffer the temptation to keep her, nor the feeling of guilt that rides my soul every time I look at her.

I don’t want to feel like I’m not good enough for her.

Those who know better should do better, so this is me trying.

And loving her even more than I did yesterday.

When I reach Dmitriyev Ltd., I’m surprised to see the meeting hall practically full of the men from the brotherhood.

No one is ever late for a meeting, but they’re never this early, either.

We have about twenty minutes before the ceremony begins.

Everyone’s presence heightens my awareness of the importance of tonight.

They’re all dressed for the occasion and the venue. I’ve always thought this building with its spectacular array of crystal chandeliers and lavish European design is too elaborate for men like us. Most of us have been behind bars more times than the years we’ve lived on this earth, and most of us wouldn’t have minded meeting in a hovel.

Everyone who is anyone will be here to witness this momentous night. A night few see in their lifetimes. Those who are older will remember when my father became Pakhan. Those who are younger will remember tonight for the same reason.

No matter how young or old the men are, they’ll all be eager to be part of what happens tonight because it will be the first and only time in our history when a choice of Pakhan was made this way. A decision between two brothers.

I’m wearing a suit with the red emblems of the family crest stitched on the left breast pocket. It’s the only splash of color I’ve worn in years. Ivan will be wearing the same. I haven’t spotted him nor Father yet.

It will be all I can do to tamp down my wrath when I do see Ivan.

Motherfucking bastard.

I can’t believe he’s outsmarted me in such a way. He’ll fucking get his.

I swear it. I swear it on my mother and sister’s graves.

I swear it on mine. If it kills me to bring him down to justice, that’s what I’ll do, and we’ll die together.

I walk into the foyer and see Sophia coming through the door on the other side. That means Father should be here, too.

She also knows the answer to this night.

She smiles sweetly at me. I don’t know how to take it. Is she smiling at me because I was chosen, or is that a smile of sympathy?

I move toward her, and she approaches me with outstretched arms.

I feel her warmth before she reaches and hugs me the way a mother would.

“Look at you.” She beams with pride.

“I scrub up well, don’t I?” I smirk.

“Oh, Mikhail, I think we can all agree that you more than scrub up well. I’m proud of you. This is a momentous night no matter what happens. Be proud of the work you’ve done at the company and for the Bratva.” She nods.

I try to detect any underlying tones hinting at the answer, but I can’t pick up anything. That’s what makes Sophia good at her job. She’ll probably be the only woman in our history who will sit through our meetings and be part of the leadership.

In her lifetime, she would have witnessed two inaugurations. This will be her third.

“Thank you, Auntie.”

She reaches into her pocket and hands me a little khvorost, a Russian sweet crisp pastry shaped like angel wings. She used to make them for us at Christmas when we were kids, but sometimes she’d surprise us with them.

She hasn’t made any in years.

I smile as I take it and look at the little angel in my hands.

“You don’t think I’m too old for this? I’m nearly twenty-nine, Auntie.”

She reaches out and touches my cheek. “But you are still my little angel. Sometimes, it’s the little things we remember from our past that count.”

I nod. “You are right.”

“How are things at home?” she asks tentatively as the worry returns to her face.

“Hard.”

“You love Adriana,” she notes. It’s been weird hearing that name now, and stranger knowing I’ll always have to keep that secret. But I don’t have to lie about my love.

“I do.”

“Then let’s hope this gets resolved soon so you can be together again.” She taps my shoulder. I don’t make her any wiser about my plans.

“Yes.”

“These are dangerous times, so I agree with you sending her away. It’s the right thing to do. What happened to her guard will deeply affect her, and until we figure out what’s going on, we can’t risk anybody’s safety.”

“My thoughts exactly.”

The door opens to our left, and I turn to see Ivan. He stops mid-stride when he notices me and puts that smug-as-fuck expression on his face.

“It’s time to get seated,” he informs us.

“Thank you, dear,” Sophia replies.

I don’t answer. I just follow Sophia when she walks ahead of me.

We enter the hall, which is now full with the members who make up the New York quarter of the Bratva.

Ivan and I walk down to the front of the room, where our father is seated at the head like the judge, jury, and executioner.

He looks worse tonight. Paler. And his eyes are duller than usual, like the light of the living has already left him.

There are two stands before his chair. I stand on the right and Ivan to the left. Sophia sits in the seat across the room but in front of the Brigadiers. The room goes silent, and Father stands.

It’s time.

As I look at my father, I cast my mind back to how he was twenty years ago. Strong and defiant, ruthless, merciless. You’d know all that just from looking at him.

It was around that time when I knew I wanted to be like him, and I knew I didn’t need to be the Pakhan to accomplish that. If I can accept that, I can accept him choosing my brother.

That doesn’t change anything about what I plan to do to Ivan.

“My brothers and my dear sister,” Father begins, giving Sophia a quick glance, to which she dips her head. “We gather tonight in our numbers to witness the dawn of a new era. A new era of leadership. In the Vory, we honor the code that was set by our forefathers, and we’re ruthless bastards when it comes to conquering wealth and expanding what we already possess. The Pakhan is chosen to lead you to victory the way a general leads his army. Both my sons are worthy to fulfill the role of general, and they can both live up to everything you would expect from a Baranov leader. But only one can carry the title.”

He pauses for a beat and glances from me to Ivan. When his gaze settles on Ivan, I automatically think he’s chosen him, but then he looks at me, and his eyes soften.

“This has been an exceedingly difficult decision. Truly difficult.” He focuses on my brother and me. “I want you both to know that I appreciate everything you have done for me and the Bratva.”

“Thank you, Father,” Ivan and I both say and dip our heads.

“You are welcome.” He brings a hand to his heart and looks paler but lifts his head a little higher as he addresses the men again. “The man I have chosen to be your new leader is my son Mikhail Dmitriyev.”

I hear the words fall from his lips, but they don’t quite register in my mind until a few seconds pass.

I look at Ivan. I don’t know what I expect, but it’s not that nonchalant expression on his face, like he doesn’t care. I know he does. He would have had to, to carry out everything that’s happened so far.

The men stand and cheer, and my asshole brother steps toward me with his hand outstretched to shake mine.

My skin crawls when I grip his hand.

“Congratulations, brother,” he states, but all I can do is stare at him.

He should look more cut up than he does. But he looks like he already knew I’d be chosen.

“Thank you, brother.”

He’s about to say something when Father starts coughing.

We both look at him in the same moment he doubles over and a coughing fit takes him.

I’m the first to get to him, panic fueling my movements. He sinks to the ground and clutches his heart, taking shallow breaths.

“My… heart,” he stutters.

“Father,” I blurt, my mind racing. My eyes find Sophia, who’s rushed over to join us. “Call an ambulance. Now.”

She takes out her phone, dials for an ambulance, and starts speaking straightaway.

Father grabs my shirt and pulls me down so he can speak into my ear.

“Be a leader, son,” he whispers in a hurried staccato voice. “Be the man I raised you to be. I… know the truth.”

His eyes rivet to mine.

“You know the truth?” I whisper back with narrowed eyes.

“About your brother.”

Jesus Christ.

“You know?” I hiss.

He nods. “Somebody’s helping him. I don’t know who. Take them down for me.” He coughs again.

“Father.”

“Goodbye, son. It’s getting dark now.” He releases me and smiles. “I can see her now, Mikhail. Your mother. My angel. The ballerina. The other half of my soul. I’m going to be with her now.”

His lips stop moving, then he does, too.

My mind is so fractured I can’t think straight.

I hear sirens wailing but know they’re too late.

He’s dead.

My father is dead. Another parent died in my arms, and I’m helpless.

Rage fills me as his words fill my mind, twisting my insides and crushing the walls of my chest. I look around to where Ivan was standing, only to realize he’s gone.

The motherfucking bastard left.