Chapter 49—Aiden

I walk into the living room where Aleksei is watching T.V.

There’s some kids show on that I can’t quite place. It looks like transformers, but it’s not.

He looks at me and offers a kind smile. I know he’s still nervous around me, though.

He looks like he is. I wasn’t sure if he saw me kill Jude. I’m certain he did, and even if he didn’t see me, he heard me.

It wasn’t something a child should have heard. Neither was seeing his grandfather’s murder. Much as I planned to kill Jeshero, I hate that my son had to witness something like that. I don’t know what scars it might have left on his little mind.

“Olá,” I say first, saying hello in Portuguese.

That’s the other thing I’ve had to get used to. He speaks three languages. Portuguese seems to be his main language which is understandable after living in Brazil for nearly ten years, next is Russian and English.

I speak eight languages. All the men in my family do. Portuguese being one of them.

“Olá,” he replies.

I ask him in Portuguese how his day was, and while he’s telling me, Irina comes in and looks at us.

“I don’t know what you guys are saying,” Irina states with a laugh.

Aleksei smiles. “Sorry. I can speak English or Russian if you want me to.”

“Speak whatever language you feel comfortable with,” I answer, and Irina nods.

“Listen to your papa; he’s a very wise man.” Irina chuckles and leaves us.

I notice the awkward expression on Aleksei’s face every time the reference to me being his father is brought up, especially since I’ve told him to call me Aiden.

I would be an idiot if I didn’t understand; it must be weird as fuck for him right now, and I shouldn’t make things harder.

I stride over to him and plant myself next to him on the sofa.

“You don’t have to call me dad,” I tell him. “I know it’s going to be hard. So you do whatever you feel is comfortable for you.”

“Thank you. I’m… trying to be okay. I miss my grandfather. It was horrible the way he died.” His little face contorts with sadness, and I remind myself of the things I decided.

I’ll never tell him what his grandfather did, and I’ll never make him hate him.

When he’s old enough, he’ll have questions because certain things won’t make sense. I’ll tell him everything then, including my part in the past.

“I’m truly sorry. I know he loved you.” I know at least that’s true, and I don’t have to feel like I’m lying to him. “I know you loved him too.”

“I did. He took care of me.”

“It’s going to be hard to feel better, and it will take time, but I’ll be here to help you.”

His gaze clings to mine. “Thank you. He told me my mother died in a fire. Is that what happened?”

“Yes. I tried to save her, but I couldn’t.”

“You saved me from that man, Jude.”

I feel a little more at ease and like he’s accepted me in some way for his acknowledgment. “I did my best. I would have never wanted you to go through all that. It was scary. You must still be scared by it.”

“Yes. Grandpa used to tell me stories of Mom whenever I was scared.”

“I can do that.” A smile tugs at the corners of my lips. “Nobody knew your mother like I did.” Not even her father.

“Really?”

“Yeah. I think I can say that.”

“Tell me something.”

“How about I tell you the story of how we met,” I suggest, and he nods excitedly.

“Yes.”

“It was at school. She was the new girl. She threw a ball at my head.”

He already looks intrigued. “She hit you?”

“Uh, huh. We had one big argument, and she couldn’t stand me after that. On the Sunday of that week, my dad told me we were having guests for dinner. Guess who came to dinner?”

“Oh my gosh. It was Mom?”

“It was. Imagine my surprise. We had to call a truce. Then we promised never to fight again after I rescued her cat when it climbed up a tree and couldn’t come down.”

I knew even as I took the forty-minute drive to her house that she must have meant something to me if I was driving all that way to rescue a cat. She’d worked some magic on me to get me to agree to something like that.

Aleksei and I end up talking for hours, and then we watch TV until he falls asleep in my arms like he used to when he was born.

It’s a sight to savor—something good amongst the bad.

Something I’ll remember when I leave for Russia on Sunday to bury Ilya.

***

“This was just delivered,” Maksim says, walking toward me with the confidence and strength of a man in charge. No one would ever guess that he’d gone through so much only weeks ago.

He holds up a brown manila envelope. The sort you get documents delivered in.

“What is it?”

“It’s a special delivery from Ilya’s executor.”

I narrow my eyes, not quite understanding what it could be.

“His executor?”

“Yeah. He didn’t say much, only who he was.”

We’ve been in Russia for a few days. The funeral was two days ago, and we’re leaving tomorrow.

I take the envelope from Maksim and open it.

“I’m going to leave you to that and start packing,” he says and makes his way back out the living room door.

I straighten up and pull out a sheet of paper with Ilya’s handwriting on it and then another envelope.

The sheet of paper says:

My last act as your bodyguard.

I open the envelope and see a letter inside. When I look over it, I realize in an instant it’s not written by Ilya. This is my father’s handwriting.

The letter is from him.

Dear Aiden, If you’re reading this, it means two things. It means I am dead, and so is Ilya.

In the same manner as my father, I gave each of the boy’s bodyguards a letter of wisdom from me.

One I felt I had to pass to you as the leader of this family and the Voirik.

Aiden, it took me a long time to write your letter. As I do, you sit in Ognenny Ostrov.

Maybe it took me this length of time because it feels like you had everything life could throw at you happen all at once.

You lost your wife and your child, and because of that, you lost your way.

My message to you is this;

Do not be afraid to live.

Death is something we must all face, and it will happen in different ways for each of us.

Sometimes it’s a thing we have no control over.

How we live, however, is different.

We can choose to be happy or sad, but when we allow fear to rule us, we miss the chance to be in control of our lives.

I know how you felt when you lost Gabriella. Your mother was killed right in front of me, and there was nothing I could do but watch.

I blamed myself for a long time, and then I realized I would have still preferred to live a hundred lives with her than without her.

I would never have chosen my life to be any other way, and more importantly, neither would she.

So don’t allow fear or guilt to rule you or stop you from living.

Or finding love again.

Fear is death.

I hope this helps.

Always, Your father.

His last words hit me hard, and I find myself re-reading them. Each time I read them, the words scream to me, and I think of Olivia because the last few weeks without her have felt empty with a nothingness nothing can fill.

Even though I found Aleksei, I’m dead inside. The love a parent has for their child is different from any other.

Different from the love I still have for her.

I love her in a way I never thought was possible, and that emptiness that increases daily will continue to eat away at me if I don’t do something about it.

I don’t want fear or guilt to rule me.

And I don’t want to be dead inside anymore.

She made me feel alive.

I want that again.