Chapter 33

KSENIA

Clearing my throat, I take a step back from him, from his arms. Looking down at my feet, I curse myself for not wearing running shoes twenty-four hours a day. Because right now all I want to do is run far and wide. I want to get the hell out of here.

“I’ve got a safe place for you to stay, dusha moya,” Grisha says, interrupting my inner mental freak-out.

My head whips up, almost hurting my neck as it does. My eyes find his and hold his gaze for a moment. He is still a good distance from me, but he is close enough that he could grab me if I tried to run. I hate that I’m still thinking about running, as if Makar wouldn’t find me.

I refuse to think of him as my father. I share his blood, but I hate that part of me, every square inch. I wish that I could somehow alter my DNA so that I am no longer connected to him in any way whatsoever.

“Where? You think he doesn’t know where you live?” I ask, my words coming out faster than I intend in my panic.

He shakes his head, taking a step toward me, then another. His arms wrap around me before I realize what’s happening. Then he’s hugging me—holding me. This isn’t like when I threw myself at him a few moments ago. This is different. This is so very different.

My entire body melts toward him, into him. If I could crawl into his skin and stay hidden there, I would. This is comforting. I shouldn’t be feeling this toward him, but I am, so much so.

“Can’t tell you where, but it’s safe and it’s not under my name. Makar is smart, but I don’t think he has the connections here to figure out how this owner and I know one another.”

Licking my lips, I tip my head back and look into his blue eyes. They may not be sparkling anymore, but there is something there, something deeply meaningful and hidden just below the surface. It’s not malice or evil, it’s beautiful, I don’t care what he tells me.

“I’m scared, Grisha,” I confess.

He hums. “I had eyes on him in Black Dolphin. Those eyes stayed on him for as long as possible. I’ve got other men looking for him, but as far as I know, he’s gone underground, so time is of the essence, dusha moya.”

His words send a chill down my spine. I hate it. Pressing my lips together, I give him a jerk with my chin. He squeezes me once, then takes a step back releasing me. I don’t want him to. I want his arms to stay around me forever, keeping me safe.

Clearing my throat, I lift my arm and slide my fingers through my messy, tangled, brown beachy hair. Inhaling a deep breath, I let it out slowly and nod my head a couple of times, as if to start to pep talk myself up. “Okay, let me pack some things.” “No electronics,” he calls out.

My eyes widen and I stare at him. “No electronics?” I ask.

All I can think about is my cheap laptop that I use to bargain shop and the thirty-five-dollar Kindle that I got on sale so that I can read at night before I fall asleep in bed. I can’t just leave those here… can I?

“Give me all of your electronics. I’m going to wipe them, but you still can’t bring them.”

“Why?” I demand, trying not to be rude, but these are my things.

Mine.

Not his.

I paid for them with what little I had extra and I’m not going to just let him wipe them, then toss them.

He shakes his head slowly, then lifts his hand and runs his fingers through his hair. “Dusha moya,” he rasps, I can tell that he’s on the edge of annoyed with me. “Electronics, just like credit cards, and anything else can be tracked and

traced. It’s better to leave here with nothing.” Fuck.

He’s right.

I hate it when he makes sense because even though I haven’t seen him in ten years, nothing has changed on that front. He still knows a lot more than I do. I suppose it just kind of comes with the territory or something.

Leaving him in the living room, I head to my bedroom and pull out the large suitcase that I use to move with. I always have it on the ready, just in case. I’ve been lax lately though. I’ve lived in this apartment longer than any of my others. It’s been my favorite and I’m sad to leave.

“We got about a three-hour drive, Ksenia. Might want to take the swimsuit off and dress comfortable, yeah?”

“Yeah,” I say, knowing that if I don’t answer, he’ll just yell out louder.

I pack my clothes. I don’t have much, never really did. When I was Grisha’s, living with him, being his whore, that was the only time in my life that I had an actual full wardrobe. Well, other than when I was under Makar’s rule.

It was his rule too, because he was in charge no matter what. Not just a Pakhan, but a goddamn tyrant ready, willing, and waiting to inflict his pain on anyone who dared to even look at him sideways.

Shaking off his memory, I continue to pack… quickly. Then I change into a pair of exercise leggings, a sports bra, and a loose-fitting tank top before throwing my brown hair up in a messy bun. Taking one last look around my bedroom, I let out a sigh, my Kindle, laptop, and phone in hand, I flick the light off and head toward Grisha.

GRISHA

ONCE I HAVE her loaded in my SUV, I head out of the small California central coast town where she has chosen to reside the past four years. It has been her longest residence and I am surprised that she doesn’t demand to say goodbye to any friends. Though I’ve been keeping tabs on her romantic life, I haven’t paid much attention to anything else.

“Have you not made friends here?” I ask as I see the city limit sign.

She hums, then I feel her eyes on me. Glancing over at her, I give her a small smile, but she doesn’t return the expression. Instead, she frowns, then shifts her attention back to the road in front of us. I do the same, waiting for her answer. Knowing that she has one.

“I learned a long time ago not to make any friends.”

Her words are barely above a whisper and cause me to flinch. Yes, I suppose she would have learned that lesson, a lesson that I taught her when she initially ran from me. Our relationship was tumultuous, to say the least, during that time.

She was mine, given to me, and I expected her to stay, always, no matter how I treated her or how I behaved. That is what we’re taught from the moment we become Bratva. Your woman, given to you, taken, married, whateverthefuck, she is yours to do with as you please.

They have no say in the relationship. As Bratva, you hold all of the power. The rules have changed over the years, become more modernized, but this one stays the same. Most of the men don’t mistreat their women or their wives, but I did. Not physically, never physically, but emotionally and mentally, I put Ksenia through some horrible shit.

“Yeah, I guess you did,” I murmur as I continue to drive.

The rest of the three-hour drive is almost in complete silence, save for the radio. I allow Ksenia to have full control of the stations, something that I would never have done in the past. Honestly, not something I’ll probably ever fucking do again.

Pulling off at the next off-ramp, I guide the car into a grocery store parking lot. It’s one of those expensive health food chains. I know that this is where Holland, Danill’s wife, likes to shop. Shifting the SUV into park, I look over to Ksenia.

She is staring at the store in front of us, then slowly turns her head and her eyes find mine. “What are we doing here?” she asks, her voice soft and endearingly sweet.

My lips curve up into a small smile. “Grocery shopping. We’re almost to the house and there are some staples in the pantry, I’ve been told, but nothing fresh and you probably want different things anyway. I don’t know what you want to cook. You won’t be gallivanting around town eating in restaurants. You’ll be fairly sequestered to the residence.”

“Gallivanting?” she asks, her lips pressing together before she shakes her head a couple of times. “I don’t know that I’ve ever gallivanted, Grisha.”

“You know what I mean,” I say, rolling my eyes.

She continues to grin, then she lifts her hand and touches the back of my palm. Flicking my gaze down to her fingers on my palm, I lift my eyes slowly up to meet hers.

“You need food, dusha moya. You also need to stay in the apartment until your father has been taken care of.”

Ksenia nods her head, then she looks over to the store. “This place is so expensive, Grisha. I don’t have enough money in my savings to cover this and the cash that I have is kind of minimal.”

“First of all, you don’t have to worry about money. I’m paying your expenses. All of them, and I don’t want to hear shit about it. Second, why do you not have any money? You made a decent amount in tips, and you’ve been working six goddamn days a week. Your apartment wasn’t cheap by most places’ standards, but it is for California. So, where the fuck is your money going?” I bark.

I’m pissed the fuck off. Completely goddamn pissed. How could she have been on her own this long, no real credit card debt to hold her back like most people, and be goddamn broke?

Then it slams into me like a freight train. “Who the fuck are you sending money to?”