Chapter 125 125

Chapter 125 125
KOLYA

As we approach the gates to my compound, I notice two figures standing at the side gate. Both are dressed in dark colors and their faces are hidden by the glare of our headlights.

Milana slows down. Her breathing grows more and more still. “Shit,” she whispers, breaking the silence. In this case, it’s not a good thing.

“Adrian?”

“Looks like it,” Milana says, her expression hardening. “And he’s brought a friend.”

I roll down my window as Milana comes to a stop next to them. “Brother,” I snarl. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

“And to think I was expecting a warm welcome,” he sighs. “You wanted to speak to me, yes? Well, here I am. Let’s speak.”

“I’m not talking to you,” I say as my eyes veer towards Geneva at his side. She looks miserable.

“I-I came to see my sister,” she explains. “When she left my apartment, she was upset.”

I’m silent for a while, weighing my options. Then I jerk my chin toward the iron gates up the drive. “Walk to the front.”

The man on security looks bewildered as he opens the gates for us. Milana drives through, but she’s got her lips pursed together tightly.

“You don’t think I should let him in,” I infer.

She doesn’t so much as glance at me. “I wouldn’t dream of giving you my opinion or advice,” she says coldly. “I’m just a whore who works for you.”

“Milana—”

She hits the brakes hard, throws the car in park, and leaps out. She’s halfway to the front door before I can even begin to formulate a coherent sentence.

Not that I blame her. I deserve that and worse.

I pry myself out of the car and wait for Adrian and Geneva to walk up. Milana doesn’t go inside. She stands in a pocket of shadow by the threshold of the main entrance, her hands folded across her chest and one toe tapping again and again.

A pair of silhouettes emerge from the darkness. Geneva looks skittish, but Adrian has a bloodthirsty look in his eyes. I’ve known him long enough to know what that expression means.

He wants war.

Good. It’s about fucking time.

No wonder that fight back at the bar didn’t satisfy me the way it should have. This is the fight I’ve been spoiling for.

“Come on,” I growl, leading the way into the house.

Unconsciously, I move into the blue room. The one that opens out into the garden. The one that holds our mother’s grand piano.

Adrian’s eyes land on it immediately. Out of the darkness of night, I can see him properly for the first time. He has changed a lot.

He’s got more muscle now. His beard is tight and ragged on his cheeks. It might suit him if he’d taken the trouble to groom himself. As it stands, he’s a few track marks shy of looking like a lifelong heroin addict. The baby brother of my childhood is mostly gone, swallowed up by hard eyes and scabbed-over knuckles and a baggy green army jacket with stains in every crease.

But there are still some parts of him that I do recognize. The way his eyes crinkle at the corners. The scar on his wrist. The gold ring that’s practically a security blanket at this point.

In the tiny little details, I still see glimpses of the boy I knew.

That just makes this all so much worse.

“What’s the matter, Milana?” Adrian asks, smirking at her as she slips in behind us. “Not happy to see me?”

“I was happy to hear you’d died,” she retorts. “You can make your own conclusions.”

He narrows his eyes at her, but the smile stays plastered on his face. It’s forced now, calculated. He came here with a plan.

But Adrian was never good at plans. Especially when he didn’t have his big brother on his side.

Milana remains on guard in the furthest corner of the room. Refusing to budge, but refusing to participate, either. She’s here for no other reason than for me. To watch my back. Despite her hurt, despite her anger, her loyalties haven’t shifted.

I have to remember to thank her after this. After I apologize, I’ll give her a raise, a car. Tattoo her name on my fucking forehead. Whatever she wants.

But that will have to come later.

My brother comes first.

“Adrian.”

The word surges through the air. And then his eyes meet mine, and I feel something kinetic pass between us.

We shared parents.

We shared a childhood.

And now, we’re on opposite ends of the same room, and our mother’s grand piano seems to be judging every single move we make.

“You found Mother,” I say, starting with the topic I dread the most.

“I would have told you,” he replies. “But I figured you were happy to let me believe that she abandoned us instead.”

“I was trying to—”

“Don’t!” he slices in with fury. “Don’t. Don’t fucking say you were trying to protect me.”

“You were so young when she left,” I say, shaking my head. “I thought you’d gotten used to her absence. I didn’t want to dig up old wounds, and for the longest time, all I had were suspicions.”

“Then you should have shared them with me.”

“Maybe,” I concede. “But so what? You were pissed that I didn’t tell you, so you decided to poison her against me?”

His jaw trembles with tension. If he’s wondering how I know all this, he doesn’t ask. “I didn’t want to lie to a dying woman.”

It takes everything in me to maintain my composure. “Cut the bullshit, Adrian. Who do you think you’re lying to now? I was there. I know all your demons. I know all your secrets. If you’re lying for Milana’s benefit, don’t bother. She knows you, too. And as for Geneva…” My gaze veers to June’s sister, who looks like she wants to be anywhere else but here. “She’s going to find out about you eventually. So why not now?”

“I-I just want to talk to my sister,” Geneva stammers.

I point to the exit. “She could be here by now. Go try to find her. You probably don’t want to be here for this next part anyway.”

She scampers away through the open door. Milana’s eyes follow her the whole way. But she still doesn’t budge from her spot in the corner of the room.

“Milana,” I say, “you don’t have to stay.”

“I know.” She makes no attempt to leave.