Chapter 161 161

Chapter 161 161
I find Jo in the garden by the pond. Nikita is sitting on one of the stone benches a few feet away. As usual, she seems lost in thought. I sit down next to her, but she doesn’t so much as acknowledge my existence for the first few minutes.

“She’s a wonderful kid,” Nikita says out of the blue. “So much like me when I was a little girl.”

“Yeah?”

Nikita nods. “I grew up without siblings, too, so I liked to play in the garden a lot. I made all the animals I found my friends.”

“Well, hopefully, Jo won’t always be an only child.”

I speak without thinking, and the moment the words are out of my mouth, I regret them. Especially when Nikita turns to me with a pointed look.

“I… I didn’t mean it… that is… I wasn’t—”

“Take a breath, Camila,” Nikita smiles. “Even if you did want to have more children with Isaak, why should you be embarrassed of that?”

I open my mouth, but I realize I don’t really know what I want to say. “Isaak and I… I’m not sure how realistic it is.”

“Why? Because you’re from different worlds? Successful marriages have been forged on much less. And unhappy marriages have been broken on much more.”

I raise my eyebrows. “Careful. I might think that you’re encouraging me.”

She gives a soft smile and watches Jo chattering to the tiny baby frogs hopping around on the lily pads floating in the pond.

“How do you do it?” I ask on impulse.

“Do what?”

“I don’t know… Like, watch all this happen. What do you do when you know your sons are in danger, but there’s no way to stop them and no way to keep them safe?”

She takes a deep breath. I can feel decades’ worth of her worry in that one exhale.

“Bratva men consider themselves strong,” she says. “They consider themselves brave and resilient and powerful. And they are all those things. But it’s still nothing compared to the strength and resilience of the Bratva women. Some of them fight right alongside their men. They play the game like all the men that surround them. Other Bratva women stay at home and wait to hear if their side has fallen or prevailed. That takes strength, too. To be sidelined, to be kept out of all the decisions but still have to bear the consequences.”

She turns to me. Her eyes are bright, fierce.

“If you decide to be a part of this life, Camila, you’re going to have to become a lot stronger.”

My eyes fall to my lap. “I’ll only be a disappointment if I try.”

“Why do you say that?”

I shrug. “Isaak’s world still feels like a novel to me. Some fictitious universe where the good guy always wins. But it’s not, and he doesn’t. It’s just all too real. I’m not sure I can handle it.”

“Oh, I don’t know about all that.”

I arch my eyebrows. “Do you know something I don’t?”

She gives a little shrug. “Well, I will say that as ‘normal’ as you claim to be, you still seem to crave adventure. You chase excitement.”

I shake my head. “I think you’ve got me mixed up with someone else.”

She smiles. “Think about it, Camila: how did you and Isaak meet?”

My cheeks color as I think about that night. How Isaak coolly and calmly sent that handsy dirtbag running for the hills. And then, of course, everything that followed. The drinks. The laugh. The bathroom.

The explosion.

Nikita doesn’t wait for me to say anything out loud. “And tell me this: how did you end up here in Isaak’s home again?”

We both know the answer to that: I’d ended up here because I’d called him.

She’s still not done. “And how did you end up engaged to Maxim?”

That one stumps me for a moment. I stop being defensive and I think about my motives. My real motives.

Yes, Maxim had pursued me furiously. But I’ve never had a problem saying no before. I could’ve done it then.

I still remember Maxim’s smart suits, his cocky confidence, his obvious power and wealth. They weren’t the reasons I had said yes.

But the truth wasn’t so far off.

The truth is, I accepted him only because he was a pale imitation of the man who plagued my dreams and my nightmares.

“He reminded me of Isaak,” I whisper.

Nikita puts her hand on my knee and gives it a gentle pat. It’s so out of character for her that I do a double-take. “Self-awareness is the first step, Camila.”

“First step to what?”

“Happiness.”

“And what if even that doesn’t work?” I ask with trepidation.

“Then at least you’ll land where I have.”

“Where’s that?”

“Acceptance.”

34

ISAAK

“It’s done,” Bogdan says, walking into my office.

“All the safehouses have been fortified?” Vlad asks.

“Yes.”

“Warehouses?” I ask.

“Done and done.”

“What about our properties?” I ask. “We have two clubs in the city that need extra protection.”

“I’ve doubled up on the security, and everyone entering will be frisked on their way in.”

It’s hardly foolproof, but it’s better than nothing. I turn my eyes back to the monitor in front of me. All I can see are a bunch of colored specks dotted around the screen.

There hasn’t been movement for the last twenty-four hours.

“Well?” Bogdan asks, craning to try and see the monitor himself.

“He hasn’t fucking moved,” I growl. “Not since the attack on our warehouse.”

“Seriously?”

“He’s been holed up in his fucking fortress. Nothing seems to go in or out.”

“You think that’s a good sign or a bad one?” Bogdan asks.

“Everything is bad where Maxim is concerned.”

“What’s our move?” Vlad asks. “If he doesn’t leave his compound, then—”

“Then we take the fight to him,” I say. “It doesn’t really matter. The only thing that changes is the location where he dies.”

“He’ll have the home court advantage,” Vlad points out.

“Good. He’ll need a few advantages if we’re going to keep this fight interesting. I wouldn’t want to be bored.”

Vlad and Bogdan exchange a smirk. I know they’re both excited at the prospect of an imminent battle. They’re seasoned enough to know the risks, but young enough that the adrenaline has already started pumping.

I can relate to the feeling, but I still find myself somewhat removed from it all.

I’m not sure if that’s age speaking, or just the weight of responsibility on my shoulders. Vlad and Bogdan are my righthand men; they bear the brunt of a lot of the decision making.

But the buck starts and stops with me.

It’s not something I’ve ever spent a lot of time thinking about. It just was. Like breathing or walking.

But my perspective has changed in the last few months. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out why that is.

Jo. Camila.

Realizing I was a father has forced me to face my own mortality. I could die in this fight. It’s not likely, but it’s certainly possible.

What would happen to Jo if that were to happen? What would happen to Camila?

“Heyo, we have movement,” Vlad says suddenly, jabbing a finger at the screen.

I circle back around my desk so I have a better view. A double-click of the mouse takes us from the GPS overview of the city to a live security camera feed aimed at Maxim’s compound. The footage is grainy at best, but it’s better than nothing.

On screen is a vehicle. A chromed-out, tinted black monstrosity.

“Bulletproof,” Vlad mutters, eyeing the details. “Whoever it is, is important.”

I squint at the screen, trying to catch the person inside the car. I zoom in, but the pixels split apart, distorting the image and giving me nothing more than nonsensical digital snow.