“Yeah, I know.”
“If you’re around in the morning, stay for breakfast. We have to catch up.”
“Sure,” Pav agreed.
Grisha leaned to the side a bit and his gaze landed on Viktoria where she was peeking out around Pav. “Have a good night, you two.”
Then, the man grabbed a bottle of water sitting on the island in the kitchen area before he disappeared into the hallway again. He didn’t make a sound as he left, but she heard the click of a door closing somewhere in the darkness.
“Who was that?” she asked. “How do you know him?”
Pav’s hand squeezed her side again. “In a minute. Come on.”
She didn’t question him. He led her across the main area of the loft, and she took in the few scattered toys in a corner. Not to mention the gaming system sitting in front of the large flat-screen television, currently paused on some war game. She looked back at the shoes lining the wall next to the door, realizing there were every size, from men’s boots to children’s. Same with the coats lining the wall on hooks.
“How many people live here?”
“As many as he can keep, or as many that need help for a time,” Pav replied quietly. “There’s five bedrooms in the back. They built them in as they needed them.”
“They?”
“Grisha and my father.”
Her heart stopped for a second as she realized what he was telling her. This was where he lived … before the Compound and the chambers. Before hell had come for him, this was the place he called home.
“Is it like a shelter now?”
“No, it’s just a home.”
Viktoria blinked, unsure of what to say.
Soon, he had led them to the back hallway where Grisha had come from earlier. At the very end, past all the rooms that were closed tight, he turned the knob on a door and opened it to a quiet bedroom. Against one wall rested a queen-sized bed that was still made, and a dresser with a small mirror. A smaller bed—a twin—rested on the other side of the room. It too was made and looked untouched.
“He thought my father would come back,” Pav said as he stepped into the room. She stayed in the doorway, taking in the space. On the dresser, there were framed photos. It wasn’t hard, even from her position, once the light was turned on, to recognize the young face of the child holding onto the hand of a taller man. It was Pav. “He knew Dimitri was doing business he didn’t approve of … dangerous business.”
“With my father?”
“People around Vadim,” Pav replied quietly.
Oh.
“But he said nothing because they needed money. They’d been friends since they were kids. He was there when my mother died; Grisha was there when I learned how to walk, or that’s what he told me. So he didn’t tell my father to stop—he just turned his cheek.”
“You said he thought your father would come back?”
“He left the room empty; didn’t touch anything. He never asked around because he knew what happened to people who asked about Boykov business. He just waited, yeah?”
She felt cold.
And warm, too.
It was strange.
“How did you come back here?”
Pav shrugged but didn’t turn around to look at her as he neared the dresser with the pictures. “Someone recognized my face when they took me to the fights for the first time … someone who was staying here at the time. He told me Grisha was still waiting for me, and if I knew how to get home, I was always welcome.”
“You must have come back, then.”
“I got away once. They took me out … details don’t matter. I came here. I was sixteen, I think.”
He thought …
He didn’t even know.
That broke her heart.
“Grisha knew my face instantly and brought me in. I was here a day before they came looking for me. They already knew about this place—they knew where to find me because I didn’t have a big world outside of my father. I went back because they left Grisha alone. They didn’t touch this place.”
“I’m sorry.”
Pav shook his head. “There’s nothing to apologize for. Vadim used this place as a reward, too. If I behaved, I could come back. He never told me when it would happen, they would just drop me off at the door, and let me go in. I would watch out the windows for when the black car would come back, and I would have to leave again. Grisha was always here; the room was always waiting just like it was when I left.”
“Pav—”
“Come in, close the door.”
She did and then crossed the room with quiet, quick steps until she was right behind him. This man … he was always silent, lost in his mind and thoughts. When he spoke, he often said things that went deeper than just what he offered on the surface. This was something he’d never spoken about in all their time together, and she had to wonder if he even really allowed himself to think about it.
Was he scared they’d take it?
Would they?
Not anymore.
She knew that.
Viktoria wrapped her arms around Pav’s middle and hugged him tight. She rested the side of her face right between his shoulder blades. The cool leather of his jacket smoothed against her cheek, but underneath it, she could feel the way his body vibrated.
It wasn’t easy to be here.
She wished she could make it better.
“He changes the sheets and keeps everything dusted,” Pav murmured, his fingers drifting over the framed photographs. “But he knows he’s not doing it for my father anymore. He does it for me.”
“Because he cares.”
“I forgot what that was.”
“I don’t think you did,” she whispered.
He’d always known how to care with her.
