“What’s on your mind?” she asks.
“What makes you think there’s something on my mind?”
“That look on your face.”
I smile. “I didn’t realize I was easy to read.”
“You’re not,” she replies. “But we’ve spent a lot of time together lately and I’ve starting picking up on some of your tells.”
“Hmm… that’s dangerous.”
She laughs. “You’re worried?”
“A little.”
“About the Bratva?”
I hesitate. I’ve never been open with my feelings. It was something that used to drive Marisha crazy. She’d ask me what was on my mind all the time, and every time I would reply with the same set of answers.
Nothing.
I’m fine.
Nothing’s wrong.
It’s just Bratva business.
I look up at Esme, at her beautiful, empathetic hazel eyes, and I decide to be better than I was then.
“Yes,” I admit. “I am worried about the Bratva. But I’m also worried about you and the baby.”
Her eyes go soft. She gets up from her seat and walks around the table to me. She sits on my lap and puts her hands around my shoulders.
“I’m stronger than I look,” she reminds me.
I smile, remembering that she had said something similar once upon a time, when we’d still been strangers.
“I know.”
“And our baby is strong, too,” she tells me. “How can he be anything else, with a father like you?”
I detect a note of pride in her voice. It makes me feel like I’m eight fucking feet tall.
I tell myself that I need to be deserving of that pride. I need to make sure she’s safe.
I will not repeat past mistakes.
I will not lose another wife.
I will not lose another child.
“You keep referring to the baby as he a ‘he’,” I point out. “Mother’s intuition again?”
She tilts her head as if she’s just now noticing that tendency. “No, it just comes out that way, I guess. I honestly have no idea what we’re having.” Then she gives me a sneaky side glance. “Do you have a preference?”
“My preference is for healthy,” I say truthfully. “Beyond that, I don’t care.”
She cups my face with both hands and stares at me for a long moment. I can see the optimism shining bright inside her.
The optimism that I lost a lifetime ago, if I ever had it in the first place.
“But I do hope the baby gets your eyes,” I add.
“Yeah?”
“They’re the most beautiful eyes I’ve ever seen.”
“That’s a big statement.”
“Go big or go home, isn’t that what they say?”
She laughs and kisses me softly on the cheek.
My hand settles over her burgeoning belly. I marvel at the changes her body has gone through in such a short span of time. She has a bump now, still small, only in the developmental stages, but it’s undeniable.
She has a glow, too. Though I suspect that has something to do with the mountain air and the absence of stress.
“Now stop worrying and eat,” she scolds, giving me another kiss before moving back to her seat.
We eat our breakfast together. When we’re done, I wash the dishes while Esme spreads herself out on the sofa.
It’s stained and torn in places, but it serves its purpose and even I have to admit, it’s comfortable as hell.
She picks up one of the books she bought earlier than week when we went down into town together. She’s been through three books in as many days and her appetite for them only seems to grow.
I slip my jacket on and kiss Esme on the forehead on my way out.
When I glance back at her, her eyes are fixed on me, a small smile playing across her face.
“What are you looking at?” I ask, wagging my eyebrows at her.
“Oh, nothing,” she replies. “Just… enjoying my view. Go ahead and leave so I can get a look at my favorite part.”
Laughing, I head down to the car. It’s amazing how my mood lifts every time I’m near the cabin, and how quickly it deteriorates the moment I leave Esme behind.
It’s like the second I lose sight of the lodge, my mind shifts back to its old ways. To tactics and alliances and violence. So much violence.
I maneuver the car down the winding track that leads to the town.
As I drive, my mind ticks off the names of all the men who have pledged their loyalty to me. They have all risked their lives and the safety of their families in order to do so.
I vow never to forget that. I owe them a debt of gratitude. I plan to repay it the moment I take back control of the Bratva.
My hands clench around the steering wheel as my mind settles on my uncle. The betrayal was all the worse because of our blood ties to one another.
But I’m starting to realize, that blood counts for nothing.
Cillian is more family to me than Budimir ever was.
I comb through every single past memory I have of Budimir, and when I do, I see each encounter and each conversation with new eyes.
I remember how he used to whisper in my ear before every meeting with Stanislav, giving me advise that directly contradicted with my father’s views.
He used to set me up.
And, fucking fool that I was, I played right into his hands.
I’ve always considered myself closer to my uncle than my father. Now, I see that I was being played from the beginning by a man too cunning and too greedy to settle for second fiddle.
Your time is coming, old man.
I will look down at your mangled body soon and smile.
62
Artem
The town near Devil’s Peak is a small one. There’s a few different restaurants, one bar, and an essential goods store.
Driving further will take me to a stretch of hilly land where the farmers live. They’re the ones who supply the local stores with fresh produce every day
But they also supply certain parties with items when someone needed something a little more… delicate.
Like I need today.
So I keep driving through the town and into the foothills beyond. I have
