“We almost missed the pass. The safehouse is close now.”
“Shouldn’t we duck or something?”
“The glass on these jeeps is bulletproof. What does Anya’s security look like?”
“Fully armed and all over the place. But you already knew that.”
As we turn into the rocky road that leads towards the safehouse, I spot a line of guards. Their weapons are out and drawn. Apparently, they’ve already caught our scent.
I’m not surprised. It’s quiet up in the mountains and we’re in a caravan of jeeps. Not exactly subtle. Before Leo can bark an order at me, I unbuckle and open the passenger side door.
“Willow—”
I jump out of the jeep and slam the door.
“Hold it! Don’t come any closer.”
I recognize the voice instantly. “Armand.”
“Fucking hell,” he breathes. Immediately, the guns come down. Of course, that lasts only until Leo climbs out of the car.
“Ms. Viktoria, you brought him here?”
I’m about to apologize, but I stop myself. I have nothing to apologize for. I came here to see the woman who promised to protect my son.
I said a long time ago that I don’t want to be a victim anymore.
It’s time I started acting like it.
I draw myself up tall. “Where is she?” I demand.
Leo moves in next to me. I’d be lying if I said his presence didn’t make me stand a little taller.
“Ms. Viktoria, I can’t let you in. Not with him.”
I look towards the house. It’s a cabin, but it’s nothing like Leo’s. Where Leo’s is open with large windows and natural light, this cabin is just like its owner: cold and closed off. The small windows dotting the sides are covered with black curtains. There’s not a crack of daylight getting through anywhere.
It could just as easily be a prison.
Which is how I know she’s in there somewhere.
“Anya Mikhailov!” I scream at the top of my lungs. “Come out here and look me in the eye!”
The men look towards the house, concern written in the way they hold their guns, not sure whether to lower them or aim to kill.
They know the woman they work for. If I was anyone else, I’d be dead already.
But I’m not just anyone else. And they don’t know how she’ll react to me.
Truthfully, I don’t know how she’ll react to me either. She may have given birth to me, but this woman is not my mother.
“Anya!” I roar again.
The door to the cabin opens. I see one thick-heeled boot hit the snow-dusted wood on the front porch. Then she emerges.
She’s dressed in dark colors as usual. Gray tights, a black sweater, a black coat that falls to her ankles. Her hair hangs long and loose around her face.
“You should have known better than to bring the enemy to my door,” she hisses.
“I should have known better than to trust you with my son.”
“The attack was fast, Viktoria—”
“My name is WILLOW!” I scream.
I can feel everyone’s eyes on me. I have no idea what they think of me. Maybe they think I’m weak. Maybe they think I’m pathetic. Maybe they think crazy.
Hell, maybe I am all of those things.
But for once, I don’t fucking care.
24
LEO
I didn’t think she had it in her.
But watching Willow stand in front of a woman that even grown Bratva men are scared of, I can’t help but feel proud.
She’s confident, operating on the edge of fury as she stares down the Mikhailov bitch. She’s doing such a good job that I’m content to sit back and watch.
I glance over my shoulder and notice that Gaiman and Jax are standing next to their respective jeeps, watching the show with brazen enthusiasm. Well, Gaiman just looks mildly interested, but that counts as enthusiastic for him.
“Enough,” Anya snaps. “You’re making a scene.”
“Me?” Willow scoffs. “You promised to protect my son. And instead, you handed him over to Spartak fucking Belov!”
I can feel the rage pouring out of her. She takes a step forward, and I go with her. Anya’s men raise their guns immediately, reacting to me. But since Willow is at the forefront of this confrontation, Anya raises her arm, ordering her men back.
“You’re his grandmother!” Willow continues. “I thought he’d be safe with you. I thought you were strong. But all you are is an old woman who’s out of her depth.”
Well, fuck me. The girl’s got balls.
Anger flashes in Anya’s eyes. “It wasn’t as simple as you seem to think it was.”
“Explain it to me, then.”
“The attack was fast,” Anya says. “By the time the alarm was sounded, they were already in the compound. Pasha’s room was all the way in the west wing. Going to get him would have meant we were both captured.”
“Then you should have been captured,” Willow snarls. “He wouldn’t have killed you. You’re Semyon’s daughter.”
“Don’t be a fool, Willow. He’ll keep the child alive as insurance. He’d keep you alive as a weapon. But me? I’m more valuable to him dead than alive.”
“So there it is. You chose to save yourself,” Willow says. “I don’t know why I expected anything different. You always come first, don’t you? You were even too much of a coward to keep me. Though I should probably thank you for that.”
The venom Willow is spewing Anya’s way is intoxicating. I can’t take my eyes off her.
“Enough!” Anya bites out. “You’re not a child and this isn’t a fairytale. This is the Bratva. Hard choices have to be made.”
“And whether or not to trust you is no longer one of them.”
“So your answer is to trust him?” Anya glowers at me.
I take a step forward, ignoring the dozens of guns aimed at my head. “No matter what, I keep my promises. Can you say the same?”
“I don’t answer to you, Solovev.”
“I think you’ll find you do.” I place my hand on my gun. The guards tense in front of me, and I hear Jax and Gaiman advance into position.
“Stop!” Willow says, putting herself between the brewing fight. “For right now, we have one common enemy.”
“That doesn’t make us friends,” Anya says.
“Not by a long shot,” I agree.
Willow sighs. “So you two are going to go head to head and then whoever’s left is going to take on Belov. Is that it?”
“I don’t intend on taking on my father or Spartak,” Anya says.
“I do,” I say, looking Anya right in the eye. “I intend on gutting them both.”
She pulls her teeth back, bearing them at me. “I know what you want, Leo Solovev. But the Mikhailov Bratva is rightfully mine.”
“Is it?” I ask. “Because it seems like you’re not willing to do the work it takes to get it back.”
That stops her in her tracks for a moment.
“Anya,” Willow says into the tense silence, “let’s face it: you don’t have the manpower to take on Belov. But Leo does.”
“And after he is dead?” Anya asks. “What then, Willow? Leo is going to be the leader of the Bratva that is rightfully mine. Rightfully yours.”
“And after you and I are gone?” Willow asks. “Who takes over then?”
She frowns.