“Pasha,” Willow says coldly. “Half Mikhailov and half Solovev, that boy is the future of both Bratvas. And he’s with Spartak Belov right now. So I, for one, don’t understand what we’re standing here fighting about.”
Anya looks skeptical, but it’s clear she’s losing her own argument. She’s clinging to a power that no longer exists. And she’s starting to realize that it may never have existed at all.
“Did you even see them take him?” Willow whispers suddenly.
“No.”
Willow’s expression turns deadly. For a moment, I think she might run past the guards and throw a punch. I wait for it. She might be the only person in the world who can get away with that shit.
I can't touch Anya without a full-on war breaking out between Anya’s men and my own.
But Willow? Willow can spread pain as she sees fit.
Instead of fighting, though, she walks away. Away from Anya, away from her men and the cabin, away from heartbreak and fear. She heads into the trees.
“Boss…” Jax says, coming forward.
I hold up my hand. “No. Let her go. She needs time.”
I look up at her mother, standing in the snow with fists clenched. Anya meets my gaze, one eyebrow arched. Then she sighs. “No point in standing in this godforsaken cold. Come in. Your men can freeze. Mine, too, the useless fucks.”
I nod and follow her into her cabin.
Unsurprisingly, it’s just as bleak on the inside as it is on the outside. No decor, no finish, and what little furniture there is is a bone white. It feels like I'm walking into a hospital room. Maybe the psych ward.
Seems fitting.
“I like what you’ve done with the place.”
She glares and gestures towards the white, L-shaped sofa. “Sit. I’m not going to offer you anything to drink.”
I snort. “I wouldn’t drink it even if you did.”
“Worried I’ll poison you?”
“You wouldn’t dare.”
She meets my gaze. I can tell she’s sizing me up. “She’s in love with you,” she says suddenly, making a sharp detour.
“I know.”
“Do you?” she asks, raising an eyebrow. “Can’t say I’m surprised. Men believe women are in love with them even when they’re not.”
“I can’t imagine any man has been foolish enough to make that assumption about you.”
She smiles. “That almost sounds like a compliment.”
“It might have been. Haven’t decided yet.”
She brushes her hair out of her eyes. “Let’s not beat around the bush, Leo,” she says. “Why bother coming here? What do you want from me?”
“Information,” I say.
“And what do I get in return?” she asks, tilting her head to the side.
“Your life.”
She laughs. It’s a harsh, grating sound, like rocks scraping down sheets of ancient ice. “You really think you can kill me if I say no?”
“I know I can.”
“There are quite a few men who have tried in the past,” she says. “None of them have succeeded. I’m like a cat, but with more lives.”
“No one can live forever,” I tell her, without breaking eye contact. “Especially after they meet me.”
“I bet men quake in their boots when they meet you."
“Women, too,” I add, glancing down at her boots.
She laughs. “Cockiness is a young man’s game, Leo. But you play it well."
I lean back on the sofa and drape my arm over the cushion. “I like you, Anya. I’ll admit, I didn’t expect to.”
Her response is whip-quick. "You may have won over my daughter and made me a grandmother, but that doesn't mean I give a shit what you think of me."
“And I wouldn’t expect you to,” I say. “But what I do expect, I will get.”
“You can’t make me talk by threatening my life.”
“Then why did you run from Belov?” I ask. "Seems like threatening your life is the way to get results with you."
"I wasn’t about to let Belov win.”
“So that’s what this is about? Winning?”
She raises a brow. "Isn't that what it's always about?"
“No,” I say coldly. “For me, this is about getting my son back.”
“At the cost of your Bratva? Your life?” Anya asks. “Somehow, I don’t think so. You can always make another baby, Leo.”
I get to my feet and approach her. She doesn’t appear to be worried, but I know the truth.
She’s fucking terrified.
“Don’t worry,” I tell her. “You won’t need to use that gun you’re hiding.”
Her eyes spark with annoyance. She actually believed that I hadn’t noticed. Stupid woman.
“You don’t know me, Anya. So let me explain something to you," I say. “My Bratva means everything to me. But so does my family. Luckily for me, they’re one and the same. My Bratva is my family. My family is my Bratva. I won’t have to sacrifice my son for my empire, or the other way around.”
I lean in, forcing her to scrunch back against the hard, white sofa cushions.
“But even if I have to choose between the two, know this: I would burn my Bratva to the ground before I let anyone hurt my family.”
She matches my gaze, trying to determine just how serious I am. When she doesn’t find the chink in my armor that she’s looking for, she sighs. “Does that include Willow?”
“What do you think?” I ask calmly.
She gets to her feet. Even at full height and wearing high heels, she only comes up to my mid-chest. She hides her intimidation well, but I can see uneasiness in her eyes.
“I always thought I’d be in charge of the Mikhailov Bratva one day." She hides her anger behind another resigned sigh. “But it’s a man’s world.”
I shake my head. “No, it’s my fucking world. So the smartest thing you can do right now is pick the right side.”
One corner of her mouth turns up. It’s not quite a smile, but I figure it’s the closest thing I’m going to get to one. Jax would be proud.
“I have to say,” she remarks, “I can see why she made the mistake of falling in love.”
“Indeed,” I murmur.
But in my head, I’m thinking, She’s not the only one who fell.
25
WILLOW
It’s cold, but nothing compares to how I feel on the inside. I know I’m not far from the cabin, but I walk until I can’t hear the engines rumbling in the distance. Until the trees and snow smother all outside sound.
I walk until I feel like I’m alone.
Only when I feel like the last person on earth do I stop. I drop down next to a large boulder, the dappled surface blanketed in fresh snow. I put my head in my hands and I don’t look up for ten, fifteen, twenty minutes.
Or maybe it’s longer. I lose track of time as I sit there, contemplating every decision I’ve made. Every wrong instinct I’ve followed.
I’m sorry, Pasha. I’m so sorry…
“Torturing yourself won’t bring him back, you know.”
“Jesus!” I jerk my head up and see Leo standing between the trees. He keeps his distance, and honestly, I don’t blame him. I wouldn’t want to be anywhere near me, either.
“Come on,” he says. “Let’s go.”
“Go where?”
“Back to the cabin.”
Disappointment curdles in my stomach. Irrationally, I had hoped for something different. Some words of comfort, though I don’t deserve them. Maybe even an accusation would be nice. If Leo yelled at me, maybe I’d stop feeling so guilty.
“I’m not done being alone,” I say stiffly.
“I think you probably should be done with it.”
“Did you talk to her?”
He nods. “I did.”
“And?”