It felt strange to sit at the Tolstoi family table. The Bratva kings were of course at the head of the table. Talia’s mother served the food. I didn’t really eat, my stomach could not handle it.
I looked round the table. I had to blink at the surreal feeling of being here, and having, all this, a new family. My lungs squeezed and a pit formed in my stomach. The last time I had been sitting around a table enjoying food, my family was killed. And I was taken away.
I looked down at my hands and stared. I closed my eyes. I could still feel Anri gripping my right hand as Jakhua walked into the yard. I could still feel Zoya holding my left hand, then crawling into my arms and pressing her nose into my neck.
A lump clogged my throat as those memories surfaced. My breath began to quicken as it hit me precisely what I’d lost. This could’ve been my life. I could’ve had my family. Watching them grow, having the same bond.
It was so much. Too much.
I was blindsided by too many memories slamming around my brain. Hearing the laughter from the Russians eating and sharing love was too much. I was going to lose it. I needed to leave the table. I—
Then a soft hand slipped into mine and gently squeezed. My eyes snapped open. Immediately my gaze joined with a dark brown gaze.
Talia.
Her beautiful face looked up at me. I could see the concern in her face. I could feel her worry for me in my heart. Her hand squeezed again, and she leaned in to press a kiss to my cheek. My eyes drifted to a close at her touch. I held on tight. Held on until the pain from the surge of memories stopped.
As I opened my eyes, I felt the stares arcing our way. I looked around the table, Talia’s hand still in mine, and I saw all eyes watching us. Talia’s mother’s eyes were shining as she looked at her daughter. But it was Luka’s face that caught my attention. Exhaling, I met his gaze. I saw something that helped me breathe: his understanding.
Luka sat back in his chair and looked to his father. “I need to take Zaal somewhere.”
Ivan placed his fork on his plate. Casting me a wary glance, he nodded his head. Luka stood, and he nudged his head in the direction of the door. Meeting each of the Bratva kings’ eyes, I bowed my head and I slowly, respectfully rose from the chair. Talia’s hand was still gripping mine. When I looked down at her she got to her feet, too.
Facing her brother, she said, “I’ve just got him back.” Her steely brown eyes met mine. “I go where he goes.”
A smile spread on my lips and I brought her hand to my mouth. I kissed her warm skin and Talia’s face flushed.
Luka pulled his chair and reached out for Kisa, his wife. “You come, too, solnyshko.”
Kisa smiled up at her husband and got to her feet. Luka wrapped her in his arm and looked to his father. “Send someone to Durov’s place”—he pointed at me—“it’s now his.”
Ivan clicked his fingers at a guard. “Prepare the apartment.”
Luka’s eyes met mine. “Let’s go.”
A car drove us through the streets of Brooklyn. My eyes drank in all the derelict buildings of a place called Brighton Beach, and the people walking about. At times I had to close my eyes. I did not know how to cope with all the new things I was seeing.
But Talia’s hand held mine. And when she felt me tense or lose my breath, her palm and lips would meet my cheeks, calming me down.
The car stopped at tall black gates. Luka and Kisa exited the car first, followed by Talia and I. I stared up at the black gates and the green beyond. The grass was filled with rows of stone objects.
The guard unlocked the gates and we walked through. Luka turned to me and said, “Zaal, come with me. I have something to show you.”
I nodded. Talia reached up and kissed me on the cheek. “You go with my brother. I’ll stay here.”
Kisa moved beside Talia. “I’m going to visit my mama, you want to come with me, Tal? I have something to tell you.”