Chapter Fifteen
Mira
I’m lying there in the darkness in the middle of the night, trying to deal with this new information about Dad. I can’t fit this information into my heart any more than I can fit a square peg into a round hole.
He slaughtered his closest friends! Mr. Dragusha was his mentor and Mrs. Dragusha was an innocent woman. A wife, a mother. He killed them in cold blood.
And he sent away the boys and hunted Aleksio. My belly twists.
And Aleksio went to the restaurant, walking right into the middle of his stronghold. It’s crazy, even with me as a hostage.
I slide my palm up the side of the bed where he was, up and down. It feels like he was just here, holding me, talking to me. I felt safe and good in his arms. Like coming home.
Which is crazy, because this shit is everything I’ve ever tried to escape. It’s like I’m being sucked into some sort of enchanted looking glass, but this is not my real life. And things are going to get bloody.
Aleksio and Viktor are good for their promises—I know it in my bones. Aleksio said he wouldn’t kill Dad, and I know they’ll uphold that promise. But what will Dad do?
And what will Viktor do? He promised to kill me if Kiro doesn’t turn up alive. If Kiro is dead, Viktor will need to uphold that promise. He’ll need to. And Aleksio will try to stop him.
Uhhhhh what a mess. Either way, I have to get out of here.
I can’t go back to the Advocacy Center. It will be too easy for them to find me there—that fake Mira persona works only if nobody’s kicking the tires.
I’ve decided to flee to an old high school friend’s family cabin near the Mississippi. We used to sneak out there for the weekend. I know where the key is hidden. Nobody would find me. Not Aleksio, not Viktor, not Dad’s people.
I go back to the door and put my ear to the wood. I find myself hoping that the brothers unite and fulfill the prophecy. Take back the Black Lion clan. Aleksio on the throne.
My mind goes to Aleksio on the couch in the hotel room and the way he focused down at me. The way he handled me.
The hot brutality of it.
Stop it! I rub my aching head. I have to save myself.
They come back in a frenzy a while later. It’s the sound of trouble. Relief whooshes out of me when Aleksio walks back in.
He reaches out, as if to touch my cheek. “Don’t worry, dear old Dad’s still breathing. We have a lead on Kiro. His adoptive family.”
My belly turns. “Dad was holding back? No…”
“We didn’t get the address from your dad directly,” he says. “He had an idea where we could look.”
“In other words, he withheld information.”
“Don’t take it…”
“Personally? That Dad played chicken with me? Tell me that’s not what you were about to say. I mean, don’t take it personally that Viktor almost sawed off my finger, and that was a gamble Dad was willing to take?” I wrap my arms around myself. “We’re supposed to have each other’s backs.”
“He didn’t think we’d really do it.”
“Is that supposed to be consolation?”
“Kinda.” Aleksio goes to the dresser and throws me a white shirt and an orange skirt with pink flowers. Bright and summery, the opposite of him. There’s nothing more to say. He knows it. I know it.
Tito comes in and tosses him a holster. “Saddle up, brat,” he says, using the name for him that Viktor often uses. Pronouncing it all Russian-sounding.
Five minutes later, we’re in the car. It’s around two in the morning, judging from the dashboard clock.
I’m in the dark back seat with Aleksio.
“Where are we going?” I ask.
“Following the lead,” Aleksio says.
“To Kiro?”
“We hope.”
Tito’s riding shotgun, and Viktor drives. His face is really beaten up, one eye so swollen I’m sure he can’t see through it. He pulls out his flask and takes a swig of vodka, even though he’s driving.
I make sure my seatbelt is snug. There’s only the waist kind, unfortunately. It’s an old Jaguar, and you can tell it’s been modified. Probably bulletproof. We’re in a convoy of guys, a Hummer up ahead, an SUV behind.
Aleksio’s focused on his phone. In his own world. Looking for his brother all this time and now we’re nearing the moment of truth. He’s doing a lot of mindless scrolling. Now and then he looks out the window. He’s worried. They seem to think Lazarus might be ahead of them.
Eventually we’re out of the city on a two-lane road. The terrain is darker. Signs less frequent. He clicks off his phone, but he still looks at it. A blank, black screen. “I know he’s still alive.”
I say, “He’s lucky to have you.”
Aleksio turns away, staring out at where our headlights flash on the edge of rows of crops. He presents such a good front, but there’s so much underneath with him. “Unless Lazarus got there first. Because of us. Because of me.”
“No, even then he’s lucky to have you.”
More phone staring. Viktor and Tito converse softly in the front. It’s as if Aleksio and I are in another world. Even when we were kids, we managed to make our own world.
“You think he’s lucky to have us even if us looking for him is what gets him killed? Because I’m not so sure about that.”
“You’re risking your life to find him,” I say. “Don’t you think he’d risk his to find you?”
“It’s a choice that should be his.”
“I would risk my life to see my mother again,” I say.
He nods solemnly, eyes averted.
“And you’re risking your life to find Kiro,” I continue. “Why wouldn’t he want the same?”
He takes my hand, touches the finger Viktor wanted to chop off. “I’m so sorry for what Viktor did. And your ring.”
“Who cares?” I say.
He keeps my hand, there in the dark back seat.
I slide nearer to him and lay my head on his shoulder.
He threads his fingers through my hair. “Bad news,” he whispers. “I think you might be getting Stockholm syndrome.”
“You wish,” I whisper.
He plays with my hair. Heat licks up my spine.
“What do you think Kiro will be like?”
He lets go of my hair. “I have no clue.”
“Take a guess,” I say.
“I dunno. He was a big baby. Maybe a football player. Or he could be in college with a chance at a nice life. He may be going to school to be a cop.”
“That would be unfortunate,” I joke.
Aleksio snickers softly. “We’d have to corrupt him. That can be time consuming.”
“Or he could be an artist. Or a musician. The lead singer in a Hootie and the Blowfish cover band.”
“Actually, then we would have to kill him.”
I snort.
“I’d love him whatever he is,” Aleksio says.
“You and Viktor hit it off right away, I bet.”
“Yeah.”
“You look alike,” I prod.
“Yeah,” Aleksio says. “The guys at the place he was working in Moscow, they all knew the minute I walked in that I was his brother. We have the same sense of humor, too. Separated at birth, but we share a brain.”