“What’s the difference?” Pavel says. He’s angry now—his face is as impassive as ever, but I see the tension in his shoulders and hands. “You think there’s good Bratva and bad Bratva? They’re all the same. Criminals, thieves, murderers.”
“There’s absolutely a difference! You’ve killed men in the name of duty—does that make you a murderer? The context of the action matters.”
“I’m a police officer!” Pavel shouts.
It’s strange to hear him shout. He doesn’t usually do that. But no amount of yelling is going to change my mind.
“Yes, you are,” I say. “And half the officers are worse than the Bratva. There’s good and bad men within every system—the government, the military, the police force, and even the Bratva. You’re a good man within a corrupt system. So is Dom.”
Pavel doesn’t like this comparison at all.
“Your mind is twisted by your upbringing,” he says to me.
It feels like he slapped me. Maybe he’s right—maybe my morals are skewed. I never had anyone to teach me right from wrong.
But I know what I feel.
I trust Dom. And I would never betray him.
“I won’t give you any information on the Petrovs,” I say to Pavel.
“Oh, you won’t? What if I tell you I won’t prosecute the case against your father, then?”
My stomach churns. Everything I’ve done, I’ve done to put my father in jail. It’s been my only driving force, the thing that kept me alive, since the moment he put a bullet in my brother’s head.
But Pavel isn’t much of a card player. He’s got the straight, and I’ve got the flush.
“Don’t play games with me,” I tell him. “I know you still want to get my father as badly as I do. I’m not helping you with the Petrovs, but I swear to you, I’ll do whatever it takes to put my father in jail. I’m not backing out of that.”
Pavel watches me through his wire-rimmed glasses. His mustache twitches as he tenses his lips. At last, he lays his hands flat on the table and pushes himself into a standing position.
“Alright,” he says.
“That’s it?”
“What more is there to say? We’ll work together to take down the Kazarians. I’ll handle the Petrovs on my own.”
“I’m still going to see Dom,” I tell him.
“I suppose I can’t stop you,” Pavel says. “You may be posing as my daughter, but I’m not your father. I’m not going to lock you up. Just understand, if your family finds you, if they snatch you off the street on one of your little field trips to meet your boyfriend, I won’t be able to get you back again. You know better than me what they’ll do to you.”
Yes. I know exactly how they treat traitors. Death would be mercy. And they’re never merciful.
“The same goes for the Petrovs. I won’t compromise my investigation if you get yourself in trouble.”
“I know that,” I tell him.
He checks his watch again.
“I’ve got to go to work.”
He straightens his tie and heads for the door. Just as he’s about to open it, I say, “Pavel, wait.”
“Papa,” he corrects me, without turning around. He’s strict about maintaining our cover, even when we’re alone.
“Papa,” I say. The word brings a lump to my throat. Pavel isn’t my father. But he’s the only person I ever called Papa.
I remember when he found me in the woods, at the extraction point. I was barefoot and freezing, my feet bleeding from the long run over rocks and ice. He lifted me up in his arms, carrying me to the car that was waiting precisely where he said it would be.
He’s never lied to me. He’s never let me down.
“Thank you,” I tell him. “For everything you’ve done for me.”
“I will get that ledger,” he says. “I promise you.”
“And I’ll be here to translate it.”
19
Dom
Lara has been coming to meet me regularly since our night together. We’ve been going to cafes and restaurants and to her art classes as usual. But I want her to come to the monastery again. I want her to meet my brother.
“Do you think you could sneak out again?” I ask her.
“I don’t have to sneak out,” she says calmly. “I told Pavel everything.”
“WHAT?” I shout. “Everything?”
“Yes,” she says. “He knows I’ve been seeing you. He’s not going to try to stop me.”
“He hasn’t put a wire on you or something, has he?”
Lara frowns at me.
“I hope you’re joking. Because I would never do that.”
“I know,” I hastily assure her. “I know you wouldn’t. But I can’t believe he’s not going to try to use you to get to my brother.”
“Of course he tried,” Lara says. “I just refused.”
“And you think he’ll take no for an answer?”
Lara sets down her sandwich. We’re sitting in a little cafe on Troitskiy Prospekt, eating outdoors because it’s a beautiful day.
“Pavel and I have an arrangement,” she says. “We’re partners, until my father is sitting in prison. He’s not going to do anything to jeopardize that, and neither am I.”
“I don’t like that plan,” I tell her flatly. “Testifying against the Bratva is a fucking awful idea. Do you know how many witnesses have been shot, stabbed, or blown up on the way to the courthouse? Pavel won’t be able to hide you, once the court proceedings are underway. He’ll have to give his list of witnesses. They’ll know that he has you. They’ll be able to find out where you’re staying. And that’s even assuming Pavel can get the ledger, and then arrest your father.”
“That’s how it has to be,” Lara says stubbornly.
I don’t like this at all. I can see a hundred ways of this ending horribly for Lara, and only one way of her getting what she wants.
“Why though?” I demand. “Lara, I love you. Your father has no idea where you’ve gone. Why don’t you leave Pavel before he finds out? Come stay at the monastery with me. I’ll protect you. I’ll take care of you. Then when your father has started to forget, when he relaxes his guard . . . I’ll fucking kill him.”
I can see that this offer appeals to her. At least, the part about coming to stay with me. She bites her lip, her eyes large and luminous. But then she shakes her head.
“Killing my father isn’t enough,” she says. “He needs to truly suffer. The only thing he cares about is his own power and control. The only way to hurt him is to take away his freedom.”
This is insane. I’m so frustrated that I want to flip the table over, scattering our food into the street. I can’t stand the idea of Lara getting herself killed in this fool’s errand for justice. The only way I can protect her is to keep her right next to me.
But she is fucking stubborn. The only way to win her over is with patience.
“Fine,” I say with great effort, barely keeping a lid on my temper. “Come home with me tonight. Meet my brother and Sloane. Even if you’re still determined to work with Erdeli, you could at least come stay with us.”