Page 39 of Cruel Juliet

That’s what aches now. Even knowing how vicious he became, I still wanted him to be someone else. Deep down, I never stopped hoping he could be the kind of brother I so desperately needed.

“I wish things had been different for him,” I admit. “I wish he could have been someone else. Someone better. But he wasn’t. He never even tried to be.”

“Were you close?” Petyr asks. “You and your brother?”

“No.” I shake my head. “Not really ever. Anatoli and I could barely exchange two words without fighting. He’d cut me down before I even opened my mouth. He made sure I knew my place in the family. Still?—”

I swallow hard.

“Still, you wish he was different,” Petyr fills in for me.

I nod weakly. “I do. I can’t help it. If he’d had even a shred of kindness in him… If Dad ever taught him any… Maybe things wouldn’t have ended the way they did.”

I lift my eyes to Petyr. His face is shadowed in the firelight, unreadable. He watches me for a long moment, then asks, “Whatabout your other siblings? You have two other brothers and a sister. Were you close?”

“Kind of,” I whisper. “Maksim is the closest to me in age, but it was probably Lara I was closest to. My sister.”

His head tilts, his eyes narrowing a little. “Are you still close?”

I’m not sure what he thinks I’m gonna say. Does he believe I might be passing notes with her about Gubarev secrets through messenger pigeons or who the fuck knows what?

I shake my head. “No. Lara was married off to one of my father’s associates when she was eighteen. She left, and I never saw her again.”

The fire pops, a sharp crackle that fills the quiet.

Memories crowd in before I can stop them. Lara brushing my hair when I was little, humming songs under her breath. Sneaking sweets into my pocket when no one was looking. Slipping into my room at night to whisper stories when Father’s shouting downstairs kept me awake.

She was gentleness personified in a house that had none of it, soft and kind in ways that made me believe the world outside our walls might hold something better.

The day she left is burned into me. I watched her walk out of the front door in a pale dress, her skin paler still. Her face was calm, but her eyes weren’t.

I wanted to run to her, grab her hand, beg her not to go. But I couldn’t. I was only twelve. I just stood still while the car door closed and carried her away.

And that was it. She vanished into someone else’s life, and mine was emptier for it.

Petyr’s voice cuts through my thoughts. “Do you miss her?”

My throat tightens as I nod. “Every day.”

I miss the way she tried to shield me. She made me laugh when everything else felt heavy. That was more of a blessing than either of us ever realized.

“I’m sorry,” Petyr says. For once, he sounds genuine. “That can’t be easy.”

I blink hard into the fire. ”Sometimes I wonder if she’s safe. If she’s happy. Or if her life turned out to be…”The same as mine,I’m about to say, but stop myself and say instead, “… less than what she deserved.”

If Petyr understands what I’m thinking, he doesn’t show it. “How long ago did she leave?”

“Almost thirteen years ago.” My throat closes up. ”I hate that I never got to say goodbye properly. She just left, and the world swallowed her whole.”

That’s what happens to women in the Bratva world. Our brothers fight wars, our fathers strike deals, and we women are the ones left to live with the consequences.

I know if things stay the same, it will happen to me, too.

And then one day, it will happen to my daughter.

Petyr leans closer. His hand lifts to cup my face. His palm is rough and warm against my cheek.

My breath stalls. He tilts my chin until my eyes meet his, like he’s searching for something buried deep in me. Truth, lies, anything he can use.