Page 41 of Deadly Knight (The Bratva’s Elite #2)

There’s a knock on Dimitri’s door. It’ll only be one of two people, but a quick guess has it as Vanessa. Since Dimitri left one week ago, it’s typically Vanessa over Anastasia who comes by to check on me.

I swing the door open to Vanessa, as presumed, with Veles beside her. She rocks back on her heels, looking sheepish for a woman who owns this place.

“Hey. Want to get out of here?” She jerks her head towards the stairs. “As in, the mansion. I have to go into the city for something.”

She’s allowing me out of the house?

I must look a bit too excited, because she quickly holds up her hand. “Only if you promise not to run.”

Shockingly enough, my reassurance isn’t fake. “I won’t. We both know you’d catch me before I made it ten feet.”

“True,” she replies with a shrug before turning away from the door, waving for me to follow.

By the front door, she pets her dog goodbye, then leads me outside and to the side of the mansion.

I’m following behind her, my lungs sucking in the freshest air I’ve had all week.

Who would have thought what a week inside could to do a person, but fuck, it feels amazing out here.

The gravel underfoot, the crunch of grass, the breeze.

It’s so much cleaner than Toronto air, which is bogged down with smog, exhaust fumes, and cement, and my lungs appreciate the reprieve after a decade.

At the end of the house, a black car is waiting, a driver holding the door open for us. It’s striking to consider this is how some people live. Even when dating Dimitri, he drove us everywhere and never relied on Bratva employees, so I didn’t get the entire sense of it back then.

She follows my gaze to the driver. “Normally, I’d take my bike, but figured you wouldn’t be comfortable getting on the back of one.”

“I’m guessing you don’t mean a bicycle, so yeah, no, this is better.”

Vanessa thanks her driver before gesturing for me to get in first. Even now, she’s cautious, but I have no reason to run. I’d get nowhere.

Once the car starts driving, she strikes up a conversation, casually mentioning, “Spoke to Dimitri last night. By text, anyway.”

“Yeah?” Excitement is apparent in my tone. The sooner he returns, the sooner the threat is gone, and the sooner I go home.

“He’s mad you’re not locked up in his room night and day. I know what it’s like to be trapped, and it’s not fair.”

“Did he say when he’s coming back?”

She shakes her head. “Sounds like soon, if that’s any consolation.”

It’s not, but I manage a small, forced smile, keeping to her good side.

The remainder of the drive passes quickly, the route old but familiar.

As we take the first exit into downtown Moscow, I recall the bakery that was once on this very corner, wondering if it’s still operating.

Mama used to enjoy their bread, so we shopped there often.

When the car turns the corner, there is it.

Same old-fashioned style but with a brighter, updated sign.

I find myself pressing closer to the window as the car continues heading into the downtown core.

Coloured roofs and cobblestone roads draw my focus to the differences between here and Toronto.

Toronto is all high-rises and cement. It’s cold and unfeeling and busy, while Moscow is vibrant with life, colours, soul .

I miss it.

It’s a fact long buried due to necessity, something else hidden behind my walls.

To survive in Toronto meant focusing on the aspects I enjoy rather than the numerous ones I don’t.

It’s too unfamiliar, busy, and chaotic. Noisy with people rushing around, incessant on not missing the bus or train rather than waiting five minutes for the next one.

I pretend to enjoy the chaos and high-rises while actually missing Moscow.

Regardless of the memories attached to the city, there’s a vibe in this place—familiar, welcoming, home —that Toronto doesn’t have and probably never will.

One I’m feeling now from behind a car’s window.

And one that doesn’t have me reliving the past, how I always assumed I would.

“Miss it?” I twist to face Vanessa, taken aback by her question. A shake of my head is my first lie, unwilling to let anyone in on the truth, but she only chuckles. “Liar. It’s okay to. Ever think of returning?”

“Sometimes,” I admit, downplaying the truth.

Vanessa watches me with a slight tilt of her head, suggesting once again she sees right through me. “Why’d you never come back?”

“Would you, if you lived through what I had? Visiting would only draw up the memories.”

Except it hasn’t this time. Not really.

She’s silent for a moment, her gaze drifting to the nearest building we’re passing.

“I’m not sure. I’d like to think nothing would scare me away, but surviving what you had might give me a different perspective.

I suppose I understand why you haven’t.” She pauses, rolling her lips together.

“You mentioned Moscow bringing up memories. How have you been handling it since Dimitri dragged you here?”

Uh…shit. I almost don’t want to respond, because the truth is…

better than I initially thought. When first facing Dimitri, when I hesitated opening my eyes, knowing my protective barriers would shatter and all my work undone—which ultimately is what happened—it wasn’t as bad as I’d anticipated.

After days staying in the very mansion once housing the true villain behind that night, I’ve been okay.

Even being around Dimitri’s stuff was a gamble; either his scent would be a trigger or be a sense of protection, and for the most part, it’s been the latter.

“Alright.”

She obviously wants to comment on the lie we’re both aware I’m telling but instead asks, “How’s living in Toronto?”

Finally, something I can tell the complete truth about.

“Busy. Hectic. I like it as well.” Not a lie; I just prefer Moscow’s brand of busy.

“It was uncomfortable at first. Russian isn’t a prominent language in Toronto, even if the city is very-multicultural, so after a while, I stopped speaking it entirely. ”

She frowns. “You’re losing your roots. Not selling me on Toronto.”

“I spent eighteen years here, and ten there. Almost the same amount. Toronto might not be my favourite place to live, but it’s become home.

The one I made, anyway. It’s good for me, being away from everything here.

My job is genuinely enjoyable, I have a couple friends, and, of course, my parents live there.

Besides, I might leave the city one day.

Canada’s large, and there are many places to choose from.

Someone suggested moving west, to the mountains that might remind me of Russia, so perhaps one day I will. ”

“Sounds like you’re convincing yourself to stay in the country rather than telling me,” she murmurs, to which I have no reply. “Sorry for asking. You looked nostalgic, that’s all.”

“It’d be impossible to not be.”

As the car takes a corner, she says, “Wish I knew you back then, but my stupid father kept me away at boarding school. When I graduated and came home for good, it was a year after yours, and Dimitri mentioned you two splitting.”

“Did he say anything else?”

“Only that you ended the relationship and left the country. Couples break up all the time, so I didn’t think much of it. I’ll admit, I was different back then. More selfish. Over the years, I should have put it all together, given the level of hatred he held for Ivan— holds for Ivan.”

The driver pulls behind a nondescript building, which ends the conversation. As nice as Vanessa is, my past doesn’t need to be bared more than it already has been. Keep delving into the past, and my foundation will be destroyed as well, making rebuilding my walls an endless chore.

Vanessa gets out first, blocking my way from the alley so the only direction available is the door. She’s subtle, even if I had no plans to attempt running.

She opens the plain black door with a firm jerk before leading me down the connected corridor. Besides the hum of conversation ahead, wherever we are is quiet.

Vanessa walks with a bit more rigidity than she does around the mansion, like she’s carrying extra confidence. It’s admirable, something immediately stoking my jealousy. Maybe with her level of sureness, I’d be strong enough to handle everything.

We pass a couple doors, but she doesn’t stop, continuing until we reach the main part; a space completely unexpected.

Couches and lounge areas are dotted around, with a small bar in the centre of the room. Curtains drape the walls, some as décor and others acting as sheer privacy screens to lounge areas. The overhead lights are a bright white, but I imagine this place later being dimmed for an erotic atmosphere.

Seated on the various couches are small groups of women, chatting, most draped in long black or white silk robes. They glance up at our arrival, smiling as Vanessa heads for the nearest group.

The three look from her to me, obviously wondering who the stranger is. Vanessa introduces me as “her friend”, which makes my stomach knot for a few reasons, before inquiring about the past weekend. Then she addresses each one individually, asking more specific things, like family and hobbies.

As my mind is trying to make sense of what exactly is happening, she’s leading me to the next group, repeating the same kinds of questions.

On and on it goes, until we’re heading back down the dark hallway and through the door we earlier entered from. I jog after her, lowering my voice so it doesn’t carry.

“Who are they?”

She holds up her finger, instructing me to wait, but once we’re inside her vehicle, she answers, “Staff of one of my brothels.”

“Brothels. Like a sex club?”

“More or less. They were my answer—sorry, Anastasia’s idea, technically—to a problem that arose when I ended the trafficking rings my father once controlled.”

Trafficking rings? I’ve always known from my time with Dimitri that the Bratva controls a lot of dark things…but the selling of people? That isn’t something I ever imagined. Although, considering Ivan’s twisted ideas, his depravity and actions make a whole lot more sense.

I think back to that night with a slightly new appreciation. All things considered, Ivan could have made me disappear in other ways. Breaking my spirit and my relationship was clearly the kinder option.

“Like…people?” Say no.

She grimaces. “Unfortunately. The Bratva had decades of business in the skin trade. In women and motherfucking kids . Simply being aware always disgusted me, but I couldn’t do anything about it until I became Pakhan.

Suddenly, I had the power to make those changes, so that’s exactly what happened.

Anyone in captivity went free, back to where they came from, and we opened brothels to replace the lost income.

Everyone in there”—her tone turns sharp, defensive—“is a paid employee with benefits and free health care.”

“That’s admirable.”

“It was the biggest change I put into place, because I refused to run an organization that profited off people like that.” She pauses, her eyes flicking to mine with a hesitation, an openness, not present earlier.

“I know what it’s like to be profited off of.

What it’s like to be tied to a bed and forced into something I didn’t want. ”

I freeze, deconstructing the meaning behind her words.

“My papa,” she explains. “He sold my virginity for financial and political gain. I had it nice, all things considered.” She snorts.

“No abuse or anything like that, but I can’t say the same for the people my father and his disciples had locked up in the numerous warehouses.

No one deserves to have their choices taken away.

” A sad smile creeps on her face. “It was only one versus your four, but I do relate on one level, Katya. Know you’re not alone.

We all have scars—you, me, Anastasia, the people now freed.

It’s how we display or hide those scars that matter. ”

With her mention of scars, my fingers graze the faded ones on my forearm, the realization that since coming here, nothing has stressed me out to the point I’ve scratched myself.

Her eyes track my movements, and I twist my arm to hide them.

With a small cough, she continues, “It was Anastasia’s idea for the brothels, so she’s in charge of the day-to-day operations, but I enjoy coming down once in a while and speaking to the staff.

Reminding them I’m not some figurehead and that their services are appreciated.

It also gives them the opportunity to bring concerns they might not want to tell Ana straight to me. ”

She’s downplaying everything I witnessed today, because that wasn’t a boss visiting her employees. That was a sign of being someone with a heart in a world packed with darkness.

“Vanessa, you don’t only talk to them. You asked about their kids, families, recent birthdays, weekend events, pets… You remember details about their lives.”

Red trickles over her cheeks. “It’s nothing. I don’t want them to think it’s like the old days, you know?”

“From the limited bit I’ve seen over my week here, none of this is like the old days.

” Dimitri used to hide me from the mansion and the monsters residing in it.

This time, he left me there, knowing it’d be the safest place.

That alone indicates the differences between Vanessa and her father, how things are run now versus under him.

She stares at her lap, her nail dragging over a rip in her black jeans. “Thank you. I spent years turning the Bratva into something I’m proud to lead and not being the kind of Pakhan my father was. The kind of person Ivan is, or my father’s Elite were.”

“I think you’re downplaying what you’ve done. What you continue to do.”

“Exactly like you’re downplaying how much you miss Moscow.” She lifts her head to catch my gaze, winking. “Well, if you’re actually enjoying this, we have two more brothels to visit.”