Page 23 of Her Darkest Possession (Baryshev Bratva #2)

INDIGO

Anatoly leads me outside to the black SUV waiting in the driveway. He opens the passenger door for me, something that still surprises me even after all this time. The pakhan of the Baryshev Bratva, opening my door like we're some normal couple on a date.

As we pull away from the mansion, I watch the grounds disappear through the window. There's a strange comfort in the silence between us—it doesn't feel empty anymore, just peaceful.

"Where are we going?" I finally ask, unable to contain my curiosity.

Anatoly's eyes stay fixed on the road, but his lips quirk up slightly. "If I told you, it wouldn't be a surprise."

I roll my eyes but can't help smiling. "I think I'm done with surprises these days."

"You'll like this one," he promises, reaching over to squeeze my hand.

The car winds through familiar streets as we drive west towards the city. Trees give way to jungle, and I can't help myself tensing up as we pass by the same place where Lola and Grisha intercepted me.

As if sensing my discomfort, Anatoly reaches over and takes my hand in his.

"You'll be alright."

I nod reflexively. But I can't help tensing as we drive. There are so many memories—some beautiful, and others horrific.

Buildings continue to grow denser and taller. The streets start looking all too familiar. And when we finally come to a stop, I know exactly where we are.

The barbershop.

Nostalgia washes over me as Anatoly parks the car. Even from here, I can see Marcus inside the barbershop, sweeping up the floor. The shop looks different somehow. The chairs visible through the window look new.

The cold smell of early winter tastes familiar on my tongue as we step out of the car.

I look down the street an see several black SUVs parking around the corner, and men stepping out of them a moment later.

One of the men looks over at Anatoly, nods once, and then turns away to start scanning the streets.

"What is this all about?" I ask, turning to Anatoly with confusion.

He walks me toward the door, eyes softer than usual.

"You'll see," is all he says.

The tiny bell rings at the top of the door when we open it, and I immediately smell the familiar scent of aftershave. Marcus looks up from where he's sweeping hair clippings, and his face breaks into a wide smile when he sees me.

"Indie!" he calls out, propping his broom against the counter.

Without thinking, I rush over and throw my arms around his neck in a tight hug.

"I'm glad to see you finally up and about," Marcus says when we part.

I smile at him. "And it's all thanks to you."

When I step back, I notice that Marcus's expression shifts slightly as he looks over my shoulder at Anatoly. The smile is still on his face, but there's a hint of wariness in his eyes.

"Mr. Baryshev," Marcus says with a respectful nod.

"Mr. Jackson," Anatoly returns evenly.

I glance around the shop to take in all the upgrades that now fill it. Not only have the chairs been replaced with new ones, but it seems that even the equipment has been upgraded. New scissors, new buzzers, and even an automatic soap foamer. Small things that all add up.

"The place looks amazing," I say, running my hand along the back of one of the chairs. "Are these new?"

Marcus nods, looking a little embarrassed. "Yep. Your husband's doing."

I turn to Anatoly with surprise. "Really?"

"Mr. Jackson didn't want money," Anatoly explains, his voice matter-of-fact. "But I felt that I owed him something for helping make sure you were safe. And he was very insistent that everything be above the board. This is the least I can do."

Marcus chuckles, shaking his head. "Man doesn't take no for an answer. And thanks to these upgrades, business has been good. Happier customers. Better tips. This place misses you, Indie."

I look around the shop, feeling a pang of nostalgia for the long shifts and familiar faces. "I miss this place too," I admit, running my fingers along the edge of the counter. "But I don't think I'll ever be able to come back here. Not really."

My eyes drift to the spot on the floor where I first saw Anatoly, where he covered me with his body while bullets shattered the windows and he protected me with his body. So much has happened since then.

Marcus nods thoughtfully, leaning against his broom. "Maybe that's for the best."

His eyes flick between me and Anatoly, taking in the way we stand together, the protectiveness in Anatoly's stance beside me.

"You were always destined for bigger and better things, Indie," Marcus continues, his voice gentle. "Not rubbing elbows with guys like me."

"I came from these same streets, Marcus," I remind him. "There's always a part of me that'll want to rub elbows with guys like you in places like this."

I glance back at my husband and smile.

"Even if I am married to him."

Marcus leans his broom against the wall and crosses his arms, a wry smile playing on his lips.

"Maybe so." he glances between me and Anatoly. "But it's not just me getting assistance, you know. That bodega down the street? The one run by Mrs. Diaz? They got all new refrigeration units last month. And Manny's Dominican spot on the corner got their kitchen renovated."

I look at Anatoly with surprise, but his expression remains carefully neutral.

"Even Alfonso McClusky's diner on the other end of the block got help with the rent," Marcus continues. "And have you noticed? The trash is actually getting picked up on time. Streets are cleaner than I've seen 'em in twenty years."

"Now that you mention it, yeah."

"And it's all thanks to you," Marcus says in matter-of-fact tone.

"Me? You mean Anatoly," I laugh it off then correct him. "I haven't done anything except make people worry."

"Without you, he would never have given a damn about this place.

" Marcus gives me a look he used to give me when I was being deliberately thick.

"Without you, this neighborhood would always just be another piece of territory to fight over, not somewhere people actually live and try to have something decent. "

The words strike me in my gut with how true they are.

Marcus continues, "You taught him how to care about something other than fighting and money. And if you didn't teach him that, then you reminded him that little people like us are worth protecting."

I find myself looking back at Anatoly as Marcus speaks. He stands there, straight as a stick. For the first time since I've met him, he seems almost like he's not quite sure what to do with himself.

I'm sure he's been praised by people before. Just as I'm sure that he's never been praised so genuinely by people whose lives he can improve with the snap of a finger.

I can't help but smile at the thought that this feared pakhan of the Baryshev bratva being uncertain of how to handle himself and the praises he's hearing.

And it's all because of me.

"Thank you," I say softly to Anatoly. "You didn't have to do any of this."

Anatoly shrugs, his eyes meeting mine. "I did it for you."

"See? Exactly like I said." Marcus puts the broom down, and when he looks back at me, his eyes are crinkling with concern. "How's your sister Amara doing, by the way? She okay after everything?"

"She's doing alright for now," I nod, grateful for his asking. "She's actually just finished her application essay for Columbia today."

Marcus's eyebrows shoot up, clearly impressed. "Columbia? That's something. Girl's got ambition. I guess she wants to follow her big sister's footsteps."

"Yeah, I guess she does," I say, feeling a sudden warmth at the thought.

And for the second time today, I can't help but think how nice it might be to go back to Columbia myself. To finish what I started. To reclaim that part of my life that was stolen from me.

"So, what are the three of you doing for Thanksgiving next week? Not for nothing else, I know this whole block will be pretty damn thankful for everything that Mr. Baryshev has done for them. And we all want to repay that favor."

I blink, surprised by the question. Thanksgiving hasn't even crossed my mind with everything that's happened. But I guess it is coming up on us, isn't it?

"And not just because he's helping us out," Marcus continues, "but because he's allowed all of us to breathe a little easier by letting all of us know that you're alright." He nods toward Anatoly. "In fact, that's why I called him down here. Wanted to extend that invitation in person."

I turn to Anatoly incredulously. "He called you here?"

"As it turns out," Anatoly replies. "I'm not the only one who wouldn't accept no for an answer."

I look back and forth between them, trying to process this revelation. "Wait, you have Anatoly's number?" I ask Marcus.

"Of course he does," Anatoly says, his hand finding the small of my back. "Mr. Jackson has done me a great service." His blue eyes meet mine, serious and sincere. "He may not be bratva, but he's important to you. And for that reason, he's important to me. I take care of my own."

The words settle over me like a warm blanket. It's strange how Anatoly can make something that should sound possessive feel like protection. Like belonging. My throat tightens unexpectedly.

Marcus is looking between us with knowing eyes. It strikes me that in his own way, he's been taking care of me too—worrying about me, making sure I was safe, and even reaching out to the most dangerous man in New York just to check up on me.

"So how about it?" Marcus asks again, leaning against the counter. "Thanksgiving. Manny would be more than happy to host at his place, and Mrs. Diaz already volunteered to help with the turkey. Come hungry and stay as late as you'd like." His eyes crinkle at the corners. "Like one big family."

I glance at Anatoly, and try to gauge his reaction. A neighborhood Thanksgiving dinner is about as far from his usual world as possible. In fact, it's almost impossible for me to imagine him sitting at the head of the table in the mansion and asking Roma or Vassily to pass the cranberry sauce.

"And I figure that's also a good time for you to tell everyone else about the family you're starting." Marcus adds. "Mrs. Diaz will be ecstatic when she hears."

"Wait, you haven't told everyone already?" I ask, surprised.

Marcus shakes his head. "Important news like this ought to come from you and your husband yourselves. Not from me."

There's something about the way he says "your husband" that makes me smile. It still feels strange sometimes, that word. Husband. But hearing it from Marcus makes it feel realer and more normal than it ever did before.

I look up at Anatoly. "What do you think?"

His expression is unreadable to most, but I can see the slight softening around his eyes. He gives a small nod and a ghost of a smile.

"We'd be honored to come," I tell Marcus, feeling a lightness I haven't felt in weeks. "Me, Amara, and Anatoly."

"Perfect!" Marcus claps his hands together once. "I can't wait. It'll be good times, good food, and good people."

I step forward and hug Marcus again. "It's good to see you again, Marcus."

When I pull back, Marcus's expression has turned more serious. "Likewise Indie." He squeezes my shoulders gently, the same way that a father might. "Don't be a stranger, alright? This neighborhood will always have a spot for you in our hearts."

I nod, feeling a lump form in my throat. The same is true for me as well. No matter where life with Anatoly takes me, a piece of my heart will always belong to these streets, and to these people who knew me before I ever became a pakhan's wife.