Page 57 of His Darkest Obsession (Baryshev Bratva #1)

ANATOLY

Every mile I get closer to Mother's Hamptons cottage sharpens my anger just a little bit more until it’s been honed to a razor’s edge.

The small beachfront property sits isolated at the end of a private road. It had been a gift from my father to her a long time ago.

It was from a time when the two of them still believed that they loved each other, back when he was no more than another man with a dream and she was his promised bride.

Before the cracks in their marriage turned into gaping chasms that couldn't be closed. Before the cheating. The screaming matches at night.

And before she finally had enough of it all and arranged for that bullet in his head three years ago.

The irony of it all isn't lost on me as I drive.

I barely slept last night. After Indigo and I finished our lovemaking in the shower, she asked for space. I gave it to her, respecting her wishes even as everything in me wanted to stay by her side.

When I woke this morning, one of the maids told me that she'd left with Svetlana to drop off Amara at school.

And I can still feel the hollow ache in my chest.

But above all, the single memory that haunts me was when she pulled me in for a kiss right as I was about to tell her that I love her. Those three words died in my throat under the passion of her kiss.

It felt deliberate. Like she knew what I was about to confess and stopped me from saying it.

But why?

I pull up to the cottage and kill the engine. My mother is already outside, standing on the porch in the greatcoat that had been the only possession she brought with her after she married Father.

Her hair flutters in the chilly coastal breeze, and her face remains that familiar mask of indifference that I've known my entire life.

As I approach, my eyes linger on the hydrangeas Father planted almost twenty years ago. She still never bothered to remove them.

Even after killing him, she kept his flowers.

"Tolya," she says coolly, not moving from her position. "I was wondering when you'd show up."

"Is it true?" I ask. "Did you put Vassily into digging up the NDA about Indigo?"

"Come inside, Tolya." Mother's eyes narrow slightly before she turns towards the door. "Before you catch a cold out here."

"We can have this conversation right here."

"You are still my son," she says. "Even if you're ready to refuse me as your mother."

She turns around without waiting for my response and begins walking back inside.

"Stay here, Valentina Ivanovna," I switch to her patronymic. "Eto moi prikaz."

She stops with her back still to me, and her shoulders stiffens at the tone in my voice.

"Are you here to speak to me as my son," she asks quietly. "Or as my pakhan?"

The sea crashes in the distance, and scent of salt carries from the shore.

"Both," I answer firmly. "Now answer my question."

She turns around slowly and meets my gaze. I see the defiance in her eyes, but also a familiar haunting emptiness. How many times did Father use those same three words on her? And how many times did she obey while she nursed that bitterness in her heart?

We glare at each other while the sea crashes in the distance. Finally, she break the silence.

"Yes," she says. "I sent Vasya to find the NDA."

"Why?"

Mother lifts her chin, defiant even now. "Because someone needed to remember that the Bratva must come first."

"Not for this."

"Not for this?" She takes a step down from the porch towards me. "You think that I would allow the Volkovs to find this information before we did? Do you have any idea how much more pain they would've inflicted on us if they knew? On her?"

Anger rushes through me at what she's saying.

"Don't pretend like you give a shit about Indigo," I snap. "You've hated her from the moment you laid eyes on her."

Mother's lips curl into a thin smile.

"That's true," she acknowledges with a slight tilt of her head. "I don't like her. I never have."

"Then why—"

"Because she is your wife, Tolya," she continues, her voice hardening on the word. "She represents the Bratva now. She carries our name, as you are so fond of telling us." Mother crosses her arms. "So I must act to protect her, whether I want to or not."

I take a step toward her, close enough that I can see the fine lines around her eyes. "You call exposing her past 'protection'?"

"I sent Vassily to find and hold onto the NDA," Mother counters, not backing down.

"To ensure no one else could get their hands on it.

And of course he would bring this information directly to you.

" Her eyes harden. "Have you ever considered that perhaps your brother was looking for your approval?

That he was just trying to do his part for the bratva? "

"Liar." I shake my head, a bitter laugh escaping me. "If this was about protecting the bratva, you would've accepted Indigo from the beginning instead of trying to drive her away so I could marry Lola."

Mother's face hardens.

"Do you know what I saw the first time I laid eyes on that whore coming down the staircase?

"I told you not to call her that," I whisper, my voice dangerously quiet.

But Mother doesn't stop.

"I saw myself again, and I remembered the way that your father dishonored me for years," she whispers. "And now I'm watching you walk in his footsteps."

"I am not Father."

"No, you're worse." She spits. "At least your father understood the meaning of duty.

Had you married Lola like you were supposed to, none of this would have happened!

And now, you've snatched defeat from the jaws of victory.

" Her voice rises with each word. "Instead of having the mayor in your pocket, you've turned the entire city against you!

To say nothing of incurring the wrath of the Volkovs! "

I stare at her, letting her words wash over me. When she finally stops to catch her breath, I speak calmly.

"I made my choice, Mother. I chose Indigo because I refuse to repeat the same loveless marriage that you and Father had."

The words land like a physical blow. Mother's face pales, and for a moment, I see something vulnerable flash in her eyes before it's buried beneath fresh anger.

"Loveless?" Mother barks. "Don't tell me that my marriage was loveless. I loved that man on the day I married him. I would've kept loving him to my grave, but he threw me away. Lola would've loved you, Tolya."

"But I wouldn't love her."

Mother's face twists into something ugly. "Because you love your whore?"

"I told you." My voice drops to a whisper. "Do not call her that again."

Mother dismisses my threat with a wave of her hand, her eyes boring into mine. "Answer my question, Tolya."

I pause, letting the question settle between us. Do I love Indigo?

I think about her stare at the barbershop, her trembling hands holding the razor to my throat, the deliberate carefulness as she slid the ring onto my finger, her face twisting in pleasure every time she comes together, the look of grim determination in that basement when I killed her parents' murderers, and the vulnerability in her eyes when she asked me to make love to her like she's my wife.

But beyond that, I can see her smile. See the corners of her soft hazel eyes crinkling when she sees me. And the moment that thought crosses my mind, my heart skips a beat.

I have my answer.

"Yes," I say finally, the word feeling both strange and right on my tongue. "I love her."

Mother shakes her head, disappointment radiating from her. "Love has no place in the Bratva. Love is the death of duty, and a pakhan must be dutiful above all else. You know this, Tolya. Your father knew this. It's the way of our world."

"Maybe some ways of our world should be changed"

"Change?" Mother laughs bitterly. "You think you're the first pakhan who thought he can change things because of a woman? Do you remember what I told you that day when you first brought her home?"

I clench my jaw. "You said she would betray me one day."

Mother nods. "That day is coming sooner than you think."

"You don't know anything about her," I snap.

"And you're clueless about just how deep some people's schemes run," Mother counters, her voice almost pitying now.

"And what schemes, Mother, are you running?" I demand, stepping closer to her.

Mother draws herself up, looking indignant. "I run no schemes, Tolya. Everything I do, I do for the bratva. I've always been loyal to this family." Her finger jabs in the direction of the city. "But you cannot say the same for her."

"Enough," I warn.

"No, not enough." Mother's voice rises. "You still have time to set aside the whore and embrace the wife you were always meant to have. Before it's too late."

Something snaps inside me. "I TOLD YOU TO STOP CALLING HER THAT!" I roar, my voice echoing across the manicured lawn.

Mother doesn't back down. Instead, she steps closer, her face flushed with anger. "You have no idea what's coming, Tolya! Taras Volkov is making inroads with other crime families as we speak. Families with connections throughout the city. They will help him avenge his daughter's honor."

I scoff, but Mother continues.

"When Taras has the numbers, he will go to war. Not these little skirmishes we've seen, but a real war. A war the Baryshevs cannot hope to win alone." Her voice drips with disdain. "And for what? So you can continue fucking your whore while everything falls to ruin?"

Her eyes narrow. "A whore who's already proved she wasn't careful enough to not get knocked up by another man."

White-hot rage floods my system. I storm up the porch steps in three long strides and pin Mother against her front door, my forearm pressing across her collar bones.

"THAT MONSTER RAPED HER," I roar, my face inches from hers.

Mother doesn't flinch, even with my arm against her throat. "It wasn't up to you to avenge her," she says coldly.

I lean closer, my arm still pressed against her throat. "I will not abandon her," I snarl, my voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "Not for you, not for the Volkovs, not for anyone. Indigo is my wife, and I trust her with my heart. All of it."

Mother's eyes fill with disgust.

"If the Volkovs want to start a war on account of her," I continue, "then I will kill every last one of them. I'll burn their houses to the ground and salt the earth where they stand."

"Then you're lost," Mother spits, not even struggling against my hold. "I would rather die than watch everything this family built crumble to nothing."

The anger pulsing through me is like nothing I've ever felt before. Not when I learned of my father's death. Not when I killed for the first time. Not even yesterday when I beat Bennet's face into a bloody ruin.

My free hand moves to my holster and pull out my gun.

"If you want to die so badly," I say. "I can grant you that wish."

Mother doesn't flinch. Her eyes are calm, almost relieved. "Would you be so cruel as to kill your own mother? For her?"

I stare at her for a long moment. "No. I won't kill you."

I release my hold on her throat, step back, and extend the gun toward her, handle first.

"You can do that yourself."

Mother stares at the gun, and her hand refuses to move.

"Do you remember what I said to you that day?" I ask.

"I do." She nods. "That if I dared to touch you like that again, or touch your wife like that again, or call her a whore one more time, that you'll kill me."

"Exactly." I nod. "Now take the gun. Eto moi prikaz."

Mother's eyes finally close and a single tear slides down her cheek. "I remember when you were still a little boy, Tolya. You used to hide from your father behind my skirt anytime whenever he was in a mood to hurt something."

"I know. But that boy is gone now."

"He is," she whispers. "And I see now what you have chosen. Maybe it's for the best. Maybe it's good that this is where I leave you."

"Don't make this any harder than it has to be, Valentina Ivanovna."

"Of course not, my pakhan." She takes the gun from my hand, flips the safety off, and presses the barrel against her head. "But there's something that you should know."

"What's that?"

"Your whore's pregnant," she says. "Her life is in danger. And I’m the only one who might be able to help you find her."