Page 26 of Toxic Salvation (Krayev Bratva #2)

VESPER

Waylen grabs two cartons of milk from the refrigerated case in the grocery store. “You want to tell me what you and Kovan are fighting about this time?”

I maneuver our cart closer so he can drop them in without having to reach. “Not really.”

“You’re not talking to Kovan. You’re not talking to Mom. You’re barely talking to me.” He sets the milk into the cart. “How bad is it?”

I push the cart onward, wheels squeaking against the floor. “It’s really inconvenient living with you, you know that?”

He actually laughs at that. Then his hand shoots out to stop the cart, forcing me to look at him. “I’m your big brother, V. If you can’t talk to me, what’s the point of having one?”

“Maybe I’m trying to protect you.” I keep my eyes on the shopping list crumpled in my palm rather than meet his gaze. “It’s true what they say: Sometimes, ignorance really is bliss.”

His jaw does that thing where it juts out when he’s getting stubborn. Mom always said he got that from Dad. “It’s not your job to protect me, Vesper. Besides, if you don’t talk to me, I’ll go straight to Kovan. And unlike you, he’s not worried about protecting my delicate sensibilities.”

My head snaps up. “You’d really go to Kovan?”

“Yes, I would. And if necessary, I’ll beat his ass until he tells me what’s going on.”

“No!” I grab his arm, my fingers probably leaving marks through his jacket sleeve. “This isn’t his fault.”

Waylen rolls his eyes in disbelief. “Right. Sure. You expect me to believe that El Doucho?—”

“I’m serious. He was just the messenger.”

He drops his arms to his sides and turns his full attention on me. The milk case hums behind us, and somewhere in the distance, a baby is crying. Normal grocery store sounds for a very abnormal conversation.

“Tell me what’s going on, Vesper.”

“Here?” I glance around at the other shoppers pretending not to eavesdrop. “In the frozen foods aisle?”

“We could move over to the meat section, but I’m not a fan of the smell.”

“We’re in a grocery store, Waylen. This is not an appropriate place to have this conversation.”

“I don’t see why not. We need groceries and we need to talk.” He shrugs like it’s the most reasonable thing in the world. “No sense putting off either one.”

“Very practical.”

“I’m nothing if not sensible.” His mouth quirks up at one corner. “And you’re stalling.”

He’s right. I am. But how do you tell someone that everything they believed about the man who raised them was a lie? How do you explain that the father who taught you to ride a bike and helped with homework was also a murderer?

I take a breath that feels too thin. “You remember the Keres?”

The half-smile drops clean off his face. “I saw that name in Dad’s office once. On one of his files.”

“It’s an organ trafficking ring.” The words come out in a rush, like ripping off a bandage. “Dad was their lead surgeon for several years. He basically stole organs from his patients and sold them to the highest bidder.”

Waylen goes completely still. His lips turn white, and for a second, I think he might actually pass out right here between the frozen peas and the ice cream.

“Well, fuck me,” he says finally.

“I’m sorry. There might have been a better way to tell you?—”

“That our father was stealing organs from his patients for profit?” Waylen runs both hands through his hair, messing it up completely. “I’m not sure there’s a good way to deliver that particular piece of news. Fuck.”

“I know it’s a lot to process?—”

“Would it make sense if I said this was shocking but not surprising?”

My mouth falls open. “Seriously?”

“I was older than you, V. I noticed things you didn’t. Plus, I didn’t worship the guy the way you did.” He’s not being cruel, just honest. “I saw his flaws as well as his best qualities. He was never the saint you thought he was. He never belonged on that pedestal you put him on.”

“I don’t understand. What did you notice?”

“Little things. Late-night phone calls that he never seemed happy about. A locked drawer in his home office that he was insanely protective of.” Waylen rests against the freezer case, suddenly looking exhausted.

“I was looking for a pen one day—Dad always had extras in his desk. So I went into his office to grab one. He caught me in there and went absolutely ballistic. Accused me of invading his privacy and the privacy of his patients. He apologized later for overreacting, but it always struck me as weird. It felt like he had something to hide.”

“Mom knew, too.”

Waylen looks down at his shoes. “She was never going to stop him, Vesper. She worshipped him just like you did. Maybe even more.”

“I wouldn’t have if I’d known what he was doing.” The defense comes out automatically, but even as I say it, I’m not sure it’s true. “I could never condone what he did.”

“No, but you’re his daughter. Mom was his wife. It’s different when you love someone.”

“Is it, though?”

“You tell me. After everything you’ve been through with Kovan, do you still love him?”

The question finds its mark exactly where he intended it to. I stare at my brother, trying to find an answer that will absolve me of the comparison he’s making. Unfortunately, he’s got me dead to rights.

“Kovan is different,” I hear myself protesting. “Our father actively participated in the ring. Kovan is trying to destroy it.”

“Is that what he told you?”

“I found proof, Waylen. Documents, spreadsheets, termination letters. He’s been working to dismantle the entire operation for months. He’s close to finishing it now, which is why Ihor and Jeremy are getting desperate.”

He raises an eyebrow. “And you trust this proof you found?”

“Yes, I do.”

Waylen sighs, a sound that seems to come from deep in his chest. “Okay, then.”

“But… there’s more.”

“More?” He stares at me. “Jesus, Vesper. What else could there possibly be?”

“It was Kovan’s father who started the ring. Ihor was his right-hand man. And together… they recruited Dad.”

Waylen shakes his head slowly. “And the plot thickens.”

“Wait; I’m not finished. When Dad got sick, Kovan’s father was going to have him killed. Genrikh basically gave Dad an ultimatum: Refuse all treatment, including my liver donation, or watch his entire family die.”

Waylen goes very quiet. Not the kind of quiet that means he’s thinking—the kind that means something inside him just broke.

“No,” he says finally.

“No?”

“I mean—yes and no.” He coughs, like the words are getting stuck. “It’s complicated.”

“Yeah,” I mutter, “because that clears things up.”

An elderly woman approaches with her cart, and we both step aside. But there’s no way this conversation stops now. We’re too far in.

“Do you remember the day Dad died?”

That familiar ache passes through my chest. It’s duller today, probably buried under everything else I’m feeling.

“Of course I do.”

“He sent you to the cafeteria to get something to eat.”

I nod. “I hadn’t eaten in days. He was worried about me. He told me he wouldn’t die until I got back.”

“I sat by his bed after you left, and we talked. He was really weak, but I still remember it as one of the best conversations we ever had.”

Goosebumps rise along my arms. “You never told me that.”

“Because it was my last memory of him.” Waylen’s face is ashen. “We had a moment where he spoke to me the way he’d always spoken to you. And selfishly, I wanted to keep it to myself. I wanted to know what it felt like to be the golden child for once.”

“Waylen.” I reach out and grab his forearm, squeezing tight. “He loved you.”

“I know that. But I also know he loved you just a little bit more. I don’t blame him for it. I don’t blame you, either. The two of you had medicine in common. You shared a passion that I couldn’t fake even if I tried.”

“Except we didn’t have medicine in common,” I say bitterly. “He was butchering his patients, carving them up for parts and making millions from it. I know I can’t afford to judge him?—”

“Don’t you dare compare what you did for Mom with what Dad did.” Waylen’s interruption is fierce. “Those two things aren’t even in the same universe. Yes, what you did was unethical, but what he did was unforgivable. And he knew it.”

“Did he say something to you about it?”

“Not explicitly, but looking back on that conversation, it makes so much more sense now. He told me to take care of you and Mom. He said I was the man of the family now and that I should do a better job than he had. When I asked what he meant, he said, ‘Be a better man, Waylen.’”

My grip on his arm tightens.

“I thought it was just the drugs talking. Or death bed rambling. But then he told me not to mourn him.”

“He said that?”

The elderly woman has been lingering behind us for way too long now, clearly more interested in our conversation than in selecting ice cream. I hook my arm through Waylen’s and pull him down the aisle. She watches us go with obvious disappointment.

“He told me not to mourn for him because he didn’t deserve to be mourned.

He said he wanted all of us to move on and be happy.

His exact words were: ‘Be a better man than I was, Waylen—and tell your sister to be a better doctor than I was.’ When I tried to tell him he was already the best doctor I knew, he cut me off.

He said he had sins to pay for and this was his punishment. ”

My eyes are dry. I would have expected tears, but there’s nothing. Just a hollow feeling where my idealized image of my father used to be.

“I can’t believe you never told me this before.”

“Would it have made you feel better?”

“No.”

“Then you have your answer.”

We turn the corner into the canned goods section, walking aimlessly now. Our shopping list from this morning is completely forgotten.

“Even if Kovan’s father hadn’t been involved, even if he hadn’t signed Dad’s death warrant, I think Dad still would have wanted to die the way he did.

” I brush my hair out of my face. “I don’t think he could have lived with himself taking someone’s liver when he’d stolen so many from his own patients. ”

He pats my hand gently. “If this is the only thing keeping you from being with Kovan, then it’s not really a reason at all.”

I stop walking so abruptly that a woman behind us has to swerve her cart to avoid hitting me. “Did you just say what I think you said?”

“No guy is ever going to be good enough for you, V.” His voice goes gruff, the way it always does when he’s trying not to get emotional. “But I think Kovan can make you happy. If he can get over himself long enough to admit that you make him happy, too.”

“But you don’t like him.”

“I’m worried he’ll break your heart. But I’d worry about that with any guy you were serious about.

” Waylen stops walking and turns to face me fully.

“I think Kovan—asshole though he can be—isn’t actually a bad guy.

If what you’re telling me is true, he’s willing to lose billions of dollars to stop a business that’s going to make him a lot of enemies.

That already makes him a better man than his father. And ours.”

I lean my head against Waylen’s shoulder, suddenly exhausted. “You’re a good big brother.”

“I know. I’m the best.” He kisses the top of my head. “But just so we’re clear—if you tell Kovan about this part of our conversation, I will completely deny it.”

Laughter bubbles up despite everything. “I have one last question. If you secretly think we’re a good match, why do you give him such a hard time about me?”

Waylen’s answer comes without hesitation. “Because you’re worth fighting for, V. And if he’s willing to fight for you, then maybe he deserves you after all.”