Page 3 of Toxic Salvation (Krayev Bratva #2)

KOVAN

“Where the hell have you been?”

Pavel jerks like I’ve slapped him, nearly dropping his travel mug. The sight of it makes my jaw clench—it’s the same one Vesper used to carry around on those chaotic mornings when she’d skip breakfast and survive on caffeine alone.

Which was every fucking morning.

“Jesus, what crawled up your ass and died?” Pav mutters, setting the mug down with deliberate care.

“Don’t mind him,” Osip grumbles from across the room. “He’s been a real treat ever since…” He trails off, but we all know what he’s not saying.

Ever since I destroyed the best thing that ever happened to me.

I whip around to face Osip. “You’re supposed to be getting me those Keres files.”

“Already did.” He gestures to the stack of papers on my desk. “Set them right in front of you twenty minutes ago.”

“Except that none of these make the least bit of fucking sense.” I toss them on the ground with a limp thud. “Look at this shit. It’s nothing but symbols and gibberish.”

Pavel picks up one of the scattered documents, his eyes scanning the pages rapidly. After a moment, he lets out a low whistle. “This is all in code. Pretty sophisticated stuff, too.”

“Fantastic.” I shove back from my desk so hard my chair slams into the wall. “Just fucking perfect. I thought I had the best team money could buy, but apparently, I’m stuck with a bunch of amateurs.”

“Hey!” Pavel protests.

“That’s uncalled for,” Osip adds.

I ignore them both, turning to stare at the blank wall behind my desk. Right now, the blank space is my friend. The emptiness is my ally. Because if I so much as look at either Pavel or Osip, I’m gonna fucking take them out.

It’s also appropriate because it matches the hollowness in my chest that’s been growing for the past month.

“Did you check on her?” Osip’s voice drops to what he probably thinks is a whisper but might as well be a bullhorn.

My entire body goes rigid. Every muscle locks up like I’ve been hit with a taser.

It’s been thirty-two days since I last saw Vesper. I cut her out of my life ruthlessly, and it’s killing me by inches.

Sleep used to be my escape. The one time my brain would shut the fuck up about her. But two weeks ago, the dreams started. Vivid, torturous things that leave me waking up hard and aching and more miserable than when I went to bed.

Sometimes, I dream about saving her from dangers that don’t exist.

Sometimes, I dream about having her underneath me, crying out my name.

Sometimes, I dream about a future we’ll never have.

All of them end the same way—with me remembering that I chose to let her go.

“Yeah, she’s…” Pavel’s voice drops even lower, and I can’t make out his words.

The bastard is doing it on purpose. Add it to the list of reasons he deserves a broken nose.

I spin around and the conversation stops abruptly. Pavel suddenly becomes fascinated with his coffee mug while Osip stares out the window like he’s never seen the sky before.

“You dropped Luka off this morning?” I ask, eager to talk about anything that isn’t her.

Pavel’s shoulders tense. “Yeah, but…”

“What?”

“He didn’t want to go. Put up a hell of a fight, actually.”

My hands curl into fists. “He’s been fighting everything lately.”

The sweet, quiet kid who used to spend weekends at science museums has been replaced by a gaunt, fiery stranger I barely recognize. Luka argues about bedtime. He refuses to eat. He asks questions I can’t answer and makes demands I won’t meet.

The worst part? I know exactly why he’s acting this way.

“How late were you?” I ask.

Pavel winces. “About an hour.”

“An hour?” I explode. “Pavel, what the fuck?—”

“Hey, I tried!” He throws his hands up defensively. “The kid locked himself in his bathroom and wouldn’t come out. When I finally got him in the car, he spent the entire drive asking when he could see?—”

“Don’t.” I crack my neck from side to side. “Don’t say her name.”

“This is insane, Kovan. It’s been a month. He just wants to?—”

“I don’t give a shit what he wants.” I’m lying through my teeth and we all know it. “He needs to learn that some people leave and they don’t come back. Better he learns it now.”

Pavel drops into the armchair. “You’re killing him.”

“I’m protecting him.”

“From what? A woman who loved him?”

He’s right, though, even if I hate him for it. Vesper did love Luka. She loved him enough to fight for him, to comfort him, to promise him things would be okay.

More than I’ve ever been able to give him.

“She’s not his mother,” I growl.

“She was the closest thing he’s ever had to one.” Pavel is solemn now, which somehow makes it all that much worse. “And you took that away from him.”

Osip clears his throat. “You want my advice?”

“No.”

He continues anyway. “Get a cryptanalysis team on these files. Someone with pro software and actual expertise.” He taps the coded documents. “And maybe consider that the kid might know what he’s talking about.”

After Osip leaves, Pavel and I stare at each other across the room.

“There’s a war coming,” I finally say in answer to the question he never even asked. “Ihor isn’t going to let this go. I can’t afford distractions.”

“Luka isn’t a distraction. He’s our blood, Ko.” Pavel plants his elbows on his knees. “And so is she, whether you want to admit it or not.”

“She made her choice when she tried to expose us.”

“She made her choice when she tried to save kids from having their organs harvested,” he retorts. He stands up, venturing closer. “A.k.a., the same thing you’ve been trying to do for months.”

“That’s different.”

“No, Kovan, it’s not.” He’s close enough now that I can see the anger burning in his eyes. “You’re scared. You found something real with her and it terrified you, so you sabotaged it before she could leave first.”

I grab the front of his shirt and haul him closer. “Watch your fucking mouth.”

“Or what? You’ll beat the shit out of me for telling the truth?” Pavel doesn’t flinch. “Go ahead, brother. Won’t change the fact that you’re miserable. Won’t change the fact that Luka cries himself to sleep every night asking for her.”

My grip tightens on his shirt. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I know you haven’t slept more than three hours at a time since she left. I know you’ve been drinking more and eating less. I know you look like death warmed over.” Some of his anger fades away. “You’re dying in the darkness, man. You’re killing yourself.”

“I don’t want to know about her anymore.”

“Too bad. Because someone needs to give a shit about her safety, and since you’ve decided to play the martyr, it falls to me.”

Before I can respond, my phone starts buzzing on the desk. The screen lights up with an incoming call.

When I see the number, I frown.

Then I start to run.