Page 46

YULIAN

The guy at the door looks like someone jammed a stick up his ass and then left it there, indefinitely, to fester.

He sounds like it, too. His words may be polite on the surface, but his tone isn’t. Snotty, holier-than-thou, an idealist who thinks he’s never made a mistake in his life and, therefore, believes people who do are inferior.

He isn’t talking to Mia—he’s talking at Mia. Down at her, specifically.

Next to him, an older woman with thick glasses and a cane smiles up at me.

I don’t smile back.

“Right! Introductions,” Mia interjects quickly, sliding between me and the rat-faced prick at the door.

Smart. She must have caught my death glare and decided she didn’t have enough medical supplies in her home to reattach a head to a body, nor enough bleach to hide the fact.

“These are Mr. Lee and Mrs. Deloera,” she explains. “Eli’s caseworkers.”

“Charmed.”

I don’t offer my hand to shake. The smiling old lady seems to know better than to expect it, but Rat Face turns up his nose. “And this would be…?” he demands.

“Him? Well, he’s, err?—”

I reach for my business card, but Mia stops me, white in the face.

“Boris!” she blurts. “He’s, um, Boris.”

Lee eyes me with impatience. “Boris what?”

“Uhh—” she falters. “J-Johnson.”

What the hell?

She squeezes my hand, a silent plea to play along. I decide she must have a good reason to conceal my identity from her caseworkers.

Although, I won’t lie: She could have done a less shit job of it.

Predictably, Lee’s eyebrows scrape the ceiling. “This is Boris Johnson? ”

“Well, obviously, not the Boris Johnson,” Mia laughs awkwardly. Her palm has started to sweat. “Just, you know… A Boris Johnson.”

Lee’s gaze fixes on me, filled with suspicion to the brim. For once, I can’t fucking blame him. “I see.”

“I don’t believe you were due for a visit,” I say, swiftly changing the subject. “Not until the end of the month.”

Mia’s eyes widen, just a fraction. If she’s shocked that I memorized her CPS appointments on top of her work schedule, she clearly has no idea what I’m capable of. When someone’s mine, they are mine.

“I, um… yes,” Mia stammers. “Guess this must be a drive-by.” She’s trying to make a joke, but only Mrs. Deloera offers a polite chuckle.

“I’d like to see the child now,” Lee cuts in, practically sniffing the air.

Jesus Christ. I’ve never seen a more punchable face in my life, and I’ve been in a room with Bradley Baldwin.

My fist clenches at my side, but Mia’s hand quickly skims over my knuckles. A silent “please, don’t make this worse.”

Reluctantly, I let out a breath and unclench. If there’s one thing I’ve learned in my years as a Bratva pakhan, it’s to recognize when I’m stepping into somebody else’s fight. It’s one of the rules of our creed: never rob a brother of their battles.

And Mia might not be a brother, but here, on her personal battlefield, she’s as much a soldier as any of my men.

Lee’s foot starts tapping the floor. “Now would be good,” he presses. “If you don’t mind.”

“Not at all.” Mia’s smile is tight, twitchy. Her you’re lucky I swore an oath smile, with a side of wistful thoughts about morgue drawers in need of a new occupant.

She leads the two caseworkers into Eli’s room. “Eli! You’ve got visitors.”

The boy’s head pops up from a pile of clothes and plushies. “But we’re gonna be late,” he protests.

“Late for what?” Lee prods. His eyes dart immediately from the clothes to the open suitcase on the floor. “Going somewhere?”

Mia’s face pales. “Not rea?—”

“We’re going on a mission!” Eli squeals. “To be spies!”

Lee’s brow knits. “And where, exactly, will this mission be taking place?”

“Russia!”

His gaze zeroes in on me. “Is that so?”

“Of course not,” Mia laughs awkwardly. “That would be?—”

“None of your business,” I cut in. Letting Mia fight her own battles and letting her take psychic damage from this mudak ’s attitude are two very different things. She’s had two panic attacks in front of me—I won’t let this become the third. “Would it, Mr. Lee? ”

His jaw flexes. “Actually, it is, Mr. Johnson. It just so happens that Eli Winters is in our custody as well as Ms. Winters’s. And if you’re taking him to Russia?—”

“Montana,” I correct.

“Montana?”

“I own a cabin there.”

Technically, it’s a ten-thousand square foot chalet made of cedar and oak, at the center of a thousand acres of woods, with a private landing site and hunting grounds.

But as far as Mr. Lee is concerned, “cabin” works just as well.

“Ms. Winters and her son will be back here by Sunday. He will not miss school.”

“That’s good to know,” Lee says with a touch of sarcasm, “but I’m afraid it doesn’t matter. Montana isn’t in the state of New York.”

“I wasn’t aware we were debating middle-school geography.”

“We’re not. But unfortunately, Ms. Winters’s probation is very clear on the relevance of middle-school geography to her case.

” He whips out a file from his suitcase and hands it to me.

“Page 4, paragraph C: The Respondent Mother shall not remove the subject child from the State of New York without prior written authorization from the Department of Child Protective Services and the express permission of the Family Court. ”

Next to me, Mia’s face drains of all color.

“I’m assuming from Ms. Winters’s face that she was not yet aware you were taking her there,” Lee says with a pointed look at Mia. “Am I correct, Ms. Winters?”

“Yes,” she says right away. “We hadn’t, um—discussed it. Yet.”

“Good.” He checks a box on his clipboard. “Because, if you had, I would have had to report you.”

“I’m sure Mia just forgot,” Mrs. Deloera chimes in. “Right, dear?”

She gives the quickest nod in history.

“Then that’s settled.” The older woman waves at Eli, then at the rest of us. “Have a wonderful weekend within state lines! I’m sure you’ll find another exciting place to visit.”

“Ms. Winters,” Lee says by way of goodbye. “Mr. Johnson.”

Then they’re both gone.

As soon as the door clicks shut, Mia leans against it. “ Blyat’. ”

I frown. “Did you just swear in Russian?”

“Took a page from your book,” she exhales. “Turns out, it’s useful when you’re around kids.”

“Mommy?” Eli comes trudging over, his eyes lucid. “Does this mean we can’t go to Russia? Or Montana?”

“That’s right, honey.” She crouches, gathering him up in her arms. “I’m so sorry. We’ll go another time, okay?”

“It’s because of Mr. Lee,” he spits. “I hate him!”

“He’s just doing his job. He wants you to be safe, okay? That’s why he’s so strict all the time.”

“But I’m safe with you,” he argues. “I’m safe with Yulian.”

“Then we’ll just have to prove that, won’t we?” She kisses the top of his head. It’s such an affectionate gesture, so uniquely them, I feel the urge to look away. Tear my gaze off this family that doesn’t belong to me. “And how do we do that?”

“By being good,” he recites.

“That’s right. By being good.” She presses one more kiss to his brow, then smiles. “Now, why don’t you go pick tonight’s dinner? You can have whatever you want.”

“Even ice cream?”

“Even ice cream.”

He doesn’t look happy, but at least he’s pacified. He trudges to the takeout menu drawer. He can’t read yet, but he must know what the logos stand for, because he starts sorting the leaflets into “yes/maybe/no” piles.

Regret grips my chest. I’m not used to it at all, let alone in situations like these. Low stakes, where no one’s bleeding out on a dirty warehouse floor, or under a white-clothed table.

I’m not used to apologizing, either.

“I talked too much. I shouldn’t have.”

“You couldn’t have known.” Mia finds my clenched fists and rubs them, softly smoothing over the tension. One by one, she unfurls the fingers of my right hand until she can intertwine them with hers. “Thank you, though. For offering this. I’m sorry we couldn’t make it happen.”

Next time. It’s on my tongue, but it’s also a lie. Because I have no idea if there will be one. If Mia will ever be by my side again.

What kind of piece of shit would do that to her? Put her in danger all over again, just because he’s scared to let go?

You, the ugly voice inside me sneers. You would.

Not anymore.

“We should talk,” I tell her, steeling myself. “About your contract.”

Mia blinks up at me. There’s hope in her eyes, a spark that dances around the blue like a firefly lost at sea. “What, um… what about it?”

Do it. Break her heart.

Break her, and then save her.

“Mommy! Can Yulian stay for dinner?”

Eli’s voice shatters the moment. He trots to me, two takeout menus in hand, like he can’t quite decide.

“I…” I swallow around the lump in my throat. “I have to get to work.”

“Oh.” His face falls, eyes downcast. “Can we come, then? And eat later?”

“Eli,” Mia starts, “Yulian’s very busy. He can’t just?—”

“Alright.”

Her eyes bulge. “What?”

All my life, I’ve fought against weakness. Before I was pakhan, and then after, building a fortress around me every day. One that couldn’t be pierced by bullets, or knives, or cracked by the same feelings that almost broke me once.

Grief.

Loss.

Love.

Tonight, I lose that battle.

Willingly.

“I’ve got to check on Tikhon. Make sure he hasn’t blown up the lab.” I crouch low, as close as I can to Eli’s height. “Would you like to see how spy tech is made?”

His eyes brighten on the spot. Blue pools of light, just like his mother’s. “Really?!”

“If your mother says it’s okay.”

We both turn to her. “Can we, Mommy?” Eli pleads.

Guilt has never gripped me tighter. I was supposed to protect them. To end the contract. It would crush their hearts, but in doing so, it would save their lives.

But I’m not ready to let go yet.

One more night.

Just one more night, and I’ll do it.

One more night with the family I’ll never have.

Mia’s face melts into a smile. Soft, warm, like milk and honey. “Okay,” she whispers.

One more night, and then it’s over.