Page 174 of The Lazarov Bratva

So I tell her the truth. Everything August told me from the men in the States, the proposed attack on the convoy, and the recovery of Ivan and Nastja’s bodies. The only thing I don’t reveal is my request of August.

If that pans out, she’ll find out soon enough.

“Fuck,” Alena murmurs. “Andrev will be okay?”

“Of course,” I assure her softly, watching water droplets run down her shoulder. “He can take care of himself, and August’s main goal is to thin the herd. Most likely, they will attack from afar on a quiet road where they can take out large volumes of people with minimal effort. August is ex-military, so he excels at things like this. A shot at your father will only be taken if the opportunity shows. Andrev won’t put himself in unnecessary danger.”

“I don’t want us to lose anyone else,” she murmurs, relaxing back against me.

I kiss her bare shoulder, gently licking up the water droplets. “I know. We won’t.”

A weak assurance.

“Is there anything you want to do?”

“Today?”

“No, silly.” Alena laughs softly. “I mean… about your brother and sister. They should have a funeral, don’t you think? I don’t know if that’s common here, and if they’re being cremated, then you would be burying urns, but…” Alena swivels in the water to face me. “Don’t you think it would be a nice way to get closure? And have somewhere you can visit them?”

Her eyes search mine, and I can almost imagine how she’s internally debating about whether she’s said the right thing or not.

Honestly, it’s a really sweet idea and not something I would have considered. Knowing myself, I would have set them on a mantel and let them gather dust for years. Certainly less than they deserve.

“I think… I think that’s a really nice idea.”

Color flushes her cheeks, and she smiles sadly at me, then leans in and kisses my lips. “Good. I’ll help you.”

“Thank you.”

“Absolutely. Now.” Alena turns and grabs the sides of the bath, pulling herself up and out with a low groan. “As amazing as this bath is, and I could spend all day relaxing in there with you, I’m starving.”

“You want me to call for some food?” I ask with a soft chuckle, taking a slow moment to admire the water droplets running down her beautiful body and the way her curves sway when she deftly scoops her hair up into a towel.

“I need more than some food.” Alena chuckles. “I need everything, so come on, get up and make me breakfast, Mister.”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

19

ALENA

The next week is bittersweet.

Kristof doesn’t leave my side, which isn’t unusual, but now he’s by my side like a sad puppy rather than an intimidating shadow. I suspect it’s a combination of the baby and his full acknowledgment of the deaths of his brother and sister.

Ivan and Nastja are gone.

It’s the truth, and yet it doesn’t feel real to me. I catch myself often when they enter my thoughts as I dream of a future with my daughter. That’s when it hurts the most. I didn’t know them as well as I would have liked, but they were a part of my life and important to my future.

Their deaths dull Kristof a little. He’s more attentive, and even as I throw myself into planning a nice funeral ceremony for them, Kristof brushes off work like it isn’t important.

I love that he’s with me, but surely, the desire for revenge runs deep?

Those fantasies drift around my own mind when I consider facing down my father after everything he’s done. Part of me wants to demand an explanation, to ask what I did wrong as a daughter that made him treat me as nothing more than another trinket. The other part of me wants him to suffer.

I never thought I would hate my father. Losing Ivan and Nastja seems to have ignited that within my heart.

“You can take the call,” I tell Kristof as his phone rings, interrupting the silence in the library.

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