Page 175 of The Lazarov Bratva

He runs his fingers through my hair and settles his hand at the base of my neck. As he lightly massages my shoulders, he grumbles softly and declines.

“No need,” he replies. “I’m not needed.”

The conversation repeats a few times over the passing days, and I can’t deny how exciting it is to see him choose me over whoever is on the other end of the phone. Work is put on pause, and he stays with me even through the mundane things like cooking.

As sweet as it is, though, it doesn’t always keep the dark thoughts at bay.

It’s confusing, and the sharpness of it all mixes with the turmoil I still feel in regard to the death of that poor doctor.

I understand now why he did what he did. Why the doctor had to die. It’s complicated. Our entire lives are complicated. If my thoughts linger on the memories for too long, a sharp horror builds in my chest and the wet thud of his body hitting the floor plays on repeat in my ears.

The risk was too great, though, and Kristof acted. Given Alyona’s betrayal, I can’t blame him.

It’ll just take me time to make my peace with it. After all, if Alyona had been discovered sooner, then so many people would still be alive.

Things here aren’t as black and white as my habits make them out to be, and while it’s strange to shift my focus to the grayness of the world, it will help in the long run. Still, one clear-cut decision came late one night when I lay in bed reading up on the importance of early learning for children.

I don’t want my children to grow up without a father. As soon as my own father is dead, I will make Kristof swear never to kill someone ever again unless he has no other choice.

Especially not people just doing their job.

The day of the funeral rolls around with grey clouds rolling overhead, mirroring the somber air that haunts the mansion. Kristof picked out the tree under which he wanted to bury the urns. I chose the flowers, and when August turned up with two beautiful black marble urns, he also brought a combined headstone for the plot.

In a terribly bittersweet way, things were perfect.

Kristof walks ahead of me, an urn under each arm and his strides as wide as they are purposeful. We weave a path through the gardens toward the large willow that stands alone near the bottom of the garden. Andrev explained that a storm had taken out the other trees that used to be there years ago, and now one stands all on its own.

Like Kristof.

“I trust you are well?” August’s deep voice catches me off guard, and I flinch, not having noticed him step up beside me.

“Hm? Oh, yes. I’m… fine. I think. As well as I can be.”

“That is good.” He flashes me a strong smile that makes his eyes twinkle, and not for the first time, I’m reminded of a buff Santa Claus.

“This is nice, what you did.” I tilt my head toward Kristof. “With the headstone and everything. And on such short notice. You’re a man of many talents.”

“These things are important,” August says with a single nod. “Respecting the dead is how we prevent a repeat of their mistakes. Although in this case, God rest their souls, killing Aleksander will be the only way to prevent a mistake.” His bushy brows knit together, then rise sharply. “My apologies.”

“No, please.” Clutching at the hem of my black blouse, I shake my head. “Believe me, I don’t think there is any affection left for that man in my heart. Not after… everything.” I trail off as Kristof comes to a stop on the grass a foot away from the tree, his head down.

“Indeed,” August murmurs. “And your baby, you are doing well there?”

One hand moves to my abdomen on reflex. “Yes. I mean, mostly, I have no idea what I’m doing, but yes.”

August chuckles and his warm hand settles on my shoulder. “The secret is, no one knows. We make it up as we go along. I am glad he has you.”

August’s words bring an unexpected tear to my eye, and I glance away. There’s something so warm and fatherly about him that I almost can’t stomach his being this nice to me. It’s as alien as it is welcome.

“Well, I am glad he has you, too,” I reply, flashing August a smile. “He needs all the support he can get.”

“He is a good man.” August nods. “Well, he is a terrible man, but he is a good man.”

I match his chuckle with a soft one of my own, and then we fall silent as Kristof turns to face us.

Andrev stands on my left, his hands clasped in front of him and a hint of red glistening in his eyes. Several guards ring the garden, and as I cast an eye around, it hits me suddenly.

Every single person here decided to follow Kristof. They decided his vision for the Family was the one they wanted to believe in and respect. They chose him and continue to do so despite everything. There are times when I fear Kristof is alone, but as we stand here in a soft silence, I realize that he’s not as deserted as I feared.

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