Page 186 of The Lazarov Bratva

He works so hard to protect me, and while I appreciate that, I don’t enjoy constantly being kept in the dark. Surging up, I roll back on top of him and press both hands to his shoulders to pin him down.

“Tell me,” I demand gently. “You can’t keep me in the dark about everything, not anymore. I know you want to protect me, and I love that, but I’m going to be a mother. A mother to your child, so we need to work as a team. We need to be the best team that ever teamed so we can keep each other safe, understand? You have my back and I have yours. We need to work together now. No more secrets, and no more brushing things away under the guise of protection, okay?”

“Damn,” Kristof breathes out with a chuckle. “What brought this on?”

“Seeing us through Katja’s eyes, I think. She sees us as a team, and I want that to be true. I can be of use. I know I can.” My words are true, but underneath is the understanding that if there’s a chance I end up in a position of power after the death of my father, I can’t be completely clueless.

“I don’t want to scare you,” Kristof replies, his eyes darting back and forth between mine. “It’s not because I don’t think you can handle things.”

“It won’t scare me.” Slowly, I slide off him and settle against a propped up pillow. “Besides, I’ve been thinking.”

Kristof rolls onto his side to look at me. “About?”

If I demand honesty from Kristof, I have to follow the same rule. “This thing with my father and with the Family, it can end in one of two ways. Either… either we die, or my father does. And as much as it pains me to say so, this is my family. You are my family, and little jellybean here, and Andrev and August. My point is, I don’t want my baby to grow up without a father. I don’t want to raise this baby without you by my side.”

Kristof nods along as I speak.

“So, if the worst happens, then we will be okay and my father will die. That’s… that’s the best outcome, given everything that’s happened. I can’t see a way that he will ever give himself up or forgive us.”

“What if he did?” Kristof asks softly. “What if, in the end, he begs for mercy?”

That’s a loaded question. Part of me feels like I should answer with mercy, but a stronger part of me rises to the surface and I press my lips together briefly.

“It can’t happen,” I decide. “I wouldn’t ever trust him, wouldn’t ever want him around my baby.”

“Understood.” Kristof’s warm, lightly callused palm slides over my stomach, caressing softly.

“So, when the worst happens, the weight of the Bratva responsibility will fall on my shoulders, right?”

“Yes.” Kristof fixes me with a steady stare. “If you respect the old laws, and there’s a lot of people here who still do.”

“Well, then I need to be informed and capable of making the tough decisions. You have to trust me with these things and tell me so we can be a team, and also so I don’t end up looking like an idiot if I have to wear that cap.”

Kristof’s lower lip twists as he chews on the inside of his cheek, clearly debating the truth in my words and whether or not he’ll decide to tell me. The urge to say more rises, but I hold myself back. There’s nothing else I can add.

I need Kristof to trust me.

Finally, he nods. “Alright.”

I shift upward slightly and mentally calm myself down to prepare for whatever he’s about to share.

“August got wind of a drug deal that your father is involved with. He got his hands on a huge stash that was misplaced by a lower-ranked Family and plans to sell it so he can get a huge injection of cash. Seems he needs it. August is finalizing the details, and once he has it, we will kill your father there.”

The words are cold and there’s a terrible finality to them. I know Kristof. When he sets his mind to something, then he will definitely carry it through, but the daughter in me still throbs in pain at the thought.

“The Irish are still on our side, but they are severely weakened after your father used a ceasefire meeting to cull their numbers. That kind of betrayal is bad enough when you preach loyalty to the old laws, but it works in our favor. We have the Irish and we have August, but we still have to be careful. Aleksander’s death here won’t remove those loyal to him in the States.” Kristof’s brow pinches together as he speaks.

“So, we will have to go back to the States?”

“I’m not sure,” he replies. “The Irish and some of August’s men are over there and will keep an eye on things when the Irish are back on their feet, but I don’t know how much of a problem those loyal to your father will be. The fact that he spat on the tradition of a ceasefire talk works in our favor, though, because that is the backbone of the Big Three.”

“Us, the Irish, and the Italians?”

“Exactly. The Italians have been quiet, but they haven’t been a sizeable threat in years. With the Irish in our pocket, as heir, you will be initially accepted without pressure so long as you make it clear that the old traditions are still respected in your heart.”

“Makes sense,” I murmur, repeating Kristof’s words in my mind. The old traditions and laws are the only thing that stand between an all out Mafia war between all three Families. By their rights, the Irish could demand blood as revenge, but given how Kristof seems to have tamed them, they will certainly support a power change.

“Aleksander has always been clear that you are his heir, regardless of where you would end up, and tradition dictates that you step up.” Kristof scoffs softly. “Even the unruly Families on the outskirts will be forced into place, at least at first. From there, though, that is when you will need to prove yourself as capable. Which I know you are.”

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