Page 14 of Embrace of the Russian Tiger

The sharp buzz of my phone on the desk snapped me out of my thoughts. I glanced at the screen, frowning as I saw an unknown number flashing back at me. Rarely did anyone call me without clearing it through channels first, and an unrecognized number was suspicious at best. My hand reached for the phone automatically, ready to dismiss the call when hesitation flickered through me.

“Da,” I replied, my voice cold, professional.

There was a brief pause, and then the voice came through, warm, casual— familiar.

“Maxim, you old bastard! It’s been a while.”

I couldn’t believe it. It was the voice of my childhood friend, Nikolai. Someone I hadn't spoken to in years, but had once known better than anyone else.

“Nikolai?” I said, surprised by the sudden connection.

He chuckled on the other end of the line, bringing back memories from our younger days. Nikolai had been like an older brother to me and my sister Katya when we first arrived in New York as immigrants. He had looked out for us and taught us how to survive in the harsh city streets. We were inseparable, until Katya's death had changed everything.

“It’s been too long,” Nikolai continued with warmth. “I wasn’t sure you’d even remember me.”

“Of course I remember,” I replied, leaning back in my chair as memories flooded my mind. “How could I forget?”

We had arrived in New York with nothing but dreams and desperation. Nikolai had already established himself in the city's underbelly before we met, and he took us under his wing. He showed us how to read people and situations, how to be street-smart. For a while, I admired him and looked up to him for his easy charm and warmth that drew people in.

But life had changed both of us.

“So, are you back in New York?” I asked curiously, trying to keep my guard up. People like Nikolai didn't just call out of the blue without a motive.

“No,” Nikolai said. “I’ve been on the West Coast for years now. L.A. has its own kind of pull, you know? But I’ve been thinking about old times, lately. Figured I’d give you a call.”

I felt a mix of emotions at the sound of his voice. He was tied to a part of my life that I had buried long ago, a part of me that was more open and less calculated. Before emotion became a liability, and before I lost Katya.

“How’s life treating you, then?” I asked, trying to hide my suspicion. We hadn't spoken in years, and I knew there had to be a reason for this sudden reconnection.

“Good, good,” he replied casually. “Things are different now, but I’ve built a nice life for myself. You always were the one with the sharp mind, though. I hear things about you, Maxim. You’ve done well for yourself.”

I grunted in response, feeling uneasy with the praise. Nikolai was always clever, and there was always a motive behind his charm.

There was a pause on the line before Nikolai's voice softened, nostalgia creeping in. "I still think about Katya sometimes."

The mention of my sister’s name hit me like a punch to the gut. I hadn’t heard anyone say her name aloud in years, not since the day she was murdered. It was a wound I had never let heal, a scar that drove every decision I made.

“She was special,” Nikolai continued, his voice filled with a warmth I had long since buried. “She had that fire in her, you know? That spirit. I tried to look out for her, but…” His voice trailed off, and I could hear the regret.

My jaw clenched. Katya had been everything to me, the only person who saw the parts of me I kept hidden from the world. Losing her had changed everything. It had hardened me, mademe cold, made me ruthless. Nikolai had been there when we first found out what had happened to her, but he had drifted away after that. I didn’t blame him. Grief does strange things to people.

“She’s gone,” I said, my voice tight. “What’s the point of dwelling on it now?”

Nikolai sighed, and I could hear the sadness in his voice. “I know, Maxim. I know. But sometimes, it helps to remember where we came from. What we lost.”

“Ineverforget what I lost, Nikolai,” I growled. Then I stayed silent, letting his words sink in. I had spent years trying to forget where I came from, to distance myself from the boy I once was. That boy had been vulnerable, and I had no use for vulnerability anymore. But hearing Nikolai talk about those days brought it all rushing back. The memories of our childhood, of Katya’s laughter, of the three of us navigating a world that was too big and too cruel for us. It was a time when I had allowed myself to feel.

But that was before.

“What do you want, Nikolai?” I asked, cutting through the sentimentality. I couldn’t afford to indulge in memories. Not now.

There was a brief pause on the other end of the line, and then Nikolai chuckled softly. “Always straight to the point. I admire that about you. I was just thinking… Maybe we could reconnect. You and me. We were family once, Maxim. Maybe we could be one again.”

I frowned. “Why now?”

He didn’t answer right away, and I could feel the weight of the unspoken things hanging between us. Finally, he spoke, his voice quieter, more serious. “Things are changing, Maxim. You know that as well as I do. The world we grew up in, the worldyou’ve built—it’s all shifting. I thought maybe we could help each other.”

There it was. The real reason for his call. I wasn’t surprised. Nikolai was older, wiser now, but he hadn’t changed. He was still the same man who always had an angle, always looking for the next opportunity. And yet, part of me felt a strange sense of relief. At least he was honest about it.

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