Page 14 of Ruthless Lullaby

"Goodbye,Matushka," I whisper as I lean in to give my mother another gentle kiss on the forehead. She is drifting off to sleep in her armchair. "I love you, Mom," I say. She weakly squeezes my hand in response.

"I love you too,sinok." I know she probably can't remember which one of her boys I am, but it doesn't matter to me. I love her, no matter what.

I turn around and take slow, deliberate steps towards the door, making sure to close it with a gentle click behind me. As I walk down the hallway, the gravity of the situation weighs heavily on my shoulders. The lost shipment, the deceased crew members, the potential repercussions with the Shirkov family - it's all a fucking mess. But as I glance back at my mother's room, I am reminded of my motivation for everything I do. This empire I've built, as dangerous and complicated as it is, it's all for them - my family. To keep them safe, comfortable, cared for.

As I reach for my phone to call Pavel, I brace myself mentally. There is no space for distractions now. I have a shipwreck to handle, an organ to replace, and consequences to deal with.

Chapter Seven

Maron

I end the call with Pavel and open the door to my office.

To my surprise, Maurice is sitting on my couch. Despite not having seen my half-brother for a long time, he’s the last person I want to be around on a fucked-up day like today.

"Wow," I say. "You are only a day late, brother. That's an improvement. Knowing you and your excellent time keeping, I expected your visit next week."

"There's no need for your sarcasm, Maron," he says, his face sour. "Hi, by the way. I see you still don't believe in greeting. Some things just don't change."

I ignore his shitty comment. "Sarcasm? I’d call it realism, Maurice. You promised to pitch up yesterday and you didn't. Again."

"I had a good reason not to come yesterday," he says, his voice hoarse. "Anyway, good to see you too, brother,"

I frown as I look at him. He looks like he hasn't slept a minute. For a brief moment, I almost feel bad for him. But then again, he’s an idiot. Sure, he's technically my half-brother, but let's be honest, Maurice is a complete fuck-up. He always had a habit of drinking and gambling, and he was always terrible with money. He says one thing and then does another.

Not wanting to spark further conflict, I ask, "You okay, Maurice? What brings you back to me after all this time?"

“Yeah, I'm alright,” he sighs. “Except I'm hungover as hell."

I look at him. "I can see that. Still drinking much, huh?"

He shrugs. "I try not to. But yesterday was the shittiest day of my entire life. Sorry, I didn't call, Maron."

I walk to the booze cabinet and turn back to him. "Want remedy?"

Maurice shakes his head. "Not now, thanks. It will just make things worse."

I pour myself a small shot of vodka. "Well, isn’t that an improvement. I'll drink on my own, then." I down it. "Now tell me what happened. Nothing good, judging from your looks. You look like utter shit,bratok."

He nods. "And I feel like it, too."

I down another vodka. "And the reason is?"

"I'm single again."

I raise an eyebrow, surprised by his openness. Maurice has never been one to share his personal life with me. But then again, I’ve never been one to share mine with him. This time, however, I can see desperation in his eyes, and the way his shoulders slump tell a story. A fucked-up one. The dickhead hit rock bottom, I’m sure of it. It’s not the first time he does that. And as usual, he has no one else but me to turn to.

"Single, huh?" I say, pouring him another shot. "Must be serious if you're telling me about it."

Maurice nods, grabbing the glass. "Yeah, well... when you've fucked up as badly as I have, your pride goes out the window. I need help, Maron. And you're the only one I've got left."

Right. Just what I expected. So much for sorting out his life and finally finding a stable girlfriend. Looks like he fucked that up too. I almost feel sorry for the girl, whoever she is. But then again, she’s probably better off without my fuckup of a brother.

"Sorry to hear," I tell him. Lie of the fucking century. I’m not sorry. I’m sure he brought this on himself. “And now, get to the point, Maurice. What do you need my help with?”

He heaves a big sigh. “I think I changed my mind about the vodka. Give me a shot.”

I pour him one, and he downs it. He sits in silence for a moment, his eyes distant as he gathers his thoughts. When he finally speaks, his voice is tinged with a melancholy that catches me off guard. His eyes are fixed on a distant point as he begins to speak.

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