Page 89 of Kings of Violence

“Or?” she prompts almost gently, and to my surprise, she reaches out and touches the top of my hand.

I turn my hand so I can twine my fingers with hers. “He believed in me. Nobody else did. Or does. He saved me. He’s a great man.”

Sierra sighs, but she doesn’t pull away. “You’ll have to forgive me if I don’t see him the same way,” she says. “Yuri, he and Nikolai really hurt me. Badly. Physically, mentally… god, I am so fucked up that I’m starting to think—” She shakes her head. “He’s not a great man. He’s a man who will do what’s best for himself, fuck the consequences.” Despite the words, her voice stays quiet, almost soft.

“That’s everybody,” I answer. “The world is out to get you. It doesn’t care who you are. If you aren’t one of the ones in power, you get trampled over, discarded, forgotten. Kotya is just making sure that the people he cares about are taken care of.”

I half expect her to instantly argue with me, but when she only gives a thoughtful hum, I remember she was born into gang life. She might not have been brought into the fold, not really, but her father certainly hadn’t hesitated to get me out of the picture to protect his dear, sweet, innocent Sierra.

We fall silent for a moment, but she finally says, “Is that what it was like for you? Getting fucked over, until you found Konstantin?”

I don’t want to tell her this, but I want her to hate Kotya even less. I want to make her see what I do.

“Yeah,” I say, not looking at her. “I grew up in an orphanage in Moscow. When I was sixteen, they told me to figure life out for myself. You can figure out how well I did with that.” I ball up the shredded remains of the napkin, annoyed that the memory still hurts.

“And here we are,” she says slowly. “Completely differentbackgrounds, but now our lives are… entwined, I guess.” She squeezes my hand, though the look on her face isn’t exactly a happy one. “I want to know more about you. You know so much about me, but you’re a mystery — you, and Nikolai, and Konstantin. If I’m going to be part of your… family?” She makes it sound like a question even though she should know by now that it’s a fact. “I want to know those things.”

“Well, I’m not going to spill the rest of my life story here,” I say, drawing my hand back. “It’s time for your class, isn’t it?” I check my phone, even though I don’t remember when, exactly, her next class is.

“Not yet,” Sierra says. “But we can head that way. Just…” She grimaces. “If we run into dickwad, leave him alone, all right?”

“I’m not agreeing to that,” I say menacingly. “If he approaches you, he will learn how many fingers he doesn’t truly need.”

She scowls at me. “He doesn’t deserve to be mangled.” She says the words, but there’s something in them, something I can’t read, that makes me think she might not be telling the truth.

She packs her laptop and textbook away, taking another sip of her coffee.

“All right. Let’s go.”

I get up and wrap an arm around her shoulders. “If he is lucky, he’s skipping his class today.”

“Yeah,” she agrees. “Let’s hope.”

Beating up her ex-boyfriend sounds like something that would lighten the mood, but unfortunately I’m not so lucky.

I just get to spend the next hour lurking outside the classroom, wondering if I would have enjoyed a life where I was the one attending these classes.

Probably not.

TWENTY

Nikolai

I glanceat my phone again. Yuri should have been back with Sierra by now. I shoot him a text, but there’s no immediate response.

He hasn’t even read the last three texts I sent him.

I growl in frustration and make my way to Konstantin’s tool shed.

He’s standing by the large table with various papers spread out across it. The cabinet he was restoring is still unfinished, sitting off to the side.

“Nikolai,” Konstantin greets. “Perfect timing. Perhaps you can help me make a decision.”

“I was actually going to ask…” I shake my head. “Never mind, you first.” I get closer to him, and I stop short when I see exactly what he’s poring over.

The papers are all different crib designs.

“This one is technically the simplest,” Konstantin says, pointing to one. “But it doesn’t look as pretty, does it?” He makes a hmm-ing sound. “But I’m not sure I can manage the complicated pieces on this other one…”

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