Page 65 of Corrupted Guilt

But on the other hand, this baby shouldn’t be forced to grow up in his Kolesova Bratva, especially if it’s like me and doesn’t belong. But it wanted pickles right now, so life decisions could wait.

The groceries were all put away, the food was simmering, I had eaten and decided to make a fire and sit on my ass awhile, as the pasta cooked. There was wood and I made a little two-by-two Lincoln log fort and stuck kindling under one corner. Air flow was the key to a good fire, and this would be pretty good. Then I remembered all the kindling Yuri had created from my bedroom door and went to go grab some of that. It was light and unpainted and should have been perfect.

I went upstairs and started gathering some of the splinters in my arms when I noticed two great big feet poking out of the blankets in my bed. Dirty boots, caked with mud, and I knew this was not Yuri. This was not Maxim either. Neither of whom would make a mess like this in my room and in my bed. I would kill them. I stood up slowly, the feeling was like I was underwater, my body and limbs heavy, sound distorted, and everything not quite real. There was terror in my belly, but I had to move, see the face I knew I didn’t recognize, then run like hell out of here.

As I stood very carefully, very slowly, I saw a big arm clawing the sheets, covered in streaks of blood. All I knew was this arm was not Yuri’s and not Maxim’s and they surely would have told me if they dropped someone off.

It sure as hell wasn’t goldilocks in my bed.

“Don’t wake Vanya, he needs his rest after Yuri’s men shot him up,” a high-pitched voice tells me.

I knew that voice.

Chills run up my spine.

Petya.

“I bet I can find us another bed that’s empty. We are getting married, after all. You don’t mind if I sample the wares beforehand, right? I’ve already bought the cow, it’s time you give me some milk.”

30. Yuri

I left her alone, under Maxim’s protection and headed two towns over to one of the other safe houses where we spread rumors Katya was being kept. It was attacked but repelled and we had one of Petya’s men alive. Anton had called and told me that the guy wouldn’t talk unless it was to me, personally.

Not over the phone, not on zoom, in person. And only to me.

It felt like a trap but what choice did I have but go? Maxim was plenty of protection from Petya since all his men were dead by now. So, I went to find out what this guy had to say to me.

Leaving Katya was not easy after that show she put on. She was fierce and tough but so goddamned vulnerable at the same time it made me ache. There went the hope I had been cultivating that she would understand and accept things as they were. As they had to be. I had told her what happened that night Dmitry died and hoped she understood that it wasn’t her fault, it was mine. I took my eyes off the ball that night. I saw the fight Dmitry and Katya had and I chose her. I felt I needed to look after her, the little girl crushed and crying because … because I was in love with her even then.

There’s never been anyone else, only her.

And that’s what killed Dmitry.

My inattention to my job.

My love for Katya.

I wouldn’t make the same mistake again. I couldn’t let myself until the job was done, until she was safe, Petya was gone, and I was in control of the bratva.

Then … but it was no use thinking about that until it actually happened. Not before, no matter what heartache it causes her.

Or me.

If I let myself love her and stop trying to protect her the same thing could happen. I promised myself a long time ago I wouldn’t let that happen.

But she was right that letting it go didn’t have to mean disaster.

It could mean happiness for us too.

She had to give up her survival guilt just like I did and then maybe we could figure out the rest.

But that was for later. I felt too light at the possibility of this decision. I had to bring myself back down to earth and steel myself to get through this afternoon and questioning the last of Petya’s men.

Hope was for later, now I had to abandon it to do my job.

It was dark as I arrived at the alternate safe house. As I drove towards it, I saw it all lit up, every light in every room must be on. And it was all the light for miles around, this desolate lonely farmhouse surrounded by gently sloping, furrowed fields. A place where no one would hear anyone scream, where even gun shots went unheard.

The cleanup team was already at work when I was driving up. Cleaning up the bodies and disposing of them in deep pits, covered in lime, calcium hydroxide to help decomposition and keep the smell down.

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