Page 69 of Savage Surrender

I furrowed my brow, disliking how much it seemed like he was placating me. Yet, that sort of made sense. No one knew about Maxim. Not even the Baranov Boss. I didn’t understand what other details could help, but I wouldn’t be shy to provide anything that would get my brother to safety.

When I arrived at the Baranov headquarters, the mansion that the crime family called a “house”, I felt nauseous and weak from the stress of the last twenty-four hours. Viktor was perceptive as ever, holding my hand and offering me support by keeping close. I never had the opportunity to lean on someone. It was always just me. Only me. But the option of having someone else still felt so surreal.

Oleg stood in front of a large fireplace in what looked like a study. The scent of cigars wafted in the air, but it wasn’t cloying and gross like all the cigarettes the Petrov men smoked. Eva got out of a chair upon my arrival, frowning with worry.

“We’ll get your brother back,” she said.

“We will do all we can to try to get her brother back without starting a war,” Oleg corrected.

I tore my gaze from her to frown at him. That didn’t sound like a refusal to help, but it also didn’t sound like a firm vote ofconfidence that he would get things done, regardless. Keeping my mouth shut, I stared down the rival boss. The one I didn’t have to appease like I had with Igor. One I had yet to really meet to form my own independent feelings about him.

He looked fit compared to the wreckage my father had done to his body, but he bore enough similarities that there was no way I’d mistake who he was. He was a boss. A leader. The stern glint of command in his old eyes was unmistakable, but I had yet to fully accept whether he would bemyboss.

“Nice of you to join us, Irena.” His welcome was probably sincere, but I heard the test in his words.

“Nice of you to negotiate with me,” I replied.

He almost smiled, but it might have been a sneer, too. “How is it that I never knew Igor had a son?”

“Were you supposed to know?” I asked.

“Was there a reason he had to hide him?” he challenged.

I heaved out a deep sigh. “He’s never loved him. Never cared for him.”

“It doesn’t sound like he’s ever cared for you, either,” Viktor said.

“Yet he never hid her away,” Oleg pointed out. “I want to know why Igor hid his son.”

“He saw him as worthless. Useless. An embarrassment because he’s deaf and weak.”

Another man stood in the background, shaking his head and nearly stumbling in his steps. “No.” He slashed his arm through the air, but I couldn’t tell if he did it to steady himself fromfalling in this drunken stupor or if he was adamantly telling us to think otherwise about what we said.

“Boris,” Oleg warned. “Not now.”

Eva winced, as did Lev.

I could smell the reek of alcohol while Boris Baranov stumbled a yard away. He was drunk, obviously, but determined to insert himself into this conversation.

“Just sit down,” Eva said, almost blocking him from reaching Oleg.

“No. No!” Boris flung his other arm out, sending the amber liquid in his glass sloshing over the rim. “He died.”

“What?” Oleg scowled at him.

“The boy died.” He shook his head, grimacing as he tried to reach his older brother.

“What boy?”

“The boy. He died with her.”

I gaped at him. “The boy? My brother?”

Boris squinted, looking at me like he couldn’t stomach the sight of me. “You look just like her. You look…”

“Oh, God.” I felt all the blood drain from my face. I went numb with realization and dreaded that this old, fumbling drunk could be saying what I suspected he was trying to get out.

My father hated how much I looked like my mother, especially once I lost my girlish looks and matured into a woman.

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