Page 50 of Vitaly

So while most of what he said felt like nothing but stories, I tried to trust him the way I came to trust my father. And there was one story he repeated to me over and over again about an adulterous woman who was brought to Jesus to be stoned. Abram explained how Jesus had found her guilty, as she was, but that he chose to show mercy and understanding and to prove a point to her accusers who were unwilling to bring forth the adulterous man to be stoned as well.

As I listened to Abram read, and then explain, I nodded along, as if such a thing made sense. I knew what he wanted me to do, what he wanted me to use his words for. To forgive myself. He wanted the words to relieve me of the shame I carried into that prison and later of the shame that grew from my actions while I was there.

It never worked, of course. But still, I walked into a tattoo parlor two days after being set free with his words sketched onto a notepad. I knew even if I couldn’t believe them, I would need them, needhimwith me.

I run my hands over the words now, my eyelids drooping from a tiredness that runs all the way down to my bones.

Let he who is without sin cast the first stone.

A knock sounds on my bedroom door.

“Sorry to bother you, sir,” a woman says through the bedroom door, her voice drifting into the bathroom. “Mr. Petrov has requested you for dinner. The guests have arrived.”

My eyes close as I slowly inhale a breath. I forgot about the dinner with the other lieutenants.

After putting on a shirt and suit jacket, I make my way downstairs and into the dining hall, rolling my shoulders to loosen the tension. When I make out the table of guests, my steps falter a moment, seeing Olive for the second time today, now dressed in a black, long-sleeved dress with her eyes pointed at her plate. I quickly recover and lift my lips at Nikita and the seven lieutenants, three with women sitting next to them.

“Vitaly!” Nikita exclaims, spreading his arms as he stands. “Come, I saved you a seat.” He puts a hand on my back when I draw near and gestures to the chair beside him, putting Alik right across from me and Nikita at the head of the table.

“For those of you who haven’t met him, this is mydearestnephew, Vitaly. Some of you may have heard of his misfortune in Russia or his unfortunate past, but that only makes his reunion with us extra special.” He gives me a smile that I don’t return then motions to Alik.

“Vitaly, I’m sure you remember Alik.” He points at Roman next. “And I believe you and Roman have history?”

He pauses to stare, like he truly is asking the question. Like it’s a secret that I got Roman’s little brother killed. With Roman’s eyes pinned to me in a glare, I start to wonder if Nikita exclusively invited people who despise me.

Fyodor, Mila’s father, is here with her mother seated beside him. That’s three. Mikhail and I never got along—that’s four. There are two men I don’t recognize, but they don’t look friendly.

Then there’s Maksim Sokolov.

Him, I do remember, but he wasn’t a lieutenant back then. My father liked him and took him under his wing. I always thought he wished I was more like Maksim and that Maksim was the son my father never had. If I hadn’t gotten my father killed, Maksim could’ve gone far under his guidance.

Although it seems as if things have worked out for him anyway.

There’s a woman next to Maksim who I assume is his wife. She keeps her eyes fixated on her plate like Olive, but she doesn’t look scared. She looks angry.

Doesshehate me too?

Does he? Staring at him now, I can’t tell. Nikita introduces me to each person, some unnecessarily, leaving Maksim until last. All he does is nod.

Finally, I’m able to sit, Nikita at my left, Mila’s mother at my right. I’m guessing that was intentional.

“Let’s eat,” Nikita cheerfully says, clapping his hands twice. Women immediately enter carrying plates and wine bottles, and the whole thing makes me feel like I’m in a temple or something, and Nikita is an emperor.

Mila is the one to fill my wine glass, and when I catch her bare breasts visible in the white mesh top, my lungs pause. Not out of lust but because her mother is right next to me. When my eyes scan the rest of Mila’s body, they widen. She’s in a white thong, practically naked, and when she pours her mother a glass of wine neither of them make eye contact or say a word.

I look around at the other women dressed the same, with expressionless faces, pouring wine into glasses or putting plates in front of people. But aside from the woman sitting beside me, no one seems to really notice them. Conversation resumes among the men while the women stare at their food and Mila’s mother takes in tiny, sharp breaths next to me. She’s the only one who seems to agree that this is wrong.

“I’m so happy you could join us this evening, Aly,” Nikita draws, leaning forward on the table while smiling at Mila’s mother. He must notice my confused expression because he explains. Actually, I think he’s more than happy to. I think he knows I’m bothered by this. “Aly and Fyodor don’t typically make it to our dinners. Only the top-ranking lieutenants attend,but I thought you would enjoy seeing them again.” He waves his hand between the pair.

“It’s an honor, Pakhan,” Fyodor gushes with what appears to be genuine enthusiasm. As if he truly wants to be here.

Aly clears her throat as she flinches, pulling my eyes to Fyodor’s hand on her thigh.

“Yes, Pakhan,” she says. “Thank you for the invitation.”

“My pleasure.” Nikita raises his glass, and the pair hurry to mimic him, making fools of themselves in the process. I watch the display with disgust-coated curiosity.

People areterrifiedof this man. No matter how badly I search my memories, I can’t recall him being terrifying or even especially cruel.

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