Page 53 of Vitaly

He picks up his fork, still staring at me, but yet again doesn’t manage to do anything with it. He drops it, letting it rattle on his plate, then with the most unenthusiastic, unfeeling tone, he says, “Ouch.”

He pulls out his chair and launches Mila back with his foot, sending her head connecting with one of the legs of the table. My eyes bulge as I go to stand, but Aly’s hand on my leg stops me. She’s staring straight ahead, her lips in a thin line. She shakes her head, the movement almost imperceptive, as her fingers dig into my thigh in a message to remain seated.

“You nicked me with your teeth, youcunt,” Nikita growls, putting himself away before removing his belt.

“I’m sorry, Pakhan,” Mila says, though everyone in this room, including Mila, knows that she didn’t nick him.

He takes her by her hair and drags her into view of the other guests, making a big display of it as he lifts the belt and brings it down hard on her exposed back.

My lungs stop altogether as I watch, my lips parted, my palms clammy.

I want to stop it.

I wantso desperatelyto stop it, but I don’t. I feel as frozen now as I did as a child, seeing the bruises that sprouted on my mother’s body.

I said it was strange seeing people terrified of Nikita. That I couldn’t remember him being cruel, and I can’t. But right now, I recognize him. He never resembled my grandfather much, but I know those swings, that need for torment.

Staring at Nikita now, it’s like I’m seeing my grandfather again. Maybe even meaner. Deadlier.

To Mila.

Aly’s hand remains on my thigh as a constant reminder not to interfere, like she knows what will happen if I do. Maybe this is all a big test. Maybe this is how Nikita finds his reason to kill me, disobedience in front of his top lieutenants.

My being here isn’t even helping Mila, is it? It’s hurting her. He’s going to push her until I break.

Or until he thinks I don’t care.

On that thought, I look away. Nausea roils my stomach, but I pick up my fork anyway and spear a piece of duck.

Sitting up, I train my eyes on Maksim, the only person at the table I can consider talking to.

“So… What have I missed all these years?” I ask him with a chuckle, waving the duck filled fork at him. “You seem to have moved up in rank.”

I put the meat in my mouth and chew around the nausea, blocking out the sound of leather slicing flesh the best that I can.

Maksim just stares at me. The woman next to him narrows her eyes.

“Are you married?” I ask, gesturing to the woman.

He clears his throat, putting his hand on the woman’s back. “This is my wife, Elira.”

I smile at the dark-haired woman. “Pleasure.”

She says nothing in return, but her silence is followed by the ceasing of the belt. I don’t turn my head that way. Don’t dare risk starting it up again.

“Get the fuck out,” Nikita growls to Mila, and from the thump that sounds next, I’d say he kicked her.

Mila’s heavy breathing leaves with her, carrying only a fraction of the tension away. Finally, Aly’s hand leaves me, andawkward conversation resumes, seemingly forced for Nikita’s benefit.

I peer at Aly’s pained face and am flooded with pity that has my arm moving until it’s touching hers.

I don’t know why I feel possessed to do it or why I feel it would be comforting, but when her eyes dart to me, she searches my face for what I think is sincerity, and I don’t regret the gesture.

She mouths a word to me that I don’t catch, so I squint my eyes and wait for her to do it again.

Go.

Go after Mila.

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