Page 75 of Vitaly

This is who my father is allowed to deal with. The respect he’s been given. During all the years we Alekseevs have been in this country, we’ve been hungrily taking scraps, thanking our masters with humble gratitude, just hoping for the day they give us more. All values I was taught as a child have been compromised under the leadership of Nikita.

For me, that time has come to an end. For my father, I’m terrified it never will. Terrified that he’ll spend the rest of his life believing he’s just a job away from proving to Nikita that he’s valuable. As if there’s something there Nikita just hasn’t been seeing.

My father and I are too much alike.

He looks up as I approach, his brown eyes—identical to my own—hardening. He doesn’t bother with a smile or even a greeting, but the associates he’s with get the hint anyway and shift from the booth.

One clears his throat and tips his head to my father. “I trust we’ll continue this another time.”

My father shrugs, his eyes never leaving me. “Sure,” he says, his voice steel. It’s his usual voice, so I don’t know how much disdain for his current situation it truly holds. He’s been ice cold my entire life.

When the two men leave, I sit at the edge of the booth, as far from my father’s glare as I can get.

“You interrupted me,” he says, his Russian accent as thick as the salt and pepper mustache that hides his upper lip.

“Forgive me, Papa. It’s important.”

“Don’t call me that. You aren’t achild.” His nose crinkles like I’ve disgusted him, and I imagine him picturing the other night. I know, without a doubt, it isn’t Nikita he blames for that spectacle. Once again, I failed him.

I dip my chin with a single nod, my lips pressed into a straight line. “I came to warn you. I think something might happen.”

He waves his palm in a bored ‘go on’ gesture, his posture relaxed.

“I think Vitaly might become Pakhan.”

His lips spread wide with a grin as his chest starts to rumble. He laughs at me like I’m still the silly little girl who named the pigs he brought home because I wanted them to be my pets. There’s always something I don’t know.

“Oh, really?” he asks. “And why do you think that?”

Because I want him to.

I don’t say that, of course. I couldn’t even say it last night to Vitaly. But when he spoke the words, I instantaneously knew. There’s just one problem.

My family will never serve him. They’ll die fighting for Nikita unless I change their minds first.

I shrug. “I just have a feeling. People are loyal to Nikita because they fear him, but not everyone respects his leadership. If enough people believe Vitaly could get the support to take over, they’ll start flipping sides… I think it’s smart for us to be prepared for that, don’t you?”

“What are you suggesting?” my father asks, his eyes narrowing as his voice lowers. I’m walking on a tightrope here, but the one thing he wants more than anything in the world is the same thing I want. We have the same goal. He just needs to see the path that I have.

“If we wind up in a civil war, which I believe we will… We need to decide if it’s truly worth dying for Nikita.”

His face reddens as the whites of his eyes slowly show. “You fucking cowardly whore. You want to betray your master.”

“He isn’t my master,” I growl, leaning toward him on the table. After a second, I’m able to calm myself,breathe, and pull my hands back. “You saw how he treated me the other night. He’s never going to marry me, Papa. Our family will remain a joke as long as he’s in power. We shouldhopewe go to war and Vitaly wins.”

“Because things would be much better if the swine was in charge,” my father barks out a contempt-filled laugh. “Is that what you’re telling me?”

“Yes.”

His smirk slowly eases as horror-stricken understanding melts the color from his face. He stares at me for long moments, saying nothing as he confirms for himself what he already knows.

“You’re fucking him.”

“Hecaresfor me,” I say, my shoulders sinking as I beg for understanding. “He’ll marry me, I swear it. Our family will?—”

“Stop.” My father turns his head, his eyes closing.

My lips touch as I wait for him to consider it, to come to the same conclusion that I have. This is the better way. The only way that makes sense.

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