Page 74 of Vitaly

“What isn’t up to me?”

She shrugs. “Anything, really. But certainly anything having to do with me… I don’t belong to you, Vitaly.”

I frown when I realize what she’s talking about. I told her she would never blow another man again. She thinks I’m wrong.

“You don’t belong to anyone.”

She huffs, but it isn’t irritated. It’s sad. “Why? Because you say so?”

I watch her, looking more hopeless than I’ve ever seen her.

I see her point.

Who amI? A soldier? I have no power. No say in her future. I don’t even have a say in my own future.

Right now, I am nothing. All I’m doing is existing here. I’ll never be able to help Mila like this.

I suppress a growl and look up at the ceiling again, thinking about all the nights I spent in this room. All the nights I dreamt of being Pakhan, ignoring the fact that my father would have to be dead before it could happen.

All I wanted was that authority. I collected every drop of it my father spilled from his cup. I used my name in every situation I could to prove I was a man worthy of respect, which was ironic because any man who does such a thing disqualifies himself.

I wasn’t worthy then. Not of respect, certainly not of authority.

But now?

No. Instantly, my mind registers the answer. I’m just not sure that it matters.

“What do you want more than anything in the world?” I ask, keeping my eyes on the ceiling.

Mila is quiet for several moments, but I don’t think she’s considering the question, only her answer. I think she’s known what she’s wanted for a very long time.

“Power.”

Power.

My lips tilt slightly on one side while I move my hand to lightly caress her back. I’m not surprised by the answer. I figured it out the night at the lake.

Mila was born to be a queen. Plain and simple. Hell, maybe she was born to be a king.Sheis worthy.Sheis fit to lead.

If she was by my side… Maybe one day, I could be worthy too. Maybe my father knew that.

“I have to be Pakhan in order to give you that, don’t I?”

Mila stiffens. She sits up, peering at me with wide eyes. She says nothing. Her eyes say it all.

“I didn’t come here for that. I promise, I told you the truth. And in the spirit of honesty… Being Pakhan isn’t something I’ve wanted for a very long time. But for you, I will do it. If you ask.”

She stares at me for long moments, saying nothing. Her expression isn’t one of gratitude, excitement, or hope. I don’t know what she’s thinking, but it isn’t what I expected.

When she climbs off the bed and starts dressing, I sit up. “Mila.”

No response. I think about asking her to stop, to talk to me, but I’m too caught up in confusion to say anything. Instead, I watch her walk to the door and leave without another word.

20

MILA

My father sits at his usual booth at the bar he’s chosen as his ‘office.’ Cigar smoke curls up to the ceiling as he talks to the two men seated with him, neither made men. They’re associates, and to be quite frank, unimportant ones.

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