Page 167 of Silenced

My fingers tighten around the steering wheel as I croak, “I appreciate your help, Luka.” The words aren’t released in a comfortable rhythm—more like staccato gunshots as I struggle to get them out.

When I have, I can feel the sweat gathering at my temples from the effort.

It isn’t easy talking to Cassiopeia, far from it, but she unlocks something in me that no one else ever has.

Certainly not fucking Fyodor or Luka.

“I know you do,” he exclaims, surprise in his tone at hearing me speak. It’s been at least eight years, after all. “Since when do you talk?” He pauses then laughs. “Wait, let me guess—you got yourself a woman, don’t you?”

I grunt.

“‘Course you do. They can’t stand it when you don’t talk. Makes it easier, though. Practice makes perfect. You sound like you’ve been deepthroating a donkey.”

“Luka, your way with words,” I mutter, the reprimand close to noiseless.

“It’s a gift,” he chirps, ignoring my glower.

Heaving a sigh, I reply to his earlier question, “Maxim has run out of options.” I swallow. Concentrate. “Disenfranchising is his only option for survival.”

Luka considers that. “What the hell was he doing?”

I reach for the bottle of water he offers me, well aware of the strain I’m under. “I don’t know.” The liquid eases the tightness of my throat. “He’s been…distantsince I picked Pavel over him as Obschak.”

“Maxim doesn’t know what Pavel did for you, does he?” Luka asks carefully.

Luka knows because he was like me—two kids just trying to bring in food for the family they chose.

“Nyet,” I snap, my answer slipping from me with more ease than before. “And he won’t. Understood?”

Luka grumbles, “Understood. You should tell him. It’s important.”

“It isn’t.”

“It fucking is if he blows up a part of Petrovksy Palace and you don’t know why!” He sniffs. “Not only is that Kuznetsov turf and you know the Krestniy Otets has a hard-on for that old bastard, but we’ve had that ‘no explosive’ rule in place for the past five years, Niko. Maxim couldn’t have fucked up any worse if he tried.

“Still, he’s only new to the game, isn’t he? You can tell. Boy’s got no place being a Pakhan as inexperienced as he is.”

That has me scraping a hand over my face because I know he’s right.

There’s a reason that the position of Pakhan is granted not taken.

I knew about the ‘no explosive’ rule, but it’s unlikely that Pavel or Dmitri do. Never mind Maxim who was far down the chain prior to snatching the position of Pakhan in New York.

As for anything Kuznetsov-related, the consensus in the brotherhood is to leave well enough alone. Only leaders know how deeply the Krestniy Otets wants to be joined with that old bastard who gives scum-suckers a bad name. It goes deeper than wanting his daughter to marry into that mess.

Luka cracks his knuckles. “You killing Turgenev won’t help.”

Controlling the wheel with my knees now that we’re on a highway, I sign, “Never thought it would.” Relieved that I don’t have to talk, I grin. “Still felt fucking good though.”

He snickers. “You didn’t bring Dmitri with you?”

“Wasn’t going to bring him here.”

“Sofia would have smoothed things over if you had,” he points out.

“They were childhood friends. She doesn’t even know him anymore.” Not that time or distance has changedhisfeelings forher.

“It’s your childhood friends who are saving your asses today, Nikolai. Don’t discount longtime friendships. All the guys with Maxim are ones from the orphanage or the streets. We don’t forget. You know that. Why should Sofia? Especially after what went down before Dmitri ran away.”

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