Page 54 of Her Darkest Possession
Anatoly turns to me. I understand immediately what he's asking. This is my grievance. My interrogation to lead.
I straighten my spine, and keep my hand in Anatoly's for strength. "How long have you been working against Anatoly, Vassily? Against me?"
Vassily looks at me then, really looks at me for the first time since entering the room. Gone is the leering, predatory gaze that made my skin crawl that day in the hallway. Instead, there's something like resignation in his eyes.
"Since I heard about Anatoly's intent to marry you," he admits without hesitation.
The honesty surprises me, though it probably shouldn't. What's the point in lying now?
"Why?" I ask, the single word heavy between us.
"Because Anatoly was supposed to marry Lola," Vassily answers. "All the agreements had been signed, the guests invited, and preparations made. And by walking away from that to marry you..." He gestures vaguely in my direction, "he broke all the rules that we were all expected to follow."
I can't help but think about what Anatoly just said moments before Vassily walked in. About rules without consequences being meaningless. About the weight those consequences carry.
"So," I say slowly, gathering my thoughts. "You felt like you had the right to punish Anatoly for it? By threatening me? By helping your mother threaten my child? A child who's the heir of the very bratva you swore your life to?"
Vassily shakes his head, his eyes darting briefly to his brother. "It wasn't me who felt like I had the right. It was our mother."
"And what," Anatoly interjects, his voice dangerously soft. "Gave mother the right to dispense punishment?"
Vassily answers simply, without hesitation: "Because she's our mother."
The words hang in the air between us. There's no defiance in them, no challenge. Nothing but a statement of what Vassily considers an obvious truth.
"Is our mother the pakhan?"
"No."
"Then why," Anatoly continues, his voice dangerously soft, "does mother believe she has the right to dispense punishment upon a pakhan and his wife?"
Vassily shifts his weight from one foot to the other. I can see the tension in his shoulders, the way he's trying to find an answer that won't further anger his brother.
"Because that's what mothers do," he finally says. "They punish their children who fail to see the larger picture."
I feel Anatoly's hand tighten around mine, a slight tremor running through his fingers that betrays his anger.
"And doyousee this larger picture, Vasya?" Anatoly asks.
Vassily pauses, thinking. The silence stretches between us, thick and uncomfortable. I watch his face as he wrestles with the question, and for a moment, I almost feel sorry for him. Almost.
"For my entire life," Vassily says, "Mother has known what's best for the bratva. For my entire life, I've watched the bratva grow stronger with her pulling the strings in the background."
Anatoly makes a sound of disgust low in his throat. "You're young, Vasya. You haven't seen the inner workings of the bratva and its network of interests, alliances, and lies that hold it together."
I watch as Vassily's expression shifts, a flash of uncertainty crossing his features. It's the first time I've seen him look truly vulnerable, and it strikes me that despite everything, he's still just a boy who's spent his whole life believing in the words of his mother.
I understand that. I can even sympathize with that. Because I used to be the same way. I thought that my mother could do anything, that no matter what kind of injustice the world throws my way, she could make it all better.
Until the monsters of the world showed me that it was all just an illusion.
Until those monsters took her away from me.
I squeeze Anatoly's hand once more before letting go and turning my attention fully to Vassily.
"There's nothing wrong with believing in your mother, Vassily," I say quietly. "Nothing wrong with thinking she knows best. God knows I hope that one day my child will believe in me as strongly as you believe in Valentina."
Vassily's eyes widen slightly at my gentler tone, though he remains tense, waiting for the other shoe to drop.
