Page 92 of Shattered Altar (Makarova Bratva Duet)

“It was the most exciting four years of my life.”

“Aleks was in Russia for four whole years?”

“He moved back and forth. But there was another Bratva that was threatening our territory. He needed to make sure our business interests were stable before coming back here.”

“And he did what he set out to do?”

She smiles. “I think you already know the answer to that.”

I stare at the croissants as though I’m having the conversation with them, but I still don’t make a move to pick one up. Resist, says the stubborn little asshole inside of my head. Don’t give up the fight.

But it’s getting harder and harder to stay strong. They look like buttery little pillows.

“It must have been hard for you to step down after having that kind of power,” I mumble just to keep my lips moving.

She shrugs. “It was never meant for me. I was just holding the throne for my son.”

“Still…” I can see something like regret in her eyes. “You never hoped he would just stay in Russia?”

“That would certainly have made your life easier. Mine, too, in a manner of speaking. But no, I knew he’d never stay. We are Russian, but he was born and raised here. He was always going to come back.”

“Not exactly what I asked.”

“I didn’t want to be the one solely in charge, Olivia. But I did—I do—want a seat at the table. I think I deserve that much after everything I did to keep this ship above water while he was gone.”

I nod. “It’s a reasonable ask.”

“Maybe to you. But in this world, it’s ridiculous.”

“Ridiculous?” I blink. “You did the job already.”

“The men weren’t aware that I was acting on my own,” she explains. “They believed Aleksandr was relaying instructions from abroad.”

“And Aleks didn’t mind that?”

“He was young and he had a lot to deal with in Russia. He nearly died while he was over there.”

“How?”

“A battle with the enemy,” she says. “He took a bullet to the chest mid-fight.”

“And someone got him out of there?”

She shakes her head. “No one got him out, Olivia. He just kept fighting.”

“Is this supposed to scare me?”

She looks almost hurt by that. “I’m not trying to scare you, Olivia. I’m only trying to help.”

I try to tell myself I have nothing to feel bad for, considering the position I’m in. But I do feel like a bitch. It’s not in my nature to turn away from kindness.

I blame Aleks. He’s not even in the room and he’s bringing out the worst in me.

“Sorry,” I mumble. “I know your hands are tied. I’m just—”

“Frustrated,” she says. “I know you are. But, if I may be so bold as to suggest it, eating might help.”

She gives me an apologetic smile, and with that, I can no longer resist the temptation. So I reach out and grab a croissant. I can’t be bothered to fuss with the butter, so I just bite right into it.

---