Page 73 of Shattered Cradle (Makarova Bratva Duet)

“She was my mother, too. Sheismy mother,” I correct.

“She was my mother first.”

“Don’t give me that shit,” I snap. “I’m trying here. I came alone, didn’t I? You brought your fiancé, but I came alone.”

“My fiancé is not a rapist.”

“Neither is Aleks.”

She scoffs. “If he’s not a rapist, then he’s certainly a murderer. He killed our mother.”

I go cold. “That’s not fair.”

“You’re right,” Mia says with an angry nod. She’s staring daggers through me, so cold and distant that I suddenly can’t remember how it ever felt for her to look at me with genuine love in her eyes. “It’s not totally accurate. Youhelpedhim kill our mother. Good thing, too, since you’ve had the practice with Dad.”

The words don’t hit all at once. Maybe it’s a self-preservation thing. Hearing your own worst fears said out loud is too much for anyone to take. Especially on a day like today.

For now, there’s only shock. And the urge to leave.

Right fucking now.

I back shakily away. Mia looks at me the whole time. Until I retreat through the veil of willow flowers and she disappears from sight.

I tried.I tried. Isn’t that what I wanted to do? Isn’t that what Aleks would have done?

But as I meander between the headstones, I wish I hadn’t tried at all.

“Olivia?”

Demyan is standing a few yards off, watching me with narrowed eyes. “You okay?”

“No,” I say with a shake of my head. “Take me home, please.”

There’s no denying it anymore. These people are no longer my home. These strangers are no longer my family.

18

ALEKS

“You called for me?”

I have to admit: even when she looks like she’s expecting an ambush at any moment, my mother is as elegant as they come.

It’s not just the fact that she’s petite with exotic features. She also has sophisticated taste. She’s wearing a red silk blouse and a white skirt so pristine it’s almost blinding.

“You look nice.”

She raises her eyebrows in surprise. “Do I?”

“You already know you do.”

She smiles and her rigid posture relaxes. It reminds me to try harder with her. Our relationship has been strained for a long time. Maybe it’d be more productive if we learned to trust one another.

“You stopped all contact with Hargrove,” I say.

It’s a statement, not a question. I know she has.

“You told me to, didn’t you?”

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