Page 80 of Shattered Cradle (Makarova Bratva Duet)

“What was he like when he was… before?” I ask, stumbling over my words.

“He was a bully,” Aleks says bluntly.

I raise my eyebrows. “To you?”

“To everyone. But then again, being the don of a Bratva, you have to be.”

“Does that mean you’re a bully?”

“What do you think?”

I look back at the lake. “Seems like I’ve been surrounded by bullies my entire life.”

“You know the only language bullies understand or respect?”

“Thousand bucks says you’re gonna say, ‘Strength.’”

He nods. “Precisely.”

“What makes you think I have any of that?” I say bitterly.

“You survived the funeral, didn’t you?”

I feel my sense of calm start to vaporize. “Did I?” I ask. “There are moments when I feel like I did and there are moments, like right now, when I feel like I’m barely holding on.”

“Death is inevitable, Olivia. It just comes sooner for some than for others.”

I glance at him, trying to imagine an end to the man standing before me. “So you’re not actually invincible?”

He smirks and then looks out over the water. “When my father had the stroke, they called me in Russia. They told me to come back home. I said no.”

“Why?”

“I had business to finish and leaving wasn’t an option. I had to keep going.”

“Is that the lesson you’re trying to impart to me?” I ask. “That I have to keep going?”

He turns to regard me. “What other choice do you have?”

I sigh, putting my hand on my belly. “None at all.”

20

ALEKS

She places her hand on her stomach as though she can sense the child inside her.

I wonder just how real it feels to her. If she can imagine what the future holds.

Because I sure as hell can’t.

“What are you thinking?”

“Nothing important,” I demure. “How was the ceremony?”

“Beautiful. Mom got a great turnout. She would have been thrilled.”

“Let me guess: she was the kind of woman who had her entire funeral planned out?”

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