I looked between the two men, still not understanding what was happening. My mother was a sobbing mess now, her cries loud as she struggled against the bonds that secured her to the chair.
Kostya was starting to wake up, his low, rough groans the only thing I could focus on. I looked at him just as he lifted his head, blinking his eyes rapidly, his gaze landing on me.
His entire body tightened and his jaw clenched. His biceps tightened as he pulled his arms, trying to break free. He had a glazed-over look in his eyes, but with each passing second, I could see them becoming clearer.
His tendons and sinews all bunched and flexed, constricted and relaxed as he struggled. I heard the sound of my father cocking his gun and then watched in horror as he lifted it in Kostya’s direction.
“Ruin, shut the fuck up and calm down. It’ll be your turn soon enough.”
“Papa,” I said in a soft voice, hoping to calm him down a little bit. He looked at me for just a second and I saw this strange sort of anguish on his face. “Tell me what’s going on.”
When he exhaled and turned away from me, I looked back at Kostya. He shook his head slowly, still pulling at his arms, trying to free them. I could feel the primal energy pouring off of him.
My father walked back to the fireplace and stood there for a second, watching the flames and staying silent.
My father turned suddenly and made quick work over to Timur. He gripped his hair, yanked his head back, and coldcocked him with the butt of the gun so hard I actually gasped and stood up, instinct telling me to step forward and stop what my father was doing.
I heard Kostya growling low, but I held up a hand, hoping he’d stop. I didn’t want my father’s attention directed back to him.
Timur groaned and blinked open his eyes, one of them nearly swollen shut. It took him a second as he stared up at my father before recognition finally flared. He looked around the room.
When his focus landed on my mother, a deep, painful noise came from the back of his throat. And then his eyes widened and a terrified look crossed his face when his gaze found me.
A terrified look for me.
“That’s right, motherfucker. The truth is gonna come out for everyone to hear.” My father’s Russian was grittier, as if he were running the streets and not helping to rule a mafia empire.
My father ran his hand over his face and lowered the gun to his side. I exhaled roughly, not realizing I’d been holding my breath this whole time.
Kostya was still as stone, muscles tense and cut sharply across his tattooed skin. Despite him being bound, he looked powerful and terrifyingly lethal.
“Tell her,” my father barked out to my mother. She sat up straighter, eyes wide, black tears still streaking down her cheeks.
She shook her head feverishly and my father made a deep, low sound before taking a step toward her and lifting the gun to place it at her temple.
“Fucking tell her, you worthless whore.”
I made a strangled noise, taking a step forward, but my father cut me off with a nasty glare, silently demanding I stay put.
“She’s going to find out one way or another. If you wanna live for the next five minutes, you’ll open your mouth and start speaking.”
He dug the gun against her head and she closed her eyes, squeezing them tight.
When she opened them again, she looked at me, torment and sympathy I’d never seen come from her cutting me like sharpened glass.
“I’m sorry, Anastasia,” she whispered. Then she looked at Timur.
His eye had fully swollen shut now, but he was looking at her with something akin to affection.
I had this weird, heavy sensation that settled deep in me.
“I’m sorry, darling,” my mother whispered, and it was so strange hearing her say any kind of endearment to me since she never had before.
“What are you sorry about?” I whispered back, realizing I was unable to move, as if my feet were rooted to the spot.
“Vladimir was away in Moscow, and Timur had been left to guard me. I knew that if I couldn’t give Vladimir what he wanted, I’d be useless to him and he’d find someone else. So I did what I had to in order to survive.” She squeezed her eyes shut.
Horrifying realization filled me as I looked at Timur.
“Vladimir had wanted a baby for years, and it being my duty as his wife to give it to him, we tried. I endured sleeping with him, praying it would take because there was nothing more I wanted than to get him off my back. Literally and figuratively.”
There was that anger in my mother I recognized so well.