The mutt starts exploring the area, sniffing around and wagging his tail with contentment.
It’s a nice evening, but I’ve lost the ability to appreciate beauty anymore.
“Brother,” I say, looking at the trees in front of me rather than the grave. “You should have been here for this. We should be going into this side by side.”
Silence greets me with brutal familiarity. Some days, I have trouble recalling that shit-eating smile of his.
“I might be a father now,” I continue. “Esme will be past nine months at this point. She’s most certainly had the baby.” I run a hand through my hair. “And I don’t even know if I have a son or a daughter.”
I can hear the anguish in my own words. Like seeing my reflection for the first time in months.
The mutt moves closer and butts my hand with his head. Without thinking, I start stroking his head.
He looks at me with shocked eyes. I realize this is the first time I’ve interacted with him in any real way.
“Aracelia is a crazy bitch. But she thinks I need to find Esme,” I muse. “Ending Budimir is more important, though. Isn’t it? If you were here, you’d know what to do.”
A wind rustles through the trees. I’d like to believe it’s a sign, but I know it’s not. It’s just wind.
There are no signs. Only fools stupid enough to look for them.
“Maybe you’d tell me to forget the Bratva and go find Esme,” I guess bitterly. “Maybe you’d tell me to take back the Bratva and then go in search of Esme.”
But I can only guess.
I remember the time he’d told me about the girl he’d left behind in Ireland.
The girl he’d sacrificed everything for.
Would he give it all up to be with her?
It kills me that I don’t have the answer.
The mutt settles down next to me and places his head on my knee. I rest my hand on his head and take a deep breath.
“It’s time to be honest with myself,” I say out loud. Like I’m testing the possibility before I commit to it.
The mutt looks up at me. I feel the truth that I’ve been hiding behind all these months. The truth I’ve pushed back behind a rigorous training regimen, bottles of whiskey, and a lot of pent-up anger.
“I have to take back the Bratva,” I announce. “And I have to find Esme.”
It feels right. Both of them.
One can’t exist without the other.
The mutt looks at me with big clear eyes. Ignorant to what is to come. Thankfully, he won’t be around for any of it.
The wind fades away and silence takes over again.
I turn my attention to the creature next to me. “I know I’ve been an asshole since the moment we met,” I tell the dog. “But thanks for sticking around anyway.”
Fuck, I’m actually gonna miss the mangy fucker.
I pet his head slowly and then I get to my feet.
It’s time to stop planning.
It’s time to stop pretending.
It’s time to do what I was meant to do.
I have a mission, and I intend to see it through.
But first…
I need back up.