“I’m not sure about anything,” I tell him honestly. “I’ve been here for days, unconscious and then stuck in this bed while I heal. I’ve barely been able to get up to take a shit.”
“The man who was hunting for you in regards to what you did to avenge your brother is dead,” Viktor says tiredly. “I saw proof of it myself. That should have been the end of it, but it’s clear that it’s not.”
“Not with Edo out for my life, after what happened to Adriana. And now, since Art likely presumes I’m dead, he’ll be taking steps to take over the estate.”
“Do you think he has Sasha?”
“I wish I knew,” I tell Viktor fervently. “If she’s alive, there’s a chance. He took an interest in her, and also in taking what was ‘mine’, which he’d see her as. If he thinks he can hurt me from beyond the grave by hurting her, he’ll do it. He certainly won’t try to find me or help me. I’m sure he’s glad that I’m dead.”
“There’s no chance of getting help from Edo Casciani or any of the other families,” Viktor says thoughtfully, rubbing a hand over his mouth. “Any chance of an old-world alliance is gone now. There might even be blowback against Luca for this.” He lets out a long sigh. “I’m not going to abandon you, Max. I will do everything I can to protect you and Sasha. But publicly, I’m going to have to distance myself for some time. I hope you can understand that.”
“I know how this works. If Edo knew I was still alive, he’d finish the job. Luca and his family, and you and yours, shouldn’t suffer for this. Caterina and the children, especially, need to be kept safe–” I shake my head, feeling the weight of all of it settle over my shoulders.
“I’m sorry, Viktor,” I say finally. “I’m sorry to have brought all of this to your doorstep.”
“Don’t be,” Viktor says flatly. “I knew the risks when I gave you my protection, Max. And you still have it–just not as publicly as before.”
He pauses for a moment. “Take the time you need to get well and mobile again. I’ll do what I can to see if I can find Sasha’s whereabouts, and we’ll go from there. But Max–”
“Yes?” The sudden, darker tone of his voice makes my gut twist.
“You need to prepare yourself that she might be beyond our reach. That she might be dead already–or that she might have been sent to Obelensky. And if that’s happened, Max–”
“Don’t say it.” The knot in my stomach grows tighter, the world narrowing in around me.
“I can’t start a war with Moscow, Max. Not over this, not right now. What I did in changing my businesses was the right thing, but in many ways, the old guard there sees me now as the toothless bear others mocked me as. Obelensky won’t hesitate to try to use this as an excuse to establish a presence here, and make a bid for my territory. I can’t–”
“You can’t risk your family. I know.” I swallow hard, my mouth feeling dry as paper. “I also can’t let Sasha die at the hands of that man. If that’s where she is–I’m going to have to go after her.”
“I know,” Viktor says quietly. “I would do–and have done–the same for Caterina. If there’s a way I can help without risking my family, Max, I will.”
“That’s all I can ask.”
When the call is done, I push myself up with some effort, pulling back the blankets to look at the bandage wrapped around my stomach. There’s faint pink on them still, where the hastily stitched wound has bled a little. Every movement feels like a knife in my gut, and I know that I should be here, healing, for much longer than I’m going to be able to allow.
Whatever Viktor finds, I’m going to have to act on. Whatever that means. And when it’s over, and Sasha is back in my arms, everything is going to change.
I walked away from her once. I thought it was the right choice, that I was giving her freedom and protection, keeping her from a danger so much greater than she understood.
I’d been wrong. I’d only made it worse–and lost everything in the process.
Ignoring the pain, I force myself to swing my legs over the side of the bed, struggling for breath at the sharp, twisting pain. When I feel as if there’s air in my lungs again, I push myself to my feet, gritting my teeth with every burning step as I make my way toward the bathroom.
Once I’m there, I turn on the cold faucet, splashing water over my face. I look paler than usual, thinner, and slightly gaunt in the cheeks. I don’t look capable of saving anyone, much less trekking to Russia to face down a Bratvapakhanto get Sasha out of his clutches.
But I can’t leave her.
I grip the edge of the sink, staring myself down in the mirror. I mentally recount the things I’ve done, the ways I’ve failed, and the mistakes I’ve made.Bloody hands, bloody man.
I’d tried all my life not to be that, not to be what my father was, what Edo is, what all the powerful men surrounding me have been.
It’s clear now that there’s no escaping it. I am what I am, what I was born to be, and if the years I spent outside of it changed me at all, I hope it’s that it gave me a conscience about the things I have to do, that it made me a man whowantsto be good, to do right.
But I can’t let it weaken me any longer.
The clothes I’d been wearing the night of the party are long gone, replaced by a series of sweatpants I’ve been borrowing. I have hardly anything of my own left, but as I walk back to the bed, I catch sight of the rosary that had been in my pocket lying coiled on the side table, likely rescued by Giana.
I pick the worn black beads up, rolling them between my fingers. I know the pattern by heart, the words without thinking about them. They’re a part of me, the life I tried to live, the man I tried to be, the sacrifices I made to be something other than what I should have been. I’d taken Art’s place, but it had been my own escape, in a way.