53. April

53

APRIL

Ever since I saw the third man, I've been pacing like a lion in a cage. Not just because they took my daughter—the thought alone is unbearable—but because of what they're using her to do. Who they're using her to get.

Which is why I have to warn him.

Matvey will never see it coming. I have to get to him before they do—before they manage to blindside him. This conspiracy runs so deep, he'll have no idea what hit him.

Not until it's too late.

Think. I force myself to breathe, to calm down my body and mind. Right now, I can't afford to lose my head. I need to focus, to find a way out of this.

For my family.

So I think. I take in my surroundings. The cell isn't too small, but there's nothing in it. Certainly nowhere to hide. It's a smart move on their part, I'll give them that.

That just means I have to be smarter.

What can I use? I rack my brain to find something, anything I can turn into a tool.

Then my eyes meet my guard's.

A young man, no older than eighteen. Probably a fresh recruit. He's leaning on the opposite wall, stealing glances at me as he plays on his phone, engrossed in some kind of game. I can tell he's nervous: the way his gaze darts between me and the screen gives it all away. It's also clear that he's bored out of his mind, but that he doesn't want to mess this up. Maybe it's even his first assignment.

Too fucking bad.

"AHH, IT HURTS!"

I throw myself down to the floor and curl into a ball. I keep my eyes shut, pointedly ignoring any reaction, because I know it'll give me away. I only get one shot at this—better make it count.

Three, two, one…

"M-Miss?"

Bingo.

"Help," I croak. "M-My stomach… It hurts so much."

He rushes over, fumbling with the keys. I crack one eye open and see a full-blown battle on his face: the urge to obey fighting against the fear of letting me die. Who knows what they might do to him then?

"Where does it hurt?" he asks, one hand on the keys, the other on the bars.

"Low," I grunt. "I think it might be my appendix. Oh, God, what if it burst?"

"It can do that?!"

Jesus, where do they get these people? "Yeah, it can do that. Please, just… help me check."

Conflict flashes across the man's face again, so I cry out again, squeezing my eyes against the imaginary pain.

Then I hear it: the keys, jingling against the iron lock.

Gotcha.

The guard kneels by my side. "H-How do I check? How— fuck ?—"

"Don't panic," I tell him. The irony's almost too much: here I am, hand-holding the guy I'm about to screw over through a completely fake medical emergency. Not exactly Girl Scout behavior. "Just feel around here. Press a little. I can't do it myself; I'm too scared."

"Okay, um…" He lays me down on the floor, then flushes bright red. "H-Here?"

"Bit higher, thanks."

"Sorry."

As he cops a feel and then some, I keep my eyes from rolling to the back of my head and sneak my hand into his back pocket.

God, I bet this looks so bad. "L-Like this?"

"Harder."

I close my fingers around something smooth and flat.

There.

I slide it into my sleeve, then pull myself back up. "Actually, you know what? I feel better now. It's probably just my period coming."

The guy's face blanches. "R-Right. I'm just gonna, uhh…"

He slinks out, still looking queasy. Gee, isn't this kid supposed to be mafia or something? I watch him lock the door and put at least ten feet between us. I almost feel bad—did I scar him that much?

Oh, well. Whatever. He shouldn't have sided with the man who took my daughter.

Before he can notice something's missing, I jump to the next part of my plan. "Listen, could you do me a favor?"

"A favor?"

"I'm really thirsty. Could I have a glass of water?"

The guard looks around uneasily. "I'm really not supposed to leave."

"I understand. It's your— cough —job. Sorry, I shouldn't— COUGH —have asked, I…"

"Okay, okay, look," he breaks eventually, "I'll do it. But you stay right there, you hear me?"

I join my hands in a prayer position, his phone squeezed between my hands. I kneel, too, thighs pressed together to hide the part that sticks out. "Of course. I won't move an inch." Then I give him my best puppy-dog eyes.

Satisfied, the guard leaves the room. The second he's gone, I slip out the phone and dial.

Time to save my future husband.

He doesn't answer right away. I listen to the call ring out, head bowed, phone hidden in my hands. For a second, I feel like I'm really praying.

Pick up. Please, pick up.

Please, please, please…

"You have five seconds to tell me who you are, how you got this number, and why I shouldn't have you killed."

"Only five seconds for all that?"

"April," he rasps. "You're okay."

"Kind of?" I whisper back. "I'm in mafia jail."

"In what?" he asks. "Wait—how are you calling me? Where are they keeping you?"

"We don't have time," I cut in. "Matvey, it's Yuri. He's the mole. He's working with Carmine, and they…" I swallow. "They have our daughter."

"I know," he grits. "I swear to you, April, I won't let anyone harm either of you. Not Carmine, and not… Not Yuri," he spits, full of disdain. But I can hear other feelings buried underneath: shock, hurt, betrayal. Sometimes, even the pakhan of the Groza Bratva has no choice but to be human. "He'll pay for what he's done. Grisha's gathering the vory as we speak."

I freeze. "He's what? No, Matvey, you can't."

"Can't what?"

"Don't let him gather the vory . Yuri and Carmine aren't working alone. Someone else is in on it! It's?—"

I manage to blurt out my warning. By a split-second, but I manage.

Then my cage bursts open.

Yuri's face is a mask of fury as he strides towards me. He yanks the phone out of my grip, not fooled for a second by my efforts to mask it, and throws it violently on the floor. Then, for good measure, he crushes it with his heel.

"I told you not to let her out of your sight," he barks at the returning guard.

"I—" he babbles, but Yuri cuts him off.

"Give me that." Without mercy, he swipes the glass of water from his hands. "I take it you were going to use this as a weapon?"

Dammit. Right on the freaking money. "Yuri, please, let's talk."

"No."

He hurls the glass at the opposite wall, missing the guard by a hair's breadth. It shatters, sending shards flying. "B-Boss, I'm sorry! I didn't mean?—"

"I don't give a shit," he snarls. "You had your orders. You chose to ignore them."

"She's sick! She asked for water, she?—"

"She's dangerous !" he roars back. "She's ten times smarter than you. Maybe more. So when I say, ‘Don't go anywhere near her,' it's for a good fucking reason."

Then he takes out his gun.

"Stop!" I cry out. "He didn't do anything, it was me! I tricked him!"

"I know," he replies, voice icy. "And if you so much as think of trying anything else, I won't punish you—I'll punish him. "

"Why?" I start sobbing. "Why are you doing all this? We're family, aren't we?"

"Family?" another voice laughs. "I'm afraid not."

Carmine.

He steps out of the shadows, again, one hand landing on Yuri's raised arm. "He has his mother's eyes; did you know that? Of course, he couldn't have mine. After all, when I met Irina… Well, she already had a son."

My head's spinning. This can't be real. Because if it is, then that would imply…

"You're lying," I murmur. "He's lying, Yuri. Don't listen to him, don't?—"

"He's not," Yuri cuts in. "I verified it myself. Carmine's not my father. Which means that Matvey isn't…" He clenches his teeth, like it's painful to say it. Like it's painful to even think it. "We were never really family, April. Not me and you, and not… me and him. Never."

"You're wrong."

He frowns. "What?"

"You're wrong," I repeat. I don't care how badly my voice is shaking—I will say it as many times as he needs to hear it. Until my last goddamn breath. "You may not be related, but you're still family. All this time, you've been family. You think that just goes away? You think it doesn't matter?"

For a second, he hesitates.

But that's all it is—a second.

"It doesn't," he rasps. "Not to him. Because I'm not blood."

My heart breaks for him. For both of them, two brothers on opposite sides of a war. "Have you tried asking him that?"

"I don't need to. He's made it clear over and over."

"He's changed," I whisper. "He isn't the same person he was."

"He's changed for you ," he replies, voice hoarse. "He will never change for me."

He puts the gun away, turns on his heel, and disappears in the tunnel.

"Too bad you couldn't talk him out of it," Carmine remarks as soon as he's gone. "I guess that son of mine did too much damage. All that talk of ‘blood.' Obsessive, wouldn't you agree?"

"Only because of you."

"Maybe. But now, I have his blood. And once I'm done with him, I'll make sure to wipe away every trace."

My heart drops. "You'd hurt our daughter?"

"Oh, no, sweetheart. She won't feel a thing." He gives me a cruel, sinister smile, all shark teeth and broken promises. "And neither will you."