4. Natalya

Chapter 4

Natalya

M y father’s house looks all wrong.

It’s a beautiful townhouse in the Old City area. I grew up on these streets, and I have a thousand memories of wandering around with my friends, getting into trouble, living my life and having fun.

Except nothing seems right, or maybe I’m not right anymore.

I should feel happy. I’m finally home after a long, lonely year, and instead I’m completely numb. The car pulls up out front and Alex drops me off, but he doesn’t say anything as I get out and head inside. I let him carry in my bags.

It’s the least he can do.

Neither of us mentioned what happened again. It’s like that night was a strange dream, and now it’s slowly drifting out of reality.

But if it really was a dream, it was one of the best I’ve ever had.

That’s the really messed up part.

I let myself have something I’ve always wanted, something I knew wouldn’t be good for me, and it was so much better than I ever dreamed.

I should’ve known that was always just one more lie in a very long line of mistruths and abuses.

“Natalya!” The door bursts open and Lev appears on the doorstep. My brother looks like he lost some weight, like he’s harder than I remember. Lev was always the lighthearted one, always quick to laugh and joke and smile. Where Stepan was serious and tough, Lev was gentle and easygoing. We’ve always gotten along really well.

Except for the last year.

He throws his arms around me and hugs me tight. I stand there, not sure what to do, but it feels good to be with him again, and I eventually hug him back.

“We missed you,” he says, his voice muffled. He pulls back, grinning huge. “How was Paris? Was it amazing?”

I stare at him, not sure what to say. In his mind, Stepan’s been dead and buried for months, but in mine, it only just happened, the wound is fresh, my mourning is intense and deep and black.

“It was fine.”

He barks a laugh and drags me inside. “ Fine ? That’s all you got for me? You lived for an entire year in Paris and it was just fine ?”

“I couldn’t really speak French,” I mumble at him, looking around the foyer. Everything is the same. Oil paintings on the walls, family photos along the bannister. My mother smiling, dead before I ever had a chance to now her. My father glaring out from behind his big desk, ten years younger than he is now. Me and my brothers, still little and happy. Stepan, still alive.

“That probably would’ve helped.”

“Lev—“ I start and my words fail me. Tears threaten again. Alex enters behind us and glances in our direction as he wordlessly carries my luggage up into my room.

Lev’s smile fades away. “I know.”

“How? I can’t believe it.”

“I know, Nat, I know.” He looks down at the floor. “It was bad. It was really bad. I was there, and we just—I’m sorry. We couldn’t save him.”

I pull him into a hug. I didn’t know that he’d been there when Stepan was killed, and I can only guess at how much that’s eating at him. Lev hugs me back briefly.

“You should’ve told me,” I say, but a lot of the anger’s fading away. Now that I’m looking close, Lev hasn’t only lost weight. He seems tired, almost gaunt, like something’s draining him from the inside. The pressure of being the oldest is beginning to shape him into something he never wanted. I can only imagine what it’s been like, acting as our father’s heir.

“He made it clear that we weren’t supposed to reach out to you. I should’ve emailed or called or something anyway, but—“ He stops and looks around as if Dad might appear around the corner. “I’m sorry, Nat. I know it’s fucked.”

“I had to find out from him.” I nod at Alex as he comes back down the steps and head out to make another trip.

Lev’s expression is hard to read. “He’s been a big help, you know. He stepped up big time.”

“You have him doing your dirty work.” I punch Lev in the chest lightly. “You sent him out to get me.”

He snorts. “That was Dad’s doing. I volunteered.”

“Yeah, right.”

“What? A free trip to Paris? A few days to fuck around, just so fetch you? That was a fucking plum job, but you should’ve heard the way Alex complained, like we were asking him to cut off his own hands. He even told Dad that he should go out there and tell you about Stepan himself. Dad was pissed, but you know Alex. Speaks his mind, but always does what he’s told.”

I watch as Alex walks through again with my last bag. He avoids looking at us and heads straight upstairs.

“I didn’t know that,” I say, frowning to myself. “He really spoke up to Dad?”

“Oh, yeah, it was a whole thing. But ever since Step died, Alex has been taking on more responsibility around the place, and I think Dad wants him to be more assertive. That’s my guess, anyway.”

Alex comes back downstairs. This time, he pauses near us, and nods at me. “Everything’s up there.”

“Thanks, bro.” Lev gives Alex a fist bump. “And I appreciate you snagging my sister here. I hope it wasn’t too much of an inconvenience.”

Alex stares at me. “Not at all.”

I look back at him, struggling internally. There’s Alex, the man that has always treated me like I’m nothing, that didn’t tell me that my brother’s dead, that dragged me back home even knowing what’s waiting for me.

And there’s Alex, the man that ruined me that night, that man I’ve always had a weird crush on.

He leaves before things get too awkward. I watch him go, wondering if we’ll ever get over this tension between us.

Not that it even matters anymore.

“Come on, Dad’s waiting for you,” Lev says gently and nods toward the hall that leads to his office. “I just want to say that I had nothing to do with this.”

“You never do.” I pinch his arm, but not too hard.

He yelps, grinning, and dances out of my reach. “For what it’s worth, I told him to let you stay in Paris for as long as you wanted.”

“I’m so glad he listened.”

“You know how it goes.” His laughter dies away. “We do our duty.”

I head into my father’s office and leave Lev behind. The interior is brightly lit, the big windows overlooking the back yard letting in a lot of natural light. Floor to ceiling bookshelves are backed with old adventure novels, and I remember sneaking in here as a girl and reading through them voraciously. I really liked the ones with sex and violence, and I felt like I was breaking a ton of rules by looking at them. In retrospect, I’m pretty sure Dad knew what I was doing, but he just didn’t care.

“Natalya,” he says, looking at me from behind his desk. I swear, it’s weird when I see him standing, because he’s almost always sitting back there. He looks older, more drawn and haggard, and I wonder how bad things have been here in my absence.

“Dad.” I sit down across from him and keep my back straight. He was always an asshole about posture. “I’m home.”

“You’re home.” He doesn’t seem happy about that. “How was your vacation? I hope it was very fulfilling.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because I doubt you’ll be taking another trip anytime soon.” His head tilts to the side and his eyes narrow. A spark of fear bubbles in my stomach. “You embarrassed me.”

I know better than to argue. That’ll only make him angrier. I could say, you told me to the pakhan , and that wouldn’t matter. Because in his mind, he did nothing wrong.

Now he’s doing it again.

“I know.”

“You jeopardized our plans.”

“I’m aware.”

“If Valentin hadn’t found his current wife, if that war hadn’t brought everyone together, if I hadn’t proved that I can be a loyal and worthwhile ally—“ His jaw works, and I know he’s really mad. This is the Dad I know very well: right on the edge of boiling over.

“Stepan died,” I say, looking him right in the eye, too sad to really care if it pisses him off even more.

But instead, he deflates slightly. His shoulders slump, and he nods. “Stepan died. His sacrifice was not in vain, however. Valentin Zeitsev saw what we gave to the cause, and he rewarded us with everything we wanted. Now our ties to the Zeitsev organization run deep.”

“Congratulations, Dad. You got everything you wanted.”

He slams his fist down. I flinch back, cringing away.

“I lost my fucking son. Do you think things have been easy here? While you were away playing house in fucking Paris ?”

I shake my head, not looking at him. I feel small again, and I loathe myself, but I can’t help it. Dad has this power.

“I didn’t know,” I say quietly, my voice so tiny it’s pathetic.

“No, you didn’t.” He takes a deep breath and visibly calms himself. “But now you’re home, and you will be useful, Natalya. I gave you a long leash. I let you remain in Paris where you were safe and asked nothing of you. I paid for your life there, and now you will do your duty.”

I tilt my chin up. “You want me to marry the Italian.”

“No, girl, the pakhan and I want you to marry the Italian. This is how we build alliances. This is how we become more powerful than we were before. By marrying him, you make a better world for everyone.”

I nearly laugh at that. A better world? Who is this man kidding? I’d be binding two crime families together and meshing their business prospects tightly together, but that’s not a better world .

“I could run away again,” I say, blurting it out at him.

He barely reacts. “You could, but this time I’ll drag you back.”

“I’m sure Alex would be good at that.” I don’t even know why I mention him, but his name tumbles out before I can stop myself.

“Yes, Natalya, Alex would be good at it, because he knows how to obey orders. He knows how to do the hard thing for the greater good of the family. Unlike you .” Dad stares at me with contempt. “You will marry the Italian in three weeks’ time. You will be a good wife to him, provide him with children, and make a decent life for yourself. You will do this without complaint, or so help me God, I will drag you through the fucking mud and make sure you do it myself. Do you understand me?”

I wish I didn’t. Life would be easier if I could float along blindly accepting everything my father tells me to do.

If only I could be more like Alex.

But what he’s telling me is this: I am currency , and I will accept my place in the world.

We both know I got lucky with Paris. If the pakhan had wanted Dad to bring me home, they would’ve caught me and dragged me back within days of landing in France. Circumstances were what they were, and I stole an entire year of loneliness and depression in a foreign city with only a piano for company.

I’m back to reality now.

“I understand,” I say as the grim truth becomes startlingly clear.

There’s no escape this time.