Chapter 15

Audrey

T he Landon Hotel is a beautiful place, one of the better establishments on this side of Chicago. It's on a busy street but with plenty of security cameras and a side door for guests who prefer more privacy. I will make good use of it whenever I go in and out of the building.

I check myself in under an assumed name. I'd secured a fake identity when I first moved to Chicago in case I might need it one day, and I intend to stay here until I sell my apartment. In the meantime, I'll have to send for my clothes and belongings.

I know I need to tell Jason the truth. I keep coaxing myself into it, and just when I'm about to reach for the phone and call him, some part of me manages to pull away from doing it, keeping me anchored in fear and uncertainty instead.

Staying silent has become my comfort zone because telling the truth would bring too much dis comfort. It's messy enough as it is, and frankly, I lack the courage.

Sighing heavily, I look both ways as I cross the street and dip into the side alley. My heart starts racing as I constantly glance around, worried I might've caught a tail. I was careful, though. As soon as I left the school, I switched cabs twice and used another subway station aside from my usual one in order to get back to the hotel.

Nobody appears to be following me. Just the everyday stream of people making their way up and down the busy street, eager to shop and see the sights that Chicago has to offer. It's a tourist-dense area, which serves me well, seeing as I currently require anonymity.

Once I'm inside, I pass by the ritzy reception desk to check if anyone has left a message for me. I'm not expecting anything, and I still have the same cell number. Jason knows where to reach me, as do my coworkers and Mrs. Ashel. The potential message I'm curious about is to make sure no one else has figured out that I'm here.

"Nothing for you today, Miss Delaware," the receptionist says.

"Thank you, David."

I smile at him and hit the elevator before other guests can beat me to it. I try to keep away from people, in general. While I'm not exactly an introvert, I have found peace in this strategy, especially while I'm trying to hide from Abramovic assassins.

A million thoughts bolt through my head as I listen to the smooth, jazzy elevator music, my mind wandering every which way. I keep going back to Jason, to his demand for the truth, and my inability to give that to him. It's cowardice, that's what it is, and it needs to stop.

By the time I reach my floor, I am practically berating myself, phone in hand. Maybe this time, I'll hit the call button and just spill the beans, including the one about the baby.

I owe him that and so much more. God, I miss him. I hate being away from him. We're still texting, but we can both tell it's not what it used to be. The spark isn't gone— my body cries out for him every damn night. But the tension between us is spoiling everything.

When I approach my hotel room, I see someone standing outside the door.

I freeze in the middle of the hallway, bathed in a golden light from the ceiling-mounted, smoked glass and bronze fixtures, staring at the man. I recognize myself in his cold, blue eyes and curly blonde hair.

Anton is dressed in a tailored navy blue suit, which brings out his best features.

"Little sister," he says, beaming like the sun as soon as he recognizes me. A broad, almost charming grin slits across his handsome, boyish face. "You look wonderful!"

"Anton. What the hell are you doing here? How did you find me?" I manage, my voice trembling. I don't know whether to be impressed or terrified.

"I'm resourceful, remember?" he chuckles softly and takes a step in my direction.

Instinctively, I move back. "Hold on. How did you find me?" I repeat.

"Audrey, when are you going to understand that I will always know where you are?"

"Ah, shit, you tracked my cell signal, didn't you?"

Anton measures me from head to toe. His blue eyes are reduced to inquisitive slits as they shift focus, inch by inch. I feel like I'm stuck inside an X-ray machine, unable to move. "I've always known where you were, little sister," he says. "But don't worry, we didn't tell Papa."

"We?"

"Vitaly and me. You didn't think I'd keep our big brother out of the loop, did you?"

I exhale sharply, pinching the slender bridge of my nose with moderate frustration. "I swear to God, I never understand anything with you two. So, you knew where to find me this whole time?"

"154 Maple Street, Emerald Residence. Apartment 230," he says with a confident cockiness. "Before that, 23 Sudds Drive. Rental. Before that, the Madison Inn, 45 East Street. That one was smart, I'll give you that. Papa would've never thought to look for you at a motel like that."

I stayed at the Madison when I first got to Chicago. I looked for the cheapest motel on the nastier side of town to keep my head down for a while and wait for the Fedorov storm to pass. "How'd you track me to Chicago, though?" I ask, still rather confused. "I switched Greyhounds like five times."

"Audrey. Vitaly and I taught you how to disappear without a trace," Anton replies, almost laughing. "Why would we teach you that if we didn't know how to track you ourselves? I knew you were thinking about running away from New York. I knew it as soon as Papa mentioned Piotr and the arrangement he proposed."

Piotr. That's a name I'd hoped I would never hear again. It causes a feeling of disgust to form in the back of my throat. It's a hard name to swallow, and I shudder as I try to push the image of him out of my head. He still gives me the creeps.

"I've kept my distance this whole time," Anton says, pursing his lips for a moment. "I am only here because you summoned me."

It's too late to un-summon him; that much is obvious. Every statement my slightly sociopathic brother has made up to this point only proves that I will never truly get away from my family.

He has always known where to find me, yet he chose to keep this from our father. I don't know how far I can trust him or Vitaly, for that matter. Our father has a way of sinking his teeth deep into his sons, deep enough to indoctrinate them, to brainwash them into being his perfect little soldiers.

That never worked with me.

I wonder how far in Anton and Vitaly have gotten with the Bratva in the years that I've been away. Do I even wish to find out? I should be feeling relief at this moment. I called for help. Help is here. So why am I so wary?

Because I know who I'm dealing with.

My brothers have always been slightly milder versions of our father, though both can be just as ruthless when the situation demands it. To my relief, they've also always had a major soft spot for me, their little sister. Even when Papa tried to marry me off to Piotr—his business partner, Bratva lieutenant, and a man old enough to be my grandfather—Anton and Vitaly understood that it wasn't what I wanted.

They worked hard to convince our father not to go ahead with the arranged marriage. They failed, and I had no choice but to run away before Piotr could put a ring on my finger. To their credit, they left me alone with my illusion of safety until I reached out to them in desperation.

"You've always known where I was," I mutter as a waiter brings us tea and biscuits.

We are sitting at one of the more private tables of the hotel's tearoom, out of sight and well out of earshot, under a dim, amber light. Anton waits until it's just the two of us again before he answers, casually adding four sugar cubes to his cup. It's a miracle he hasn't developed diabetes.

"Yes," he confirms.

"But you never came after me."

"I must know where you are and to make sure that you are safe and happy. You were safe and happy in Chicago, so I didn't see any reason for me to spoil that," Anton replies, his eyes searching my face. "There's something different about you."

"Oh, you mean the daily terror I now carry after the Abramovic Bratva tried to kidnap me?" I shoot back, my brow furrowed with discontent.

"Audrey, I swear, we had no idea they found you," he sighs deeply. "Had we known, rest assured, they never would've gotten close enough to lay a hand on you."

"Does Papa know I'm here?"

He shakes his head. "I told you. No. Not yet anyway."

"Not yet?"

"That depends on how you behave going forward," Anton chuckles again, and it's the snickering tone that gets to me every damn time. I never know what side of Anton I'm getting. Never. One minute, he's the calm and protective brother, and then the next, he turns into this heartless sociopath who blackmails and manipulates people—Vitaly and me included—until his bidding is done. "We're going to have to figure something out, little sister, because the Abramovic Bratva is not to be messed with."

"Yeah, I know they're not to be messed with," I hiss. "They want to destroy our family. If I remember correctly, they've always had ambitions of moving and taking over New York."

"That's right, and Papa and Grandpapa before him have repeatedly stopped them."

"If they get to me—"

"They won't."

"But if they do, they'll use me to force Papa and the whole operation out of New York, won't they?" I ask.

Anton thinks about it for a moment, quietly stirring his tea while I take a long sip of mine. I welcome the jasmine and honey flowing down my throat and filling my stomach. An assortment of macarons and jam biscuits is beautifully arranged on a porcelain plate between us, and I'm so hungry all of a sudden I could eat the whole table. My brother watches me with subtle amusement while I stuff my face and wash it all down with more tea.

"Or they'll force him to give them a generous cut of his operations," he finally says. "No, there's something else that's different about you. What is it?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," I reply a little too quickly.

"You're a terrible liar."

Yeah, Jason said the same thing .

"Anton, what am I going to do? I can't go back to New York."

"I wouldn't want you back there anyway. Piotr put a price on your head."

"Wait, what?" I gasp, breaking into a sudden cold sweat.

"Ah, I know what it is. You're in love," Anton says, changing the subject quickly enough to throw me off my game. "I have seen that look before. Vitaly used to glow like that when he was shacking up with Serena."

"Hold on, he's not with Serena anymore?"

Anton lets another heavy sigh roll from his chest. "No. They called the wedding off not long after you left."

"Why?"

"Serena wanted a life outside the Bratva. Vitaly is the Bratva. I guess you emboldened her, and since she never had any ties to any of the Russian families, it was easier for her to just return the ring and call the wedding off."

"What did our father say?"

Anton laughs lightly, eyes twinkling as he remembers what I assume was a funny scene, at least funny to him. "Oh, he was pissed off and then some. I told Serena to move out of the city for a while. Her family had properties in Chappaqua, so she took a job there."

"Is she okay?"

"Yes. I think she'll move back to New York at some point. Vitaly keeps better track of her."

"All right, so Piotr put a price on my head," I say, determined to better understand the kind of mess I've unknowingly gotten myself into. My brother nods once. "Why? It's not like we announced an engagement or anything."

"His pride, Audrey."

"And what did Papa think about it?"

Anton lowers his gaze for a moment. "He tried to talk some sense into Piotr. He keeps trying, for that matter. Every month, he takes the old geezer out for a round of golf. He keeps sending him expensive gifts. We believe Piotr will give up on this nonsense sooner or later."

"So, he's fine with it," I scoff, crossing my arms. "The man is actively trying to kill his only daughter, and Papa takes him out golfing."

"It's more complicated than that, Audrey. And you know it."

"Not really, Anton. It's actually pretty simple. Family before everything. Does our father think I put him in a precarious situation with his business partners when I left?"

My brother nods once, a flicker of amusement lingering in his cold, blue eyes.

"But he didn't think Piotr put him in a precarious situation when he put a price on my head. What the fuck?" I say.

"I'll admit, pride can often get the better of Papa. But we both know he will welcome you with open arms should you return."

"And we both know I will never do that. And apparently, I can't."

"I know," he sighs deeply. "Listen, Audrey, I know it's complicated and it's infuriating, but he had plans for you. He still has plans for you. That's why I want you to stay away. But you can't stay here, either, with the Abramovics knowing where you are."

"I am ready to move to another city if I have to. I'd rather stay here with the people I'm genuinely fond of, though. Anton, I didn't call you here so you could rescue me. I called you here so you can help me get rid of the Abramovic people."

Anton runs a hand through his hair, then pours himself another cup of tea, taking a moment to taste one of the pistachio cream cakes while I watch in heavy silence.

"I can't fight the whole clan for you. I can't go to war with them without dragging Papa into it. And if there's one thing we've steered clear of until now, it's precisely this—going into the others' turf. You, on the other hand, should've picked a different city to live in."

"Oh, I'm sorry, Anton. I forgot to check my Russian mob app to see which city in the whole United States of America I could move to without crossing an Ivan or a Sergei," I almost laugh at the ridiculousness of his statement.

"You're a Fedorov, Audrey, whether you like it or not. Whether you use a fake ID or your own identity, you're still a Fedorov. You were born one, and you will die one. That is never going to change, and it's about time you accept that. It doesn't matter that you're not active in the Bratva; you are still a member of the family, and that makes you a valuable asset. That's why Abramovic is after you. He wants to muscle his way back into New York, and you just happened to come into his city. I can't blame him for trying."

"Thanks for the pep talk."

"I'm trying to help you."

I'm baffled. "How exactly? I just need you to reach out to those pricks and ask them to back off. Propose a deal or something. Give them a warehouse area by the pier or some neighborhood in the Bronx. Pay them off. We've got cash to spare."

"The best I can do is give you your own security detail until you figure out where you're going to move next," Anton says, lowering his gaze for a moment. "I'm not all-powerful, Audrey. I'm not even first in line for the throne. If Vitaly finds out I spoke to you, he'll hand my ass back to me, and then our father will do worse. Appreciate that I came all this way in the first place."

I can't help but feel sorry for my brothers. They were born into this, just like me. Except, unlike me, they would've never considered running away because the Bratva gives them a sense of belonging, especially since our mother died. They couldn't leave our father on his own. And someone needed to protect me as well. There's much more responsibility and expected loyalty from the males.

I ran off, and they were left behind to pick up the pieces. And our father can be so mean, cruel, and unforgiving. I'm sure they suffered tremendously in my absence. I'm certain he punished them for not keeping a close enough eye on me.

To this day, I still suspect that Anton and Vitaly chose to look the other way while I made plans and implemented them in order to escape from New York. I doubt they will ever admit it, but the mere fact that Anton is here without the whole family in tow to drag me back with them sort of confirms my suspicion.

"I'm sorry, Anton," I say after a long silence. "I'm sorry I ran away without telling you or Vitaly anything. And I'm sorry that I haven't reached out before now and that I left you behind."

"You did what you felt was best for you. I can't hold that against you, little sister."

"But still, I'm sorry. And I'm sorry for asking you to fix this mess, too. I know it's not fair. I just didn't know who else to call."

"What about Jason Winchester?"

I felt my face drop. "What?"

My blood runs icy cold. I'm paralyzed in my seat, staring at Anton as though he were the devil himself. He knows about Jason. If he's known where I've been this whole time, along with every other place I've lived, of course he would know about Jason, too.

"Are you two serious?" Anton asks, half-smiling.

"I'm in love with him. Please, don't hurt him. Leave him alone, Anton."

"As long as he doesn't hurt you, Audrey, he's safe," he says. "From what I've read, he's quite accomplished. I'll give you credit there; you picked a fine one. Does he know?"

"Know what?"

"About your heritage. About that baby you're carrying. I presume it's his."

A gasp escapes from the back of my throat as I glower at Anton with all the outrage I can muster. "How dare you?" I hiss, leaning forward to make sure no one else hears me. "How dare you violate my privacy like that?"

"If there's one thing you seem to have forgotten about me, it's this: Your safety and well-being will always be my business, mine and Vitaly's, no matter where you go or who you're with," Anton calmly replies. "The minute you sent me that message, warning me about the Abramovic Bratva, I made it my mission to find out everything there is to know regarding your new life because everything can be eventually used against you. Do you have any idea how much worse it's going to get for you if Abramovic finds out you're pregnant?"

"No."

"He will turn the city upside down. He will kill anyone who stands in his way, including your precious Jason Winchester and his cute little daughter," Anton says. "You are already valuable purely on account of your last name. Rumor has it that Abramovic is dead set on conquering New York, and we're standing in his way. Having you under his nose is like a gift. That maniac will stop at nothing until he gets what he wants. And if Papa finds out that you're pregnant—"

"You will keep your mouth shut!"

"Pipe down," Anton hushes me. "I said if . I'm not going to be the one to tell him, so relax. But if I was able to find out, he will, too. And when he does figure it out, Audrey, there won't be a fucking pebble left on this earth for you to hide under. You may think he's putting his family second, but that couldn't be further from the truth. He will crush anyone who threatens any of us—"

"What about Piotr?"

Anton waves that concern away with a mere flick of his wrist. "Oh, forget about that old fool. He's just throwing a tantrum. He'll come back around eventually."

"Does our father know about the Abramovic Bratva's attempt to take me?" I ask, my voice trembling slightly.

"Not yet. We don't have that many eyes and ears in Chicago. We will from now on, though, because I'll see to it."

Minutes pass in eerie silence as Anton and I seem to have reached some sort of arrangement. It may be unspoken, but I find comfort in knowing that he's got my back in the only way that he can, given the circumstances.

Being a Bratva lieutenant and having our father's trust gives him freedom of movement and expenditures without anyone second-guessing him, which is why Anton can afford to give me his security detail.

I wish he could do more, but it was a long shot to begin with. Even so, it's better than nothing. At least I'll have trained professionals who are familiar with the Bratva's tactics to watch my back while I sell my apartment and prepare to start a new life somewhere else.

"Does he know?" Anton asks me the question again.

"Huh?"

"Winchester. Does he know about your pregnancy?"

"He doesn't know, and I would appreciate it if it stayed that way," I sigh. "I have to leave Chicago under these conditions. I can't just drop the bomb and then never be seen again. It would destroy Jason."

"It's not fair to him, either way, but I guess it makes sense."

"What he doesn't know can't hurt him. It only hurts me, Anton."

Anton chuckles softly. "I wish we'd been born into a different family; I really do. I would've liked to have had some Ivy League friends and to have been able to enjoy a nice gin negroni on a Friday night with you and Vitaly, but alas, it wasn't meant to be. We were raised by wolves, and we live as wolves. I hope you understand that now. You're a lone wolf, Audrey. You won't make it far without your pack."

"Don't rub it in."

"But it's the truth. It's your reality, can't you see? You left New York thinking that you'd be able to live a white-picket-fence life with a husband and two kids, that you'd teach kindergarten for the rest of your days, and possibly take up gardening when you retire. Come on, Audrey. That is not what we were made for."

"We decide what we were made for," I insist. "Just because you got comfortable being Daddy's good little soldier like Vitaly doesn't mean I had to fall in line, too. There's more to life than what he planned for us. Hell, our lives were never his to plan in the first place."

"You're going to be a single mother," Anton reminds me.

Oh, God, that sounds awful. I don't want that. I want Jason. I want to be with him, to spend every single day with him. To watch Lily and our own child grow up together and become better people than all of us combined. I want us to gather the sweetest memories so that we'll have quite the story to tell in the sunset of our lives. This is not fair; it's not right. Tears prick my eyes. I try to blink them back, but I fail miserably, so Anton gives me a tissue.

"No matter what you decide, Audrey, I will always have your back," he adds. "It may not always seem like it, but I love you. I can't always protect you from your own choices, though, especially since I still have my own ass to cover."

"I don't want to put you in an impossible situation," I say, shaking my head slowly. "The security detail sounds good until I decide what I'm going to do next."

"Perhaps you could take Jason with you. The girl. The nanny."

I chuckle dryly. "You make it sound so simple."

"It is that simple when you truly love someone."

The way he says it makes me stare at him for a while. His expression shifts from sadness to a kind of longing that feels all too familiar. I think he may have feelings for someone and difficult decisions to make himself. Anton never struck me as the type who would ever fall in love, but then again, when lightning strikes, it burns through everything.

"Jason doesn't even know my true last name," I concede with a heavy, guilty heart. "He thinks my name is Audrey Smith."

"I saw a copy of that fake ID of yours. Excellent work. Did you pay Evgeni for it?"

I can't help but smile. "You can tell?"

"I'd recognize his graphic skills anywhere. Besides, it makes sense that you'd go to the best guy for that sort of job. I would've done the same if I wanted a new, pristine, and ironclad identity." His humor fades as he glances somewhere behind me. "Audrey, I thought you said no one else knows what hotel you're staying at."

"No one else does."

"Then why is your boyfriend walking in and looking at me like he's about to rip my spine out through my mouth?" Anton shoots back and instantly stiffens in his seat.

I get up and turn around just in time to see Jason stalking across the tearoom with a furious look in his eyes.

"Jason," I mumble as he reaches us.

"Would you mind telling me what the fuck is going on here?" Jason says, his voice low and dripping with insurmountable fury. It sends shivers down my spine and an ache soaring through my ribcage as I find myself stuck between a rock and a hard place. "Who's this?" he nods back at Anton.

"Jason, please, calm down. We can discuss this—" I try to reason with him, but my brother speaks up, standing to shake his hand and cutting me off in the process.

"Forgive my sister's manners, Mr. Winchester. I'm Anton, Audrey's brother."

And that's all it takes to bring Jason to a sudden halt. His eyes become blank, devoid of any reaction. His lips press into a thin line while a frown pulls his brows close together. He's stunned. Speechless. Even more confused than when he first walked in. And I've no doubt he's got a lot of questions.