Chapter 32

Audrey

" L ily, go easy on the ice cream, honey; we still need to make room for dinner," Rita says as she and Jason's sweet, doe-eyed daughter share a chocolate and peanut butter ice cream bowl at one of our favorite cafes near Lily's school.

"It's Friday; cut the kid some slack," Jason chuckles, bringing over a bowl of mint chocolate chip ice cream for me. A smile dances across his lips as he joins us. "How are my three favorite ladies doing?"

"Oh, I'm good," Lily replies most casually, barely even looking at him.

She's too busy adoring a whole scoop of peanut butter ice cream, likely wondering if she can fit the whole thing in her mouth. "I know it seems tempting, Lily," I tell her, trying not to laugh, "but don't forget the brain freeze you got the last time you tried it."

"Yeah, but that was berry shorbet," she says, mispronouncing the word. "This is ice cream. It's different."

"Okay, big girl, give it a go and prove it," Rita chuckles.

It's a beautiful day. One of those perfect late spring days on the greener side of Chicago. Lily's school is strategically positioned close to Armour Park, which means we often stop by for ice cream afterward. It's relatively clear this afternoon, and we get to bask in the sun and hang out without too many people cluttering our view of the fieldhouse. It's nothing fancy, but it evokes a sense of peace that I absolutely cherish.

I love these routines that we've been forming.

Ice cream after school. Friday veggie dinners with Rita and Lily, the four of us talking about our week. Lily wants Jason to move her over to my school, but I'm actually negotiating a move to hers instead. It's a private school with so many opportunities for me to grow as an educator; I just couldn't refuse when Jason first suggested it.

Once a week, I get on Skype with my brothers, and we talk about recent developments. Our father won't talk to me—the old man is still licking his wounds. It'll be a while before he's a decent human being again, but I'm used to it. I don't even mind it as long as I have my life back.

"The news was quite dreary this morning," Rita says at one point.

"What do you mean? I've stopped watching TV since my father went back to New York," I shoot back with a dry chuckle.

But the frown on Jason's forehead has my humor fading quickly. "There's going to be a bit of a turf war between the Fedorov and the Abramovic clans," he says.

"That doesn't make any sense. I thought they were making headway with the negotiations."

"They were, but Arkady's younger brother is trying to stir the pot," he replies. "I doubt it will end well for him. Until then, however, he's kind of hogging the headlines."

"Why didn't Anton or Vitaly tell me anything about it?" I ask, suddenly worried that the routines that I've been building with Jason, Lily, and Rita might go up in smoke after all.

"I think they're trying to keep you out of it," Jason says. "But you don't have to worry about it, Audrey. You are safe."

I shake my head, quick to refuse such a prospect altogether. With trembling fingers, I grab my phone and call Vitaly, putting him on speaker as soon as he picks up. "What's up, little sister?"

"What's this nonsense about a turf war between us and the Abramovic family?" I blurt out. "It's all over the news."

Rita gives me a quick nod and discreetly takes Lily away from the table to give us some privacy.

Jason sits beside me, quietly listening while we bask in the sun. I gladly accept the scoop of mint chocolate chip ice cream he offers.

"Oh, that!" he laughs. "That's nothing. It's just for the media's blitz, I promise."

"Vitaly …" Jason groans in frustration. "What the hell."

My brother chuckles with an almost sadistic delight. "I am so sorry. Anton and I figured it would keep the cops on their toes over there while we start our new businesses in Chicago. I spoke to Arkady's brother, Anatoly, and he was down with it. We put on a show for the newspapers, pretend we're missing a couple of people, threaten one another in public, beef around on Twitter and whatever, just to keep them busy."

"Good grief, Vitaly; I thought the Bratva was supposed to keep a low profile!" I snap.

"That's the old Bratva, sis. The new one has social media accounts and plenty of clout," my brother replies. "The public is loving it. And it's making it all the more confusing for the cops and the Feds. But I promise you, it's not real. You're safe, little sister. I swear."

"I could kill you," I say, shaking my head for the scare they just gave me. "Making me consider watching the news again …"

"You could kill me, but then Anton would take over. Imagine that for a second."

Jason puts on a mock horrified face that Vitaly somehow assumes through the phone. "Yeah, I know. Terrible, right?"

"I hate you," I grumble, though he knows I don't really mean it.

"I never was the lovable type," Vitaly quips. "So! When will I meet my nephew, huh? What did the doctor say? Due date, anything?"

It's just like him to stir trouble and then pretend it's no big deal. I prefer these tiny jitters as opposed to the rains of pure hell that our father used to unleash upon us. Sure, I got startled mere minutes ago, but as my nervous system is soothed again, I begin to see the sense in building the Bratva up in the online world. It's going to be incredibly confusing for the cops and the FBI, and my brother is right about that.

Not knowing what's real, what's fake, what's meant to go viral, and so on.

"I'm still about five months away," I tell Vitaly.

"You'd better name him after me."

Jason laughs. "That's going to be a no."

As the jitters subside and I once again readjust to the calm and tranquility of this new life with my new family, I realize that I need to come to terms with something. I may not be a part of the Bratva anymore, but the Bratva will always be a part of me. I cannot deny its existence, nor my blood ties, but I can tread carefully and make sure I am mentally prepared for whatever happens in the future.

My brothers may or may not survive this new age. The old-school Russians are still calling plenty of shots in New York. Some might perceive this online move as a sign of weakness. I can only pray and hope for the best. Maybe Anton and Vitaly will have nothing but smooth sailing ahead. But if the waters get choppy, I can rest assured that they'll find the best way forward.

"How's Papa?" I ask.

"Just as lousy as the last time you asked me about him," Vitaly answers with a flat tone. "He can't leave the house. I don't trust him yet."

"You can't keep him locked up forever, though," Jason warns him.

"I know, but for now, since he's still being a dick about everything, I have no choice. Once we cement the new businesses and we've got the peace treaties signed with Anatoly Abramovic and vetted by the rest of the Bratva, then I'll let the old wolf out. Until then, he's getting a taste of precisely the bitter medicine he shoved down our sister's throat. See how he likes it."

Vitaly may sound cruel but it does feel like just desserts.

After all the pain he caused, my father deserves a slice of the same torment he gave me. He needs to learn his new place in the family, and my brothers need room to breathe. Each of us is getting used to this new and different chapter in our lives. It is both scary and exciting, but for me, it's also exhilarating.

As I lean into Jason and welcome the warmth of his lips on my temple, I smile to myself, thanking the stars for allowing me to make it this far. Whatever comes next, we've got it handled because we have love and resilience, we have strength, and we have family.