Chapter 40

Chapter 39

Luka

"BLURP!"

The gurgling noise is loud enough to be heard around the room. And it's a sound that's coming from Yulia's belly. I watch as she successfully annihilates her second bowl of macaroni. Finally, she sits back, licking her lips and patting her full stomach.

Sophia can't hide the grin tugging at her lips. "Your sister's got quite the appetite, Luka."

I laugh back, nodding at the observation. "You've no idea."

Yulia is now trying to sneak a portion to the dog.

"Maly?ka," I say, giving her a pretend stern look, "Don't turn Max into a macaroni junkie."

Yulia raises her eyebrows, her expression one of pure innocence. "What's wrong with that?"

"Nothing, if Max were a human like us," I retort. "But dogs…they don't digest pasta the same way."

She squints in thought. "Max likes it."

"No doubt," I agree, nodding at the puppy. "But we should stick to dog-friendly stuff next time, yes?"

Max yaps as if throwing in his two cents. Yulia explodes into giggles, and even Sophia joins in. The laughter rings through the lake house, as warm and welcoming as the setting sun outside. As the giggles taper off, silence wraps around us, only broken by the rustle of leaves against the window. I glance at Sophia, whose gaze meets mine with a mixture of curiosity and understanding. But I sense she can tell that there's more to this moment.

I clear my throat, turning my attention to Yulia. "Maly?ka," I begin, "Are you ready to go visit Mama and Papa?"

The room freezes.

Sophia's mouth opens and closes as if trying to find the right words in the sudden stillness. Her eyebrows knit together, the confusion in her face clear as daylight. She was not briefed on this part of our family history.

Yulia's nod is small, her eyes solemn but accepting. I know she understands this part of our routine better than anyone. She's been coming here since she was a toddler, her small hand in mine as we visited Mama's grave.

I stand, shaking off the comfortable lethargy of a heavy lunch. "We have a tradition," I explain to Sophia, my tone gentle. "We usually take a walk post-lunch. Care to join us?"

I run a hand through my hair, frustration rising. "Blyat," I mutter under my breath.

Why the hell did I invite her?

This is our private ritual, our tribute to our parents. What the fuck would prompt me to ask her to join us?

"Luka, hurry up!" Yulia's high-pitched demand snaps me out of my brooding. The dog joins in, and now there's chaos. My sister is on her feet and heading to the door.

"Patience, maly?ka!" I quicken my steps to catch up with them. Sophia rises and tags along.

‘Well, fuck,' I grumble inwardly. My legs have their own agenda today, it seems. Within seconds, I'm walking in stride with Sophia. It's too damn late to turn back now.

I shoot sidelong looks at her as we head along the worn path. The sunshine is glowing off her skin. It's like she's been kissed by an angel or some shit.

Get a grip, Luka.

I'm sounding like a damn poet. But even my inner cynic can't deny the facts – she's a sight to behold.

The path crunches under my boots as we venture further; to our right, the sun catches the waves on the lake. It's an afternoon ripped straight from a storybook – warm but with a light breeze that rustles the surrounding trees and eases the heat. So serene. It's all perfect, too damn perfect, and that doesn't sit right with me.

"Yulia, don't stray too far," Sophia calls out, her voice light, maternal. She keeps a watchful eye on Yulia as the kid romps along the path, picking wildflowers here and there.

"Mama and Papa would love these, don't you think, Max?" Yulia chatters to the dog, who seems to be barking in agreement.

The sight of them, full of joy and laughter, cuts through my hard exterior, drawing light into the darkness that wraps my world. I shake off the unsettling thought, diverting my attention to the nearing hilltop.

"The lunch was fantastic," Sophia begins, her voice a soft lilt that cuts through the silence.

I shrug, my gaze trained on the path ahead. "Yulia seems to think so, too, considering the sound effects."

That gets her to laugh. "And the lake house, it's beautiful," she continues, glancing over her shoulder to where the house is set in the landscape behind us.

"Yeah," I find myself saying. "It was our hideaway. When we were kids… Our parents seemed normal here, you know? Just a regular family." I think about this for a moment as the memories unfold. "My father…" I heave a sigh. "He was always so serious back then. A hard man. Business always came first, no matter what. But here at the lake house, it was different."

Sophia looks at me, her eyes filled with curiosity and something else. Something warm.

"This place is just…a happy space, I guess," I continue, my gaze distant, remembering those simpler times. "When I was a boy, we'd row out to the middle of the lake, just the two of us. He taught me how to fish, how to row… No business talk. No violence. Just a father and his son."

Sophia nods, a faraway look in her eyes. "My dad. He… He always made time for us. He called me his little princess." Her voice breaks a little, tears welling up.

For a moment, I'm at a loss. Her vulnerability knocks the wind from my sails. I've always seen Sophia as bold, defiant. Seeing her like this, torn by her past, just as I often am…it does things to me. I want to hold her.

What the fuck? This isn't me.

I'm not the comforting type. But, for some reason, with Sophia, it feels different. It feels… Like I am in fucking trouble.

A distant splash jerks my attention. I whip around, expecting Yulia to be the culprit. Instead, I find Max soaked to the bone, looking like a drowned rat after leaping into the lake.

"Max!" Yulia squeals, laughing as the wet puppy shakes vigorously, spraying water all over her.

I shake my head, grinning. "That dog's got more guts than brains."

Sophia laughs, but then it fades as she turns back to me. "So, um…do your parents live here, Luka?"

Live?

Of course. I haven't explained anything. I stop walking and point to the hill not far from us. "They're right up there."

Her eyes trace the line from my outstretched arm, moving up the incline of the hill to rest upon the twin structures near a tall tree. She sucks in a breath as she sees it.

I feel like a dick all of a sudden. I could have said something before we got here. But it's just so fucking hard.

"Are those…?" she begins, but she doesn't need to finish the question. I can see the realization dawning on her face. The gravestones are impossible to miss – grand structures crafted from blocks of granite and marble, paying tribute to the life and power of my parents.

It's a lavish spectacle of an underworld life led in opulence. The life-size statues show them in their prime, two towering figures, a symbol of the wealth and prestige they once held. Both depicted far too young, victims of a ruthless world they helped mold. And now it's their legacy I bear, whether I choose to or not.

"Da," I say quietly. "That's them."