21. Logan

CHAPTER 21

LOGAN

The gravel crunches beneath the tires of my vehicle as I pull into the shadow of Vlad's mansion. Its towering silhouette is like a silent guardian against the bright morning sky. Sasha's hand hovers near the door handle, eager for escape but hesitant to step out into the uncertainty that waits for us.

"We’ll be fine," I whisper as I throw a glance at him.

He seems so young and so scared all of a sudden and I doubt myself, doubt that what I've done is right, doubt that I'm thinking clearly. A part of me keeps on saying to stop this before it's too late, but another part of me wants nothing more but to hold Sasha in my arms, press his head to my chest, and tell him that it’s all going to work out. Not just us, but the rest of the hell he’s been living in.

Unfortunately, I can’t.

Ivan’s watchful eyes are on us as he walks up to the Land Rover.

"Must use Navigator if you leave this house," he says, materializing beside me with the stealth I didn’t know a big guy like him could have. His words are thick and accented and weighted with assumed accusations. And he’s right. It looks bad that I’ve taken Sasha out in my own vehicle. It’s not bulletproof.

"Right," I manage through gritted teeth, nodding to Ivan while trying to mask the panic in my voice.

At the same time, fear coils in my stomach, big and stifling, at the thought that Vlad might know. Know about the night his little brother and I spent tangled in each other’s arms, know about our secrets whispered between breathless kisses.

Ivan continues to size us up with his sharp as shards of glass stare. Then he turns on his heel, leading us toward the mansion. Sasha is one step ahead, hands in the pockets of his pants, and I imagine they are wrapped into tight fists under the disguise of fabric.

Inside, the doors to Vlad's office swing open, and there he is—a man who commands fear and respect with equal measure. He stands in the center of the room; the same hands-in-pockets pose as Sasha, and the familial resemblance only makes it worse.

"Alexander," Vlad greets in a deceptively calm voice.

"Brother," Sasha replies. There’s tension that lines his frame as he halts to a stop opposite Vlad.

"Care to share where the two of you were all night?" The question slices through the silence, sharp and demanding, as soon as Ivan shuts the door behind us.

"Out." Sasha’s response is clipped and vague.

Vlad’s gaze sweeps over to me. "You took your personal vehicle."

"I thought it’d be wise considering the people who are after Alexander would be looking for your car," I lie as I grapple with the need to protect Sasha from whatever wrath we've stirred.

"You thought?" Vlad echoes, his tone rising like the crescendo of a symphony of rage. "I do not recall giving permission for a joyride, especially not at night. Your car is not bulletproof."

"It won’t happen again," I offer.

"And you?" Vlad turns his wrathful attention to Sasha again. "You know better than to leave the house while I am not in town."

"Are you saying I can’t go out anymore?"

"Not right now."

"I’ve been hearing this ‘not right now’ bullshit my entire life. When can I do what I want then?"

"This is not the time or place for you to be stubborn, bratishka ."

"Don’t you fucking call me that!" Sasha’s voice pitches, grows impatient and uneven and I hate that I can’t take his hand to give him reassurance.

"You weren't here when I needed you," Vlad goes on. "You know better than to be unavailable."

Sasha's fists are out of his pockets now, clenched tightly and visible. A small act of defiance against Vlad’s commands. "I didn't think—" he starts, but Vlad cuts him off.

"You did not think? That’s exactly the problem. You never do," Vlad spits out, his words bullets aimed to wound.

"Fine, it was a mistake. Happy now?"

"Everything about this is a mistake," Vlad hisses, leaning forward with predatory grace. "Your recklessness, your disobedience. If it happens again, consequences will follow."

A silent oath to protect Sasha burns within me, scorching through the fear. But I stand rigid, desperation and resolve hidden under a mask made of stone.

"And you?" Vlad’s attention switches over to me. "Next time you decide to take my brother out for a midnight escapade," he continues with a venomous calm, "consider it your last act of employment."

My pulse hammers in my ears while I remain cold and unyielding. Because being anything more in front of a Solovey is dangerous. Vlad’s threat hits me true, but I swallow down the fury rising in my chest.

Beside me, Sasha's breath hitches, a silent note of panic that only I can hear.

"And you," Vlad shifts his steel eyes onto his brother again, "if you pull another stunt like this, I will send you back to Aunt Irina?"

"Fuck you."

"Tell me something I have not heard," Vlad comes back.

"I’m not going back there."

"Yes, you are if I say you are. Perhaps she is a better family member to take care of you."

"Family, right." Sasha releases a bitter laugh. "Do you even know what it means?"

"Careful," Vlad warns, his voice a low growl.

"Fuck careful!" Sasha explodes. "This thing you call family is all fucked up because of all the bloody lies. Maybe you should start explaining yourself. About Papa. About how he died."

Vlad recoils as if slapped, his facade splintering for a fraction of a second but he puts himself together just as fast. "I am not sure what you mean, Alexander."

"Stop fucking lying!"

"You need to think about the words that are going to leave your mouth next."

As if he hasn’t heard the masked threat, Sasha blurts out, "You had him killed, didn’t you?"

Silent, dead, heavy, oppressing silence fills the room.

I feel like a third wheel all of a sudden. I shouldn’t be hearing this, shouldn’t be in the middle of this feud. Yet, here I am. Stuck. Witnessing things I could be killed for.

Finally, Vlad clears his throat and speaks. "You think I had a hand in our father's death?" Every syllable is measured, cautious, almost as if he’s standing on a box of explosives.

"Everyone says so," Sasha spits.

"Enough!" Vlad roars. "You will not disrespect me in my own house ever again while I am trying to keep you alive."

I stand there, caught in the crossfire, my body tensed, ready to leap forward, to shield Sasha from what may come next. But I'm trapped in this role, forced to watch, my loyalty to Vlad warring with the instinct to protect what's mine.

"Get out," Vlad hisses, pointing toward the door. "Both of you."

And that’s the end of this conversation. The conversation I want to forget, to erase this knowledge I’ve obtained from my mind. But I can't. Because Sasha's right.

Everyone says so.

Even the cops.