Under different circumstances, I wouldn’t care, but I’m sure Rai is also planning something. For instance, she’s glaring at Kirill as he gets into the car now. And I’m not sure how much longer he can piss her off in meetings before she decides to put his position and all the wins he brought to the organization in jeopardy.
All because of me.
Logically, Kirill has no reason to protect my identity. He could tell her that I’m a woman, and that might get me killed by the Pakhan, but Rai would have nothing to threaten him with anymore.
But he hasn’t.
Why hasn’t he?
“Move it.” Viktor glares at us, forcing me to break eye contact with the situation.
I climb into the passenger seat. It’s now my usual place since I’m forbidden from sitting with Kirill. Viktor, who took that position, would gloat if the man knew how to display normal human emotions.
I’m in the middle of checking my ammunition when my eyes clash with Kirill’s through the rearview mirror, and he’s glaring.
Or I think he is, because the contact only lasts for a fraction of a second before he focuses back on what Viktor is telling him about the club’s numbers this month.
I swallow. What the hell was that for?
“Is there a reason why you’re not putting Rai in her place?” Viktor asks after he’s done discussing the club. “She has the audacity to subtly threaten you at the table with everyone there.”
I go still, but I don’t dare check the rearview mirror or look behind me and, instead, focus on the tall buildings blurring past us.
Even Viktor notices her not-so-subtle animosity. Which means everyone else does, too.
“She’s all bark and no bite,” comes Kirill’s casual reply.
“She didn’t sound like it. Besides, it’s demeaning, Boss. Adrian, Igor, and Damien’s men are asking me and Lipovsky if you’re not able to remove Rai from your path. We don’t know how to answer them.”
“Then don’t,” Kirill says simply. “You don’t owe them anything.”
I’ve been telling them there’s nothing to it, but, of course, they don’t buy it. Especially Vladislav, Damien’s senior guard, and Yan, Adrian’s guard. Yan acts clownish like Maksim, but he’s the best at getting information. And I’m sure he told Adrian that Rai must be threatening Kirill with something.
Shit.
“If Adrian knows…” I trail off when I realize I’m speaking out loud. Silence falls over the car, so I clear my throat and look at Kirill through the rearview mirror. “I’ll try to find out from Yan. We’ve become close.”
Or more like, we’re constantly milking each other for information while pretending to be friends. Neither of us will admit to that fact, and we keep dancing around it in this weird limbo where we’re aware of each other’s intentions but still go with the act anyway.
“You’ll do no such thing,” Kirill orders in his frightening tone.
“But I can do something. If Adrian has any information, you can be in the know.”
“What the fuck did I just say, Lipovsky? Are you defying direct orders?”
“No…sir.” I want to bite my lower lip until it bleeds, but I ball my fists on my lap instead.
Tension grows in the car for a few seconds before Viktor says, “Lipovsky is actually close to Yan, Boss. Let him do his thing and be useful.”
“I said— No. And that’s fucking final.”
This time, no one tries to persuade him. There’s a shift in the air, and the tension swirling around Kirill could be cut with a knife.
The rest of the ride, Viktor talks more about the club, but that doesn’t really kill the unwelcoming atmosphere. Once we arrive at the house, Kirill tells us he has work to do alone.
Pressure grows in my chest and I have to tap it a few times in order to breathe properly.
It’s times like these when I start to question my choices and everything I’ve done since Russia.
I’m so close to giving up, but then he does something like saving me or paying attention to details about me and I go back to my stupid hopeism.
Only for the cycle to begin again.
It’s downright toxic at this point, but I can’t put an end to it.
Sometimes, when it gets to be too much, I try to call my uncle to make sure they’re doing okay, but his phone has been disconnected.
At this point, I’ve been truly cut off from my family, and this place is the closest I’ve ever had to belonging. I’ve found dear friends in Yuri, Maks, Kara, and the others.
Even Viktor’s mountain-like presence feels like an anchor.
Konstantin’s, too. Sometimes, he joins me and Karina for breakfast, but only when Yulia isn’t around.
Kirill always, without fail, glares at us whenever he sees us, and soon after, I get an order that we’re leaving the house.
Still, I don’t want to lose the relationships and the belonging I feel in this place. Kirill might not approve of me, but I can at least do my part to ward off unnecessary enemies.
I wait for Yuri to go back to the annex and make sure Viktor has headed to the gym to torture the others, then I follow Kirill to the office.
Once I’m in front of the door, I take a deep breath, but before I knock, it opens, and he appears at the threshold, tall, big, and downright frightening.
My fist hovers over his chest for a few seconds before I finally come to my senses and drop it.
He crosses his developed arms over his chest, making his shirt stretch over his biceps. “I know what you’re here for and the answer is still no, and mark my words, Lipovsky, if you go behind my back on this, I’ll fire you.”
I purse my lips. “But—”
“No buts. If you’re going to prove your loyalty, you will not disobey my orders.”
“Let me ask you something,” I whisper. “Why didn’t you just expose my real gender and get rid of the threat Rai poses to you? She might have lacked power before, but she has influence now, and she can use it to strip you of all the accomplishments you’ve made.”
“That’s none of your business.”
“Uh…I’m sort of in the middle of the problem, so I think it’s my business.”
“Do as you’re told and stay put.”
“I…can tell her myself.”
“Are you in the mood to fucking die?”
“If it proves my loyalty.”
“Don’t be an idiot.”
“I’m not an idiot.”
“You acting suicidal is the definition of being a fucking idiot. How will you prove your loyalty when you’re dead?”
“You’ll finally know it then and stop treating me like I don’t exist. I’m right here, Kirill. Always beside you, in front of you, and anywhere you want me to be, so why…” I choke on my words. “Why are you erasing me?”
“You know exactly why.”
“Will you ever trust me again? Am I fighting a losing battle?”
“I might consider trusting you if you don’t go trying to get yourself killed. Got it?”
My heart warms, and I think it’ll explode from the sheer pressure his mere words have put on it.
He might trust me.