Nikolai’s eyes fall flat. He turns away from me for a moment before whipping around again fast. “Sobakin is doing the same thing that he did back then. You know why he succeeded? Because he fought his battle from the shadows.”
“Like a coward.”
“He might be, but the bottom line is that he won. So what does it matter how he won?”
I scowl. “It matters to me.”
“It probably mattered to Otets, too. Now, he’s dead.”
I slam my fists against the table and launch up to my feet. “Don’t.”
Nikolai’s eyes burn with fury, but this time, that fury is directed at me. He straightens up, wobbles a few steps back, then takes a deep breath. “It’s your call.”
“That’s right. It’s my fucking call.”
Nikolai sighs and, just like that, he’s my brother again. “How’s Polina doing?”
“She’s fine. She’s a tough kid. But I think she misses us. She wants to spend more time at home.”
“With Sobakin running wild, that might not be the best idea.”
“I’m not gonna tell her she can’t come home, Niko.”
“That’s not what I meant and you know it.”
“Yeah.” I clear my throat. “I know.”
I wonder some days what the dynamic might be for us if we didn’t jump down each other’s throats every chance we got. What would be left if we didn’t have this anger?
“I’m leaving.” Nikolai’s eyes land on the files in front of me. “Get some sleep, will you?”
He turns and leaves without waiting for an answer I was never going to give. Get some sleep? We both know that’s not happening.
42
URI
Sure enough, I don’t take Nikolai’s advice.
I stay up another hour, staring at the coroner’s pictures of my parents’ bodies after we found them in the ravine. I’m not sure why I sit there for so long. It’s a form of self-punishment I thought I’d done away with years ago.
When I finally tuck everything back into the drawer, I know that I won’t be able to sleep tonight. Tired as I am, my retinas are burning with the images. With the memories.
What I need now is a pain reliever. Something to take the edge off. I reach for the bar cart, but three vodkas later, I’m feeling more wired than ever. Adrenaline pumps through me, reminding me that I’m alive and they’re not.
Fuck.
It’s Pandora’s box and the lid is cracked wide open. I can see all my sins circling the air around me, ready to lunge the moment I expose my neck. I pace the floor of my office. On each circuit, as I pass by my desk, I let my gaze linger on the dark screen of my monitor. It’d be easy to call up the camera feeds. Just to check in.
If vodka didn’t fix me, maybe she can?
Fuck no.
But the thought is persistent. And the more time passes, the louder it becomes. Just one little peek. One look and you can shut the thing right off.
I know it’s dangerous. I’m an addict and she’s the drug I can’t quit. It’s just that nothing has ever felt as good as being inside her. I’ve never lost myself so completely as when I’m there, sharing breath, skin to skin, her eyes locked on mine and mine on hers. I have no idea why. And as pretty as she is, I can’t credit those beautiful eyes or those rosebud lips.
It’s everything else about her that draws me in. Her laugh when she sees something funny. Her smile when I deign to say something halfway decent to her. That soft melody of her voice when she’s trying to calm Lev down.
Those are the things I think about when I crave her.
I end up in front of the monitor, my hands gripping the edges of the desk hard as they crackle to life. Despite how late it is, she’s still up, lying in bed on her stomach with a book.
I don’t even watch her that long before my will crumbles. With vodka still burning down my throat, I stalk to the basement like an animal ready to be uncaged.
Don’t do it. Don’t do it. Don’t do it.
It’s a steady refrain that keeps going—right up until I turn the lock on the door and push it open. She shoves herself upright, eyes wide and alarmed.
“Uri…？”
Just the sound of my name on her lips is balm for my soul. I shut the door and walk toward her, wondering how to even begin to explain my presence here.
Alyssa takes one look at my face and frowns. “Are you okay?”
Her eyes lower to my arms and that’s when it hits me—my hands are curled into fists as though I’m ready for a fight. Little does she know, I already am fighting.