Hidden Monsters (Volkov Bratva #4)(40)

He was tempted, tempted to tell her how he really felt, but it wasn’t time for that, not yet.

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Over the last hour, she had quieted, besides the constant movement that put Luka on edge. He was nervous, not sure what she was capable of in her current state. He didn’t want to hurt her, even as that was exactly what he was currently doing, but as of yet, the need for him to restrain her hadn’t come.

Loki had come around the door, whining, trying to get his paw beneath the door as though that would help him get it open, but had given up soon after, dropping his weight onto the floor as he laid there.

An observer by nature, Luka had merely watched her as she was lost in her own mind, wondering what she was thinking about that made her oblivious to him. He had wondered, for some time, which part of her f*cked-up life was the reason for this recent descent into drugs. He hadn’t minded the alcohol, not really. Everyone had their vices, but whether she wanted him to or not, he’d needed to step in and fix the problem. She might not have thought it had taken over her life, but addicts rarely did.

If he had to guess, then this had something to do with Anya. Mikhail had been gone too long for him to be a factor, not to mention the fact that she rarely brought him up. That wasn’t to say that the way he treated her hadn’t played a part in her misery, but that hadn’t gotten under her skin the way Anya had. There was something there that Luka didn’t know about, and probably had something to do with the day that Alex had gone over to meet with her and ultimately had killed her.

She lived amongst people who killed without remorse, it was just their way of life, but up until that night, Alex had remained untouched by the brutality of the Bratva life. Luka saw plenty of faces when he closed his eyes at night, more than a dozen at least, but he knew there was only one that plagued her. Unlike the men he’d put in the ground, she’d had a relationship with Anya. It didn’t matter that he might have thought Anya was a bitch, had even thought about silencing her so Mishca wouldn’t have to, but she had still been Alex’s mother.

“Have you ever done something you regret?”

Alex’s question brought Luka out of his thoughts. She was looking at him with such sad and broken eyes that it was almost hard for him to maintain that contact.

He knew what she was really asking, but in that regard, he had none. There was no one he’d killed who hadn’t deserved it or had intended to kill him. Did he have other regrets? Plenty.

Though the truth was different, he lied to her because it was what she needed. “Yes.”

Resting her head against the wall, she closed her eyes. “There was no blood, you know—well, of course you know. You probably had to clean it up, get rid of everything.” She paused, as if she’d expected him to deny that. When he remained silent, she went on. “A friend of mine sold me GHB the night before, so I guess I can’t say I didn’t think about what I was going to do. I mean I knew that it was going to happen eventually, right? Even without the whole mercenary business, she’d embarrassed Mikhail. She had caused so much damage that it was a surprise to me that she wasn’t already dead.”

Laughing, though it sounded forced and full of pain, Alex wiped a tear from her face, finally looking at him. Actually looking at him. There it was, the brokenness, the one thing he had hoped never to see in her.

“She was a bitch, always, to everyone. Even me. Especially to me now that I think about it. Everything was always a competition for her. She had to look the best, wear the best clothes, and eat the best food. It didn’t really matter that I was her daughter. To her, I was just another person potentially standing in her way.”

He had felt it before he saw it, the way her sadness was taking her over, bleeding into her words. He understood what it was like running from a memory that haunted you, and when there was nowhere left to go, he knew what would happen once it consumed you.

She fought it for several moments, but the moment that first tear fell, it was as if she broke open. She was sobbing, her words nearly incoherent, but she forced them out, and Luka made it a point not to interrupt and just listen.

“But she was my mom and I loved her,” she said sniffling, wiping her nose with the back of her hand. “You understand that, don’t you?” Her voice broke when she asked that question, her eyes searching him for the answer she needed. Seeing her like this was a different kind of torture he’d never experienced. “You can still love a person who hates you. She didn’t even want me. I was just another way for her to solidify her place. She was going to kill me without hesitation—”

“But you love her still,” Luka said softly.

She cried, with everything in her, and Luka couldn’t just sit and watch her. He wanted to hold her, take that pain away, but she hit him, trying to push him away, and with the first hit came another. And another. And soon, she was on her feet, slapping and punching him.

He dropped his arms, taking the onslaught, willing to do anything to help her, and if this was what it took, she could beat the shit out of him and he would accept it.

It went on for some time until she was too tired to swing again. Then she just cried for hours, and only then did she finally let him pull her into his arms, tucking her head beneath his chin. Now that she wasn’t fighting him, he lifted her off her feet, bringing them down to the floor, maneuvering her until she was sitting comfortably in his lap, her legs wrapped around him.