In the Beginning (Volkov Bratva #1)(63)

She ignored the whispers, ignoring Mishca calling for her, but as she rounded the corner, looking back one last time, it was Viktor that she looked to.

He didn’t appear worried as the others did. In fact, there was something cold and calculating about his expression that made fear bloom to life in Lauren’s chest. Only he could know why Lauren reacted the way he did.

It was his voice she remembered.

***

They arrived at the airport with time to spare, but instead of spending their last few minute together promising to call, Lauren sat silently in the passenger seat, watching people hustle in and out of the airport. Her mind was too preoccupied with the night her subconscious had buried to realize that Mishca was watching her.

She wanted to confide in him, to at least ask what those words meant, but she held back. She wanted to think that she was just too overwhelmed to ask, but a part of her knew that she wasn’t going to bring it up because she was afraid of what his answer might be.

It wasn’t just the words, but the fact that it was his uncle’s voice that she heard loud and clear that made her not speak about it.

Instead, she turned to him and said, “I don’t want to miss my flight.”

He nodded, unlocking the car doors to help her with her luggage. At the entrance, they stood facing one another, oblivious to the people hustling around them though they did get a couple of glares for standing in the way.

“What happened?” He asked before she could walk away.

“I…It was nothing.”

“It wasn’t nothing. Why won’t you talk to me?”

She shook her head, looking past him. “We’ll talk when I get back.”

He sighed, letting it go when he realized she wasn’t going to say anything. “Call me when you land, yes?”

“Okay.”

He nodded and leaned forward to press a quick kiss to her lips, one that she hesitantly returned, hoping to quell the hurt she saw in his eyes and the fear she held in her heart.

But as he turned away, donning his sunglasses and climbing back in his car, she felt they couldn’t be farther apart than they were in that moment.





Chapter Nineteen:


Home Sweet Home


If there was one thing Lauren missed about home—besides Susan and Ross—was the quietness of her old neighborhood. Living in New York for the past five months, she had grown accustomed to the frantic pace of city life, the stench of exhaust, and the constant sounds of blaring horns, but it was nice to be able to listen to birds chirping, and inhale the aroma of cherry blossoms that were behind the house.

Originally, coming to Michigan was meant to be a short vacation, just time to spend with her mom and Ross before the upcoming semester, but after the incident at breakfast, her time in Michigan felt more like an escape. She originally planned to stay for a week, but after calling off work—and agreeing to pick up her extra shifts when she got back—she was staying the rest of the break here.

Their old house held too many bad memories for them to stay there. It took only about a month before she and Susan had moved to a much smaller home, a two-bedroom on the outskirts of town. It was pale blue, with a white wraparound porch, the paint peeling off the sides. The garage was behind the house and was used mostly for storage.

It might have been tiny, but it was all they needed.

Since she had been there, Lauren had caught up with Susan, spending hours talking about her business and Lauren’s life back in New York, though she avoided talking about Mishca and Susan didn’t bring him up. When she was around, Susan helped keep her mind off him, but after she had left about an hour ago to grab some supplies from the store, he was the first thing that came to mind.

Lauren had called as promised, but since that one phone call a few days ago, she hadn’t heard from him or reached out to him since. Every time she tried to justify why she had remembered Viktor’s voice, the conclusion was always worse than the last.

It had been well over a decade and rationally she knew she could have just placed a voice there, but it was hard trying to dispute her own memory. Maybe when she got back to New York, she might ask Mishca about what Viktor had said.

For all she knew, it could have been a common saying in Russia, words offering good health and prosperity…but what if they weren’t?

Since sitting around wasn’t helping, Lauren set off into the garage, searching for a box of her old things since the storage space in her bedroom now housed sewing machines and fabric.

She spotted a few with her name on them on a top shelf in the far corner. Not finding a step stool, she stretched up to get them, her fingers just brushing the bottom. Making quick work of it, she inched them out one by one, setting them on the floor beside her. As she started on the last one, it was heavier than the rest, and as she was finally able to tip it into her arms, yelping as a smaller box on top tumbled down, barely missing her face.

The contents spilled out, pictures, buttons, pens, and clothes. They were her father’s things. She recognized his Stanford sweater, as well as the leather bracelet that had Daddy spelled out in colorful beads.

She crouched down next to all his old stuff, tears pooling in her eyes. Her hands trembled as she clutched the sweater to her chest. She burrowed her face in the oft fabric and when she closed her eyes, she could almost smell him, the warm, familiar scent bringing back flashes of memories.