Red. (Den of Mercenaries #1)(80)

In the twenty-one years that he had lived with her, she had never mentioned that name, and judging from the way Mishca stood a little bit straighter, a flash of pain in his eyes, Niklaus knew that Catja had been their mother.

“She worried,” Malvina said sadly, “that the life Mikhail wanted for you two would ultimately tear you apart. So, she gave me you, Niklaus, to love and raise—give you the freedom you might not have had otherwise.”

Whatever ill feelings he might have had towards Catja drifted away at his mother’s words. No one could have predicted what would come of it, and that despite her best efforts, they had ultimately been torn apart.

But Malvina didn’t need to know that.

Getting back to his feet, Niklaus looked to Reagan who was standing not too far away, and unlike him, she was crying freely, quickly wiping at her eyes, however, when she noticed his attention on her.

With one arm still around Malvina, he held his hand out to Reagan and waited. Wordlessly, she joined him at his side.

He didn’t know what Malvina would say about her. She knew better than anyone in this room how he had felt about Sarah.

“Such a sweet girl, your Reagan,” Malvina said instantly. “Stayed with me during the entire flight, though she didn’t tell me you needed a haircut.”

She reached for his hair, and he had to bend at the waist to give her access to what she wanted. As quickly as she had touched the ends of it, she turned a narrowed gaze on Mishca.

“You too, Mishca.” She asked, making her head. “It’s grown too long.”

Lauren smiled up at her husband, waiting to see his reaction just as Niklaus did.

The man in question just shrugged. “Let me know and I’ll let you have at it. Now, we’ll give you all some time before Lauren comes back with Sacha. She told me how you’ve been ready to meet your grandson.”

Malvina’s eyes lit up, and Niklaus knew it wasn’t just because of the prospect of meeting Sacha, but the casual way he had included her in the family.

Releasing his hold on his mother and Reagan, Niklaus walked back over to Mishca and didn’t hesitate in hugging him. Mishca grew stiff, but after a moment, he returned the embrace.

It had only taken twenty-seven years, but they had finally embraced as family should.

“Thank you, brat.”

It was the first, and probably the last time, Niklaus would ever call Mishca, ‘brother,’ but in that moment, that was how he felt.

With just this simple gesture, though Niklaus couldn’t express the magnitude of it in words, Niklaus finally let it all go.

The anger.

The frustration.

The hatred.

This meant the world to him.

“No worries,” Mishca said for only him to hear. “You deserve this.”

Clapping him on the back, Mishca pulled away, grabbing hold of Lauren’s hand. When Niklaus looked to her, she winked, a knowing smile curling her lips. She had always promised that the feud between them would end, and he hadn’t believed her.

She was right.

As they made their leave, Niklaus turned back to his two favorite women. Rubbing the back of his neck, he knew it was about to be a long night. “Where do I start?”

Malvina got comfortable on the couch, patting the spot next to her. “Start at the beginning.”



* * *



Three months later



“For someone that hasn’t had a permanent place in years, you’ve accumulated a lot of junk,” Reagan said as she looked around at the sheers amount of organized boxes that were lined throughout that storage room.

Day after day, she had woken up to the sight of him next to her, sometimes asleep, other times awake, his sleepy gaze on her. In that time, she had stopped worrying that one morning she would wake up and he would be gone.

If he did leave for longer than twenty-four hours—and that had happened on a few occasions—he let her know beforehand.

For good or bad, he was there with her, and she couldn’t imagine it any other way.

Nevertheless, that didn’t mean she had been ready for the clusterf*ck of unpacking that awaited them. He had long since already moved himself in, yet he kept all of his possessions in one of seventeen warehouses he kept around the city.

Some were full of weapons, she remembered him saying once, others filled with other such things that she didn’t really want to think about considering he said it was ‘need to know.’

Except one, one he’d said was filled with more personal belongings—things he had collected over his travels, and even a few mementos from his life before becoming a mercenary. It was the suitcase, the same one he had brought along with his to New York City that first time.

He had given her everything he possibly could. His name, his memories, his experiences, and everything else, even if it was hard to hear.

And now, there was just this one final step…one simple task before it was done and he was fully integrated into her life.

“Not junk, babe,” Niklaus said as he walked past, touching a few of the boxes along the way, as if it reminded him as to what was inside each one.

“Right, you won’t be saying that when we have to go through all of this later—never mind the number of trips it’s going to take to get this all back to our place.”

“Are you always this moody?”