The Final Hour (Volkov Bratva #3)(10)

“No.”

“Seriously?” She looked to Luka for confirmation. “Why not?”

“It was an order.”

“But what about his other duties, like the Gilded Room?”

Glaring at Luka, Mishca simply said, “He’s been reassigned.”

“Having too much fun,” Luka chimed in. “It might also be because of the shirt.”

Mishca, as he always did, threatened Luka when he began unzipping his jacket, turning to show Lauren the shirt he was wearing despite Mishca’s protests.

Printed in bright red letters were the words, MISHCA’S MINION. It nearly took up the entirety of the front of the shirt, and when Luka turned around in an excited spin to show off the back of it. A smiley face, with stars for the eyes and a tongue sticking out, had to be the best part.

Laughing, Lauren said, “I want one.”

“I’ll burn it,” Mishca threatened.

“Fine, I won’t buy the shirt if you do something to help me.” When he narrowed his eyes on her, she knew she had won.

“I’ll work on it. For now, Luka is all I have.”



Before long, those first few months turned into six months, and those six months turned into nearly a year. Without even a hint of Jetmir in all of that time, Lauren had gradually stopped fearing that she would see him on the street. Mishca hadn’t. He was still as vigilant as ever. And while Luka had started on other assignments for Mishca, no longer just watching Lauren, there was always someone nearby.

During this time, she gained a full understanding of Mishca’s true network. He had people everywhere.

Instead of taking the summer off—as she had done since starting college—Lauren stayed in school, taking fifteen hours, and another eighteen for the fall and spring. Because of this, she was graduating early. She had barely been able to spend time with Mishca with the amount of course work she had for her last semester, but it was all worth it, knowing that in just a few short weeks, she would be graduating, one step closer to medical school.

To say that she was stressed was an understatement. Most of her nights were spent in the Manhattan Public Library, studying away to prepare for graduating in May. More often than not, there were empty cups of coffee resting in front of her, but by the time finals came around, it was no longer just coffee, but numerous shots of espresso as well.

On one particular night, she had consumed so many, she was practically bouncing in her seat, her thumb twitching ever so often. She was so wired it felt like she was running on pure adrenaline.

It was only four in the afternoon.

Since she had planned on staying the night at Mishca’s apartment, he came to pick her up an hour later, his eyebrows rising the closer he got to her. Gently distracting the cup from her vice-like grip, he tossed it in a nearby trash can.

She watched him curiously, her leg still bouncing beneath the table, as he shouldered her bag, the sight of him like that making her smile since he was wearing one of his suits.

“I’m not done yet,” she said shaking her head. “I still have two chapters to go over.”

“I can help you when we get back.”

He wasn’t really giving her much of a choice, and she wasn’t in the mood to fight him over it—though it felt like she could. She picked up what few belongings she had left on the table, following Mishca out to his idling car.

Vlad waved from the driver’s seat, his usually stoic expression melting away when Lauren climbed in the car exuberantly. Mishca was more subdued, but it was clear that he was amused by her.

“How many of those have you had?” Mishca asked as they pulled off.

Lauren shrugged, waving her hand like it was no big deal. “I’ve only had like two cups.”

She tried not to seem too proud of that answer, but it was written all over her face, and he had a feeling that she wasn’t telling him everything.

“How many shots of espresso were in each?”

“Maybe three or four, but I needed them,” she quickly went on as he dropped his head back at her answer. “I didn’t sleep much last night—your fault by the way. I only asked you how the position was possible, not to give me a demonstration.”

Vlad’s startled cough made Mishca smile, shaking his head. “Lauren, now would be a good time to stop talking.”

“But—”

He gently placed his hand over her mouth, drawing her closer. “Maybe it’ll be a good idea if you get some sleep now, no?”

She shook her head, pulling his hand away. “But I’m not tired. Give me like another three hours and I’ll be ready.”

When they were back at his place, Lauren set up her books on the couch, Mishca heading into the kitchen to get a glass of water for her. By the time he got back, though only a few minutes had passed, Lauren was fast asleep.



“I need a favor,” Mishca said pressing a set of keys into Lauren’s hand when she got home the next day. “Alex is in Brighton Beach. I need you to pick her up.”

“Why is she there?” Lauren asked, peeking down at the logo on the keys she held.

The set for the Range Rover were hanging just beside his head, and without a second thought, Lauren reached past him, grabbing them, replacing the Mercedes keys instead. Mishca didn’t comment on this—not that he cared which car she drove—just smiled.