The Final Hour (Volkov Bratva #3)(68)

Everyday it felt like she lost another piece of Mishca, and soon she feared that she wouldn’t have him at all, especially now that he was married.

Once she made the call, hearing the irateness in Mishca’s voice, she focused only on Anya. Despite her family, Alex had never seen a dead body before, not for the lack of killings that she knew Mishca and the others had committed. For a while, she could only stare at Anya’s body for the longest time. It had been over quickly, and if Alex hadn’t witnessed it herself, she would think Anya was sleeping.

Before long, she heard them outside, using the key to let themselves in. Alex only saw Mishca and Luka enter first before she dropped her gaze again, but she knew Vlad wasn’t far behind.

“Want me to take care of it?” Luka asked quietly to Mishca, lacking that spark of emotion she had heard the last time she saw him.

“Give me a minute.”

She expected Mishca to be angry with her for going behind his back, but if his actions were any indication, he wasn’t upset with her at all. He pulled her out of the room, his hand gentle on her. When he finally stopped, he kept both hands on her shoulders, forcing her to face him while using his body as a block from what they were doing back in the den.

“What happened?”

She opened her mouth, ready to tell him everything, but it was the look on his face that made her pause. She was so used to his stern look, the way he addressed the men under his charge, but it had been a while since she felt her age around him.

There was so much sadness there, and fear, that despite her efforts, she began tearing up. It was like his words snapped her back to reality. A reality where she had killed her own mother.

“She would have killed us all,” Alex said, hating that her voice was shaking when she talked to him. She didn’t want to seem weak. “I’m sorry.”

“Stop.”

She expected him to tell her how badly she had f*cked up, but he pulled her into a hug, her head tucked beneath his chin, the way he always did since she was a little girl.

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” he whispered. “I should have done better for you.”

She shook her head against his chest, not because she thought he had done anything wrong, but because she understood what he was saying to her. He didn’t want her to feel guilt for what she had done, and in true Mishca fashion, he felt like it was his fault.

What he didn’t understand was that he couldn’t save everyone.

She was already lost, and had been for a long time.

Luka interrupted their moment, whistling low. Mishca drew back from her, but he didn’t go far, staying close as he looked to see what Luka had wanted. He gestured to the door with a tilt of his head, hearing something neither of them could. Vlad seemed to hear it too, stepping just behind the vicinity of the door, his gun at the ready, but he needn’t have worried.

It was only Mikhail.

It had never surprised Alex that he always seemed to know when to appear at the most inopportune times. She might not have felt fear that Mishca would be angry at her actions, but she did when it came to Mikhail.

Alex could count on one hand how many times they had actually spoken since they had found out about Viktor, and that wasn’t without her trying to reach out to him.

He came into the apartment without a word, his officers probably waiting outside, looking around at each of them before finally resting on Anya. Alex wished she had stayed behind Mishca so she wouldn’t have seen the satisfied smirk on his face.

Alex knew Mishca hated Anya with a passion, yet he at least had the decency to conceal his delight at her death from Alex.

Now, the change she had been expecting from Mishca came over him.

“Luka,” Mishca called, his tone chillingly cold. “Take her.”

She wanted to protest against that, really wanting to be alone, but neither of them would let that happen.

“Should she not answer for what she has done?” Mikhail asked, gesturing out at Anya with his hand, though he looked like he could care less that she was dead.

“If she does, she answers to me, and that won’t be tonight. Luka.”

Alex stepped around Mishca, walking towards he door without waiting for Luka to lead the way.

The worst part? Mikhail wouldn’t even look at her. It didn’t matter that she was an innocent in the entire matter of Anya and Viktor. It didn’t matter that she had taken care of a problem that was threatening the life of one of his Captains. Since she was the product of a betrayal against him, she was just as guilty as Anya and Viktor in his eyes.

“Hang on.”

Alex stopped, turning her shattered expression into one of indifference when she turned back to look at Luka, the only one of them she wasn’t afraid to look at for fear of what his expression may be. She could never explain it, but there was something about him that made her pay attention.

Maybe it was the way he made a point to make other people view him as mad when in all honesty, he was one of the smartest guys she knew. He portrayed the idiot well, but when situations grew dire, she recognized the change in him, how he could easily command a room without a second thought.

Maybe they had one thing in common—hiding who they truly were on the inside.

Tonight, there were two plaits braided into his blonde hair at the temples, the look oddly suiting him. Unlike the last time she had seen him when he appeared to be trying to get away from her as fast as possible, tonight he looked like he was in control again.