Until the End (Volkov Bratva #2)(20)

“With a bottle of premium Tequila. Darling, I’m getting you drunk tonight,” Tristan chimed in with a victorious smile, holding up the giant bottle in one of his tattooed hands.

Amber produced a custom shot glass, with her name and birthdate on it. Tristan poured the first one.

“Am I just chugging this?” Lauren asked.

“Unless you want to do body shots,” he replied lifting up his shirt, revealing more of the tattoos he had hidden beneath. It wasn’t just his arms and hands tattooed like a skeleton, but his chest, and undoubtedly the rest of him as well. “I’m down for that.”

Not rising to the bait, Lauren lifted her glass and smiled at her friends. “Cheers.”

She tossed the drink back, covering her mouth as the urge to spit it out overwhelmed her. Matt was cheering her on in the background, Amber doing her happy dance.

“Good?” Tristan asked.

“Sure,” she croaked back.

“It’s the first of twenty-one.”

She was going to die.





Despite his proclamation, Lauren hadn’t actually taken twenty-one shots, stopping somewhere between five and six. She was too busy listening to Tristan’s latest exploits to drink anymore.

“Then she bends over backwards, freaks me the f*ck out. I’m like have you seen the demonic shit they’re putting in movies lately? I can’t risk her biting my dick off.”

“You alone are the reason we guys have a bad name,” Matt said biting into a cupcake.

“Bullshit. If it weren’t for *s like me, you would never get laid.”

Lauren had grown used to their banter. In fact, she enjoyed listening to them go back and forth. They were like polar opposites of each other, but it worked for them.

A strong gust of wind blew through the small shop when the door opened, the bell chiming with the newcomer’s entrance. Since it was only supposed to be the four of them, Lauren wondered who it could be, at least until she saw her friends’ faces.

Maybe it was a subconscious thing—besides their expressions—that told her it was Mishca. It took a moment, but she needed that time to prepare herself.

Mishca was unlike anyone she had ever met, not just because of the life he led, but because of the reaction he caused in her when he was around. Tonight, he was dressed in his work attire—which job was up for debate—but there was something almost tired about him that worried—

No, she wasn’t supposed to care. She didn’t care.

“Mish?”

“Didn’t mean to interrupt, but I was hoping I could speak with you for a moment, privately.”

She blinked in surprise, looking over to Amber for a second, focusing back on him. “I—yea, give me a sec.”

He nodded, visibly relaxing when she agreed.

“Well that was f*cking awkward,” Tristan muttered when Mishca was back outside. “What happened between you and the Russian?”

“Mishca,” she absently said, knowing no matter how many times she told him that, he would always call him ‘the Russian.’ “How did he even know we were here?” Lauren asked aloud, not really expecting any of them to answer, she was just stalling.

“That was kind of my doing,” Amber spoke up guiltily. “He said he wanted to talk and I…I guess I felt sorry for him. I hope I didn’t overstep.”

“No, no, it’s fine. I just wasn’t expecting him is all.”

“Do you want my opinion?”

“Yes.”

“You should at least talk to him, even if it’s not going to work out between you, you’ll at least have closure.”

Right, right. She would do this for the closure, not because she actually thought there may be a chance with him. Excusing herself, Lauren headed out into the night, pulling her jacket on as she went.

Vlad was a few blocks down the street, standing next to the car. Lauren waved as she stepped beneath the lamp post where Mishca waited.

Folding her arms across her chest, she asked, “What are you doing here?”

“Wanted to talk?” He said though it came out more like a question. “You never answered my calls and it took begging to even get Amber to tell me you would be here tonight. I just want a chance to explain,” he said gazing back at her. He seemed so unsure of himself, shifting his weight from foot to foot.

It was almost endearing.

Every part of her screamed to agree to meet whenever, but she still found herself saying, “I don’t know.”

“One conversation, that’s all I want, and if you don’t want to see me after that, I’ll…I’ll leave you be.”

She heard the words, but it didn’t match the expression on his face. He had that determined look about him that he couldn’t hide.

Lauren couldn’t say no to him.

“Maybe on Thursday. I don’t have classes then,” she offered.

Mishca nodded gratefully, taking her hand, bringing it to his lips to ghost a kiss over her knuckles. “Thank you.”

Though she didn’t want him to, he released, taking a step back to give her space. “I’ll leave you to your party.”

At the last second, he leaned, pressing a lingering kiss to the spot just below her ear, a reminder of what they’d had. He was gone soon after, but she didn’t move until his car was out of sight. In that moment, she didn’t feel the anger or the betrayal, only a feeling of completeness.