Until the End (Volkov Bratva #2)(24)

Raising a hand, she knocked tentatively, hearing the soft clicking of heels. Alex’s smile grew as she nervously smoothed her hair, happiness blossoming in her chest as she anticipated seeing her mother.

Anya answered the door in a flurry of motion, the skirt of her dress billowing out. At first she looked hopeful, but spotting Alex at the door, her face quickly morphed to annoyance.

“What do you want?”

Alex was momentarily taken aback at how angry she sounded. She’d thought her mother would have been happy to see her, but if anything, she sounded like Alex was the last person she was hoping to see.

“I came to visit,” Alex called after her as Anya disappeared down the corridor without actually inviting Alex in.

Since she had left the door open, Alex assumed that was invitation enough.

The apartment was large, though lacked any of the elegance that could be found at the manor. White walls, minuscule furniture, and a kitchen that looked like it was last renovated in the early thirties. Wincing, Alex felt guilty that the only thing she had thought to bring was a small gift basket when she clearly needed more. Maybe she could appeal to Mishca to bring her back on another date, then she would bring everything Anya could possibly want.

“So why are you really here?” Anya asked lighting a cigarette.

Alex hadn’t know she even smoked. “I told you. I wanted to see how you were doing. Mishca—”

“Bah! Don’t speak his name in my presence. It’s all his fault I’m in this wretched hellhole anyway, him and that American bitch.”

Alex frowned at the vehemence she heard in Anya’s tone, not for Lauren—she could care less about her—but the way she talked about Mishca. It wasn’t his fault at all.

Deciding to change the subject, Alex presented her with the basket. “I didn’t know what to bring you, so I brought a little of everything. If there’s anything you want, I can get it for you.”

Sighing, Anya accepted, looking at it disdainfully as she dropped it on the island, uncaring of the glass bottles inside.

“I suppose I’m meant to thank you, no?”

Alex was too flabbergasted to even agree. She was just now realizing that some of Anya’s disgust was aimed at her as well, but she wasn’t ready to give up yet.

“How are you doing?”

“How do you think, stupid girl? Can you not see this deplorable apartment that I am being forced to live in. God, even dogs live better than this.”

“Is there—”

“Stop sniveling!”

Alex’s throat was tightening as tears threatened to fall. Never in her life had Anya treated her so coldly. At least not that she could remember, but Alex had weak spot where Anya was concerned.

“If you really want to do something for me, you’ll get rid of that girl.”

“Get rid—you want me to kill her.” She might have hated her, but she didn’t wish Lauren dead.

“It’s the least you could do after what you’ve done.”

“I-I can’t do that.” She didn’t think she had it in her to kill another person. “That would hurt Mishca. He’s my bro—”

Rearing her hand back, Anya landed an open-palmed slap to Alex’s face.

“What about me? Where is your loyalty? He’s not your brother. He should mean nothing to you.”

No tears would form despite the radiating pain in her face, nor could she think of anything to say. She could do no more than stand there, holding her palm to her cheek, staring at her mother.

“I should have gotten rid of you,” Anya spat angrily, ignoring the look on hurt on Alex’s face. “You’ve ruined me!”

Spinning on her heel, Alex walked out of her mother’s apartment, Anya’s insults carrying out with her. With the door slammed shut, and Alex alone once again, she crouched down, glad for the dim light so that anyone walking by wouldn’t notice her.

It was in this cold and dirty place that she allowed herself to cry for everything she had lost.

When she could cry no more, Alex wiped the tears away, grabbing the compact from her purse to hide any traces of her weakness.

She walked slowly back out to the car, remarking on how short and bitter the meeting with her mother had been. She also needed that time to get herself together, knowing that if she didn’t, Mishca would notice she’d been crying, and she didn’t want to think about what he would do if he saw it.

Back in the car, she buckled her seatbelt without a word, pasting a cheery smile on her face when she felt Mishca staring at her profile.

“How did it go?”

She looked over at him, noticing for the first time the differences in their appearances. She had never felt more distanced from him in her life.

He was the one that had taken her to the park when her mother was busy, bandaged her scrapes and cuts, offering words of wisdom on every little thing she asked of him.

“Fine.”

She didn’t care that he was not her brother.

In her heart, he always would be.





Lauren sighed in relief as she arrived home, exhausted from her night at work. She longed to just take a shower and go to sleep, but with a test tomorrow, she had to stay up for a few hours to study.

Letting herself into the building, Lauren headed upstairs, coming up short when she saw Mishca sitting in front of her door, his jacket lain across his lap. His tie was loosened, the top button of his shirt undone. His eyes were bloodshot, but he merely looked tired more than drunk.