Empire of Sin (Empire #2)(101)

Before I can wrap my head around what Damien said, Papa’s clipped voice reaches me. “You’ll marry Kirill or Vladimir.”

“Papa!”

“Pick one.”

“Vlad is like my older brother.”

“Kirill then.”

“Papa, please, no. He’s even worse than Damien. Not only is he cunning and manipulative, but he’ll also only use me to become the Pakhan.”

“So be it.”

Tears slide down my face. “Is that all I’ve ever been to you? A pawn on a chessboard? A prize for the most suitable?”

He’s silent for a beat before he lets out a long exhale. “I have lung cancer, Nastyusha.”

“W-what?”

“I’m in remission, but the doctors say I could relapse at any time and I might have to start counting my days.”

The room sways but I realize it’s me as I grab onto the nearest chair and use it as support. The information he just revealed pricks my skin over and over.

Papa has cancer—or used to.

“Oh, God, is this why you wanted to marry me off that time, but Rai volunteered to do it? You wanted to pick a new Pakhan, too.”

“Yes. Only Rai and Vladimir know about my illness and we’ve kept it a secret from everyone else on purpose. I wanted to choose someone suitable for you before my time is up.”

I don’t think about it as I approach him until I’m so close, I can see how pale his skin is. Now that I think about it, right before I left, there were times when he pulled away from me and even refused to see me. And that pained me more than I admitted. It hurt to be just a wallflower in his house.

“Why didn’t you tell me, Papa?”

“Because I don’t want to hurt you.”

“But I’m your daughter. I’m supposed to take care of you.”

“You’ve always seen me as strong and powerful. That day I shot that lowlife, you looked at me as if I were a god, and I selfishly needed you to continue looking at me as such. I don’t want you to witness me weak and coughing up blood.”

“I don’t care…I just want to be there for you like you were there for me when I was young.”

He offers me his hand and I take it, sniffling back the tears. “Nastyusha…listen to me. You have to marry within the brotherhood to remain protected.”

“No, Papa, I can’t. I just can’t marry Kirill or anyone else when I’m in love with Knox. It’ll kill me slowly.”

“Nastyusha…”

“Please give him a chance, Papa. Please. You’d be surprised to see the lengths he’d go to protect me and be there for me.”

“What if he doesn’t succeed?”

“He will.” I have no doubt.

Because I realized something today.

Knox and I might belong to different worlds, but we belong together, and once we both put our minds to it, nothing can stop us.





40





KNOX





I meant what I told Anastasia. If she doesn’t call me today, I’m going back there, to the men she fears and doesn’t want to defy.

Her father will either have to give her back to me or he might as well shoot me. That’s the only way I would ever give up on her.

Fucking death.

I try to work normally, to pretend I’m a functioning human being, even though every neuron is urging me to go and find her.

Ten more hours, I tell myself.

Just ten more hours and I’ll go find her.

My desk has been crowded with cases since the Bell trials made me famous—more than before—so I have even more people wanting me to represent them. I’ll have to go through the details and choose which ones I’ll take on.

I know for sure they’re going to be cases for people like me—abused, broken, and with shadows crowding their lives twenty-four-seven. I always thought such cases weren’t good for me; they’d trigger me, which is why I turned them down.

I used to put myself first, not caring about the fate of others. But through Sandra’s case, I realized just how wrong that is. Yes, I’m allowed to feel pain, but not at the expense of ignoring theirs. I can have shadows, but I’m not supposed to be blinded to theirs.

It might have taken me some time to come to this conclusion, but better late than never.

And all of it is because of her, the woman who told me I could be a voice for those who have no voice. A bit like her, a bit like her mother.

She didn’t give up, even though she barely knew me at the beginning. She pushed on and on until I conceded.

She’s resilient that way, my Anastasia.

And now, I’m back to thinking about her, about how she begged me to leave, how she implored and insisted with those eyes that I can’t stop picturing.

It’s not lack of work that keeps me sitting in my chair, hands crossed behind my head, and staring at the ceiling.

I should’ve probably taken the day off and stalked her house, hoping the armed guards wouldn’t chop my head off.

And honestly? It’d be bloody worth it.

When I told Daniel about my plan for last night, he called me a crazy arsehole, so I might as well live up to the expectations.

The door opens and I resist the urge to roll my eyes.