Thief (Boston Underworld #5)(60)

“Ana is very young,” I remark. “I only worry that she will rush into this and regret it later. I want to be certain of her decision.”

Viktor doesn’t answer. Alexei has discovered us lurking in the hall, and he’s coming our way.

“Are the celebrations over so soon?” he asks.

Viktor forces a smile for his benefit. “Of course not. We were just discussing some business, but I assure you, the celebrations will continue.”

Alexei nods, and Viktor slaps him on the shoulder. “You’re going to make an excellent father. Let’s go see about a cigar, shall we?”

Before they leave, Viktor issues his final ultimatum. “One month. No more, Kol’ka. You will have your answers, or you won’t. But either way, you will wed my daughter.”





“It was a lovely party,” Nakya says as we walk through the door.

She’s made several attempts at small talk already, sensing something is off. After my conversation with Viktor, my mood soured, and for me, the celebrations were over. I drank simply for the sake of drinking, and now I can’t see straight.

I send away the bratok who drove us home and lock up the house.

“You should go to bed, zvezda.”

She moves closer, attempting to lure me back in with her honeyed lips. For one week, we have spent every night together. I have not tended to my Vory duties, forsaking all that is important because of her. And still, it is not enough.

“You aren’t coming with me?”

“No.”

Her shoulders sag, pieces of her hair falling around her face as she lowers her gaze. I think I liked her better when she refused to show her emotion.

“Did I do something wrong?”

“You shouldn’t have been there.” The words unleash from my tongue like a whip, and she flinches in kind. “You can’t control your emotions. They are written all over your face for the world to see. For Viktor to see.”

“I didn’t think—”

“That is exactly the problem,” I sneer. “You don’t think. And I have grown tired of it.”

Her chin quivers, and she clings to my shirt. “Please don’t do this, Nika. I know that you care. This isn’t you talking.”

“You are mistaken, pet. It is exactly me talking. I’m bored of you, so do yourself a favor and get out of my sight.”

She fractures as I knew she would, rushing away from me with broken sobs. Still, it isn’t enough. I want her gone. Out of my sight and my mind. She is complicating my life and making it hell.

But it doesn’t change anything.

Because even when she goes, I am empty.





Over the course of a week, I’ve drunk my way through the liquor cabinet. Presently, I find that I don’t much have a taste for Old Crow whiskey, but it does the job regardless.

Between chain smoking and drinking, I haven’t got much accomplished. The brown file still sits in my drawer, unread, and Viktor calls to check in often, inquiring about my progress. The lies spill from my lips easily when I’m drunk, and if he notices my erratic behavior, he doesn’t say.

Twice this week, I’ve been forced to sit through dinners with Ana. The pakhan has become obsessed with the prospective engagement on the horizon, encouraging every opportunity for us to spend time together. I speak very little during our encounters, asking only questions about her. She is happy to oblige with answers.

Unlike Nakya, she is not guarded. Ana is open and childlike, often choosing to reference celebrity gossip or other frivolous topics. She is girlish and giggly and far too na?ve to be with someone like me, but it doesn’t stop her from blushing every time I look her way. The worst part is that she believes she’s in love with me because her father continues to nurture the idea.

My fate is sealed. Viktor will see me marry her, and I need to let go of the things I can’t change. I have been a coward and a liar, and Alexei was right to say I’m undeserving of the stars I bear. I have forsaken my Vory brothers, and it’s time to end this charade.

The house is quiet, and everyone is asleep when I settle into my office. Nakya has returned to the sanctuary of her own room, and I have made it a point not to see her during her waking hours. But every night, I check for her on the camera. I watch her restless sleep from the screen of my phone, and it’s as close to her as I can get.

It’s better this way. And regardless of what this file might hold, my decision has been made. If I’m entitled to my pound of flesh, it will come from Manuel himself. And then Nakya will go back to her life, free to do as she pleases. Free to starve herself or dance herself to death, or to marry Dante if she chooses.

The clock on the wall is the only soundtrack to my manic thoughts as I stare at the thick brown paper. Tick, tick, tick. For a moment, I choose to believe that Mischa was right. If I wanted to, I could let this go without reading the details. What difference does it make now? She is dead, and nothing will bring her back.

But it’s only another lie.

She was my mother.

I drain my glass and smoke a few more cigarettes while pacing the length of my office. It can’t be that bad. Mischa is always overly dramatic, I think. It’s just a few pieces of paper, and I am a grown man. A Vor. And a Vor never backs down from anything.

I sit back down and retrieve the file I have tried to open so many times. It’s just paper. Nothing more.