Reap (Scarred Souls, #2)(58)

I swallowed at Luka’s answer. Kisa cast me a smile as Luka threaded his hand through hers. I instantly felt guilty, my readiness to argue with my brother vanishing to dust.

I ran my hands down my face and groaned. “I just wanted him to myself, Luka. He was weak and so lost. In fact, I thought he’d died. I’d been watching him on the surveillance footage and could see his gradual change. He was first feral, then weak, then nothing. I thought the cold-turkey drug detox had been too much too soon. But then I went down to see him. I don’t know, so he wouldn’t be alone, I guess. The change in him, God, it was night and day. On the drugs he was an animal, attacking the guards left, right, and center, pacing the same patch of floor like a pit bull. But when the drugs were gone, he stayed slumped against the wall, his sad green eyes staring at nothing. He was so broken, so lonely and lost…” I cleared my throat, remembering him bound, dirty, and matted, in chains.

“I couldn’t leave him.” I flickered my gaze to my brother and Kisa, then added, “And then he responded to me. He trusted me, and we’ve grown close.” A smile curled on my lips. “He’s beautiful. Inside and out.”

“Oh, Talia,” Kisa said softly. I met the eyes of my best friend. “You love him,” she said. My lips parted to argue the case. But as a pair of jade green eyes drifted through my mind I couldn’t … I couldn’t deny Zaal, couldn’t deny the impact he’d had on me.

Kisa rose from her seat and came to take me in her arms. I hugged her back, but as she pulled away I could see concern all over her beautiful face. “You don’t approve?” I asked. Kisa held my hand.

She shook her head. “Talia, I’m not one to judge. I loved your brother my whole life. You know this. But through grief and duty to the Bratva, to my papa, I was claimed by Alik Durov.” Her eyes fell and she shook her head. “But Talia, you know that my father and your father won’t accept your being with a Kostava. Under any circumstance.”

I glanced to Luka, who was watching us. “Luka?” I asked. He ran his hand down his face.

“Kisa’s right. They won’t accept it. He’s not Russian. He’s Georgian. Worse still, his family murdered one of our own.”

Devastation cut through me. I lowered my eyes. “So you’re saying all I have with Zaal are the next few weeks until I have to return home?” Neither of them said anything in response. But it told me everything I’d asked. To them my situation was hopeless.

But quite frankly, I didn’t give a shit what anyone had to say.

Standing, too consumed with concern for Zaal, I decided to go to bed. I refused to accept that I had limited days with Zaal, but if somehow I lost the fight to keep him in my life, I wasn’t going to waste a single second.

I released Kisa’s hand. She got to her feet. “Talia,” she called after me, sympathy for my situation lacing her voice.

“It’s okay, Kisa,” I said in comfort, throwing her a smile. “I’ll be fine. Because what other choice is there? We’re Bratva women, stern Russians who brush anything off. I’ll work it out. I always do.”

Kisa’s eyes closed and opened only to showcase the pain she felt for me. I glanced to Luka, who had his hands in his hair. “You’re just lucky you found your soul mate at birth.” Kisa’s eyes sought out her husband and that love, that breathtaking connection they shared pulsed between them. “And that when he was lost, he returned to you.” My stomach gripped in envy and I added, “Where for me? Because I’ve fallen for the enemy, I get to cherish him, hold him, then am expected to let him go all because the great Volkov powers that be don’t approve. Question is, how the f*ck do you live knowing the person meant solely for you is still out there living and breathing without you by their side?”

Luka got to his feet and I stilled. Since he’d returned, Luka had made no attempt to hold me. He’d never showed any emotion toward me. I watched him approach. Kisa stepped back, a floored expression on her face.

Warily, Luka stood before me, rocking uneasily on his feet. Shock filled my veins as his big arms lifted. Unable to hold back my gasp, Luka wrapped them around me and brought me to his chest.

I held him. I held my big brother and took solace in his embrace. I’d missed this. As kids we were so close. He’d hold me all the time. For the first time since he’d returned, it felt like maybe, just maybe, my brother, my childhood hero, was rising from his darkness once again.

I soaked in his warmth and whispered sternly, “Luka, I believe it was meant to happen. Even if it won’t be welcomed.”

Luka pressed a kiss to the top of my head and rasped, “What was meant to happen?”

“Everything,” I said back. “Your journey brought me Zaal. He’s shown me what real love is.”

Luka’s hold tightened. I felt Kisa’s hand on my back. After a few more seconds, I withdrew from his arms. Luka was watching me with concern.

Subconsciously I reached for my necklace. I ran my hand over the Tolstoi name and laughed a humorless laugh. “You know, babushka gave me this as a talisman to find my true love. It was dedushka’s. He gave it to babushka before he left for that trip to Moscow, as a way to keep him close to her heart until he returned.” I caught the gold of the necklace glinting off the beaming sun shining through the window. “I wonder what she would have said knowing that the love I found was the son of the man she hated most.”