by Monica James
“Yes, we do. Come, Ella.”
But she shakes her head, still refusing to look at me. “No, it’s okay. I’ll finish milking the cows. Besides, you probably have a lot to catch up on.”
Willow steps forward. “Hi, I’m Willow. And this is Saint. I wish we were meeting under different circumstances, but it’s still nice to meet you.”
Ella lifts her chin and nods a curt hello. “I know who you are,” she gently replies. “I’m Ella.”
Willow smiles, instantly welcoming Ella. She doesn’t know of her circumstances, but this is who Willow is.
Saint, however, isn’t interested in formalities. “As much as this place holds many fond memories for me, you being in here is polluting that. Let’s go inside.”
Willow’s lips lift into a reminiscent smile. And why shouldn’t they? It was in here she and Saint solidified their union. She didn’t need to tell me. She no longer flushed a virgin’s blush when she met the morning sunlight.
I was jealous at the time, but now, I just wish Ella would look at me.
However, she turns around and positions the seat so she can continue her milking.
I don’t know what the right protocol is here. The old me would force her up, demand she come with me, but that won’t work with her. I don’t want to force her. I want her to come of her own accord.
Running a hand through my hair, I exhale in frustration. But eventually, I climb over the railing and walk toward Willow and Saint.
My hands itch to touch her, to ensure she’s really here, but the hard press of Saint’s jaw reveals I will lose several fingers if I do. So I walk past them and out the door, heading for the house.
Pavel stands on the front porch, smoking. No wonder he left in such a hurry. He wanted to keep this a secret from me, knowing I would insist on coming, which would be dangerous to all.
“I suppose this is your doing?” I state to Pavel, who ignores my spite.
And who walks out the front door is the reason he doesn’t bite back. “No, it was mine. Pavel only knew of this plan this morning when I called him.”
“Max?” I stupidly ask because there is no question he’s here. But I don’t understand why.
“Hello, Aleksei. I would say it’s nice to see you, but that would be a lie.”
“Then why are you here?” I bark, riddled with questions. Clearly, no one wants to be here, so why are they?
“Because he wrote to me and told me of the mess you’ve made.” It’s Saint who answers, and I know sooner or later, our conversation will end with bloodied fists.
Larisa hobbles out the door, looking at everyone. It’s like a family reunion. However, we’re missing too many loved ones.
“I made food,” she says, her attention focusing on Willow. She smiles when she sees her.
When she looks at me, that smile soon fades. “Where is the other one?” she asks in Russian. She clearly thinks I’m still in love with Willow to refer to Ella in that manner.
“Ella is milking the cows,” I reply, attempting to conceal my anger as I won’t disrespect her in her own home. “I asked her to come inside, but she refused.”
Larisa shakes her head and raises her eyes to the heavens. “Typical of you to have other’s doing your dirty work.”
Pavel smirks, admiring the boldness his mother still has.
“Let’s get this over with then, shall we?” I order, not interested in playing catch-up. I want to know why they’re all here.
Larisa grunts in agreement and walks into the house. We all follow, and the tension’s so thick, it’s almost impossible to breathe. Delicious smells waft through the air, but eating is the last thing on my mind. Nonetheless, we follow Larisa into the kitchen where she finishes dishing up the food.
Leaning against the counter, I do my best not to look at Willow because she’ll just distract me, but I’m so relieved she’s here. She’s safe and out of the hands of my half-brother.
“I wrote to Saint, informing him of Serg’s plans.”
“What plans?” I ask, angered when I hear that son of a bitch’s name. “He has many.”
“I couldn’t care less what he does to you,” Max continues, revealing that his anger for me still resonates strongly. “But when he began circling the orphanage, I knew he was up to no good.”
“How do you know that?” I question, surprised.
“People talk, Alek. Just because they don’t talk to you doesn’t mean we don’t know what’s going on.”
I straighten my spine, refusing to give in to my urge to stab him in the jugular.
“Saint gave me his number, which I was to call only when there was an emergency. When I uncovered Serg talking to some benefactors of the orphanage, I guessed he had plans to steal it from Mother Superior.
“I couldn’t allow that to happen. Mother Superior was good to us. Good to…Sara.” It seems this is the first time he’s allowed himself to speak her name aloud.
“So, I called Saint. With no allies, you can’t fight him alone. And although we want you dead, we all have a common denominator. And that’s the orphanage. None of us want anything to happen to that place. Or Mother Superior,” Max says.
“I called Pavel and told him Saint and Willow were coming, and that’s when he informed me you would have known that if you’d read Willow’s postcard.”
Finally, I make eye contact with Willow. She stands by Saint, appearing regretful for her error. So it seems Saint wasn’t aware of her sending it as he would have never approved of her giving out those details so freely.
But she did that to help me—once again.
“But it apparently fell into the wrong hands. Lucky for us, I was in contact with Saint and Pavel. Otherwise, God forbid what would have happened.”
Max is right.
I trained Saint well—keep your friends close and your enemies even closer. He always had eyes on me, on Russia, as he knew he’d return one day.
Whether he likes it or not, we share a bond, and when he eyes me wickedly, it’s evident that it’s still a big not. But regardless, he’ll do what’s right. And that’s help to save the orphanage.
“Serg only just came to me with this idea,” I reveal, not understanding how Max knew of his plans before me.
“This has been in the pipeline for a long while. Your brother may be an indiscreet asshole, but he’s smart.”
Scoffing, I fold my arms across my chest. “Half-brother,” I correct, “and smart? I wouldn’t go as far as to call him that.”
“He outsmarted you, didn’t he?” Saint counters, arching a smug brow.
Ignoring his quip, I return my attention to Max. “So what do you propose we do? I’m assuming Pavel has informed you of what Serg wants? I’m assuming you know Serg wants me to force Mother Superior to sign the deed of the orphanage over to him so he can turn the place into a brothel.”
Willow frowns while Saint clenches his fists by his side.
“And if I don’t do what he wants, he’ll exploit an innocent child he’s holding hostage, a child who trusted me. And once that’s done, he’ll burn the orphanage with everyone still inside—but not before his men defile them all—to the ground. I assume you know all of this,” I snarl, peering around the room, wishing every person to know how personal this is to me.
Yes, this is my fault, but not one second goes by that I don’t blame myself.
“So next time, I’d think before you go around throwing the word smart and my half-brother into the same sentence.”
No one dares speak.
“I understand I ruined your lives,” I acknowledge. “For that, I can never apologize enough. But for this to work, we need to work together. Hate me, I don’t care. But don’t allow my past to stand in the way of saving innocent people who did nothing to deserve this.
“I can’t do this alone. I need your help. Mother Superior, the sisters, the children—they all need your help. Once this is done, you can all go on your way and forget I ever existed.”
“
We can never forget you exist. Trust me, I’ve tried,” Saint spits, leveling me with pure hatred.
And I intend to use that hate. “I want to speak to you in private.”
Willow’s eyes widen as she grips Saint’s forearm. But he nods.
“Lead the way, Popov.”
“I’m coming with you,” Willow says, but Saint’s anger soon simmers when he locks eyes with her.
“No, ангел, you stay here.”
When her brow puckers, he gently smooths out the creases with his thumb. “I won’t be long. Have something to eat. You must be hungry.” Before she can protest, he presses a kiss to her forehead.
The exchange is filled with nothing but love.
That soon changes as Saint pushes past me and out the back door.
Willow’s worried look begs I don’t hurt him. I’m hurt she’d think I would.
I follow Saint out the door, hopeful this doesn’t end in a bloodbath. He continues trekking through the yard, away from prying ears as he’s guessed what I want to discuss needs to be done in private. When we’re far enough, he stops and spins around.
“You come here, but do you have a plan?” I question, unthreatened by his hulking stance.
“You’re lucky we’re here at all,” he snarls.
“I’m thankful, but unless we have some sort of strategy, you being here is useless.”
Saint is the only person I enjoy sparring with this way. He is intelligent and insightful, and when pushed in just the right way, he becomes a mastermind. It’s how I crafted him into the ruthless man I still admire, regardless of our past.
“I didn’t think so,” I quip when he remains silent. “Listen to what I have to say, okay?”
Saint nods sharply.
“Irrespective of what you think, Ella is here of her own accord. I didn’t force her in any way.” I need Saint to know this. It somehow unburdens a small piece of my soul.
“She was pretending to be a sister at the orphanage to escape Santo Macrillo.” I don’t need to explain to Saint who Santo is. He is well aware of the power he holds.
“Santo wants her back. He knows she was at the orphanage, which is why he hired me to retrieve her.”
“Son of a bitch,” Saint utters under his breath. I don’t know if he’s speaking of me or Santo.
“He doesn’t know she’s here. He still believes she’s at the orphanage. If I do as he says, he will help me fight Serg. He will help rebuild my kingdom.”
“If this is supposed to be working in your favor, it’s not,” Saint spits, eyeing me angrily.
“But I cannot do that to her,” I reveal, rubbing the back of my neck, suddenly uncomfortable sharing this with the man who won the heart of the woman I wanted. “I have formed…an attachment to Ella. I simply can’t give her over like some cow at market.
“But if I don’t, then what becomes of Mother Superior? Serg was very clear in what he wanted. He doesn’t want me dead. He wants me to suffer, and he will take that suffering in any form he can.”
“So what’s your plan?”
“We make him think he’s won…and then we take him down,” I reveal, watching Saint’s defensive attitude relax slightly.
“How?”
“We make a deal with someone he trusts,” I reply, hoping like hell this works. “We’re not giving Serg what he wants, but rather, we’re giving someone else what he wants.”
“And what’s that?” Saint asks, running his fingers over his growth in thought. How I’ve missed plotting with him.
“Me,” I divulge, watching Saint catch up to speed. “Raul will have no qualms about making a deal with us, knowing the result will be my head at his feet.
“Serg trusts Raul, but all Raul wants is his revenge. We use this to our advantage. We trade me for Serg. We ask Raul for extra manpower to help us so we’re not outnumbered. Otherwise, it’ll be a bloodbath. Serg may want me alive, but the rest of you are disposable.
“I wish I could do this alone and not endanger your lives, but I can’t, and the moment I make my attack on Serg, his men will be on my ass. They’ll either kill me, or they’ll keep me prisoner. And I’d rather die than be that.
“I would have asked Pavel for some explosives, but I can’t risk Irina. And besides, Serg will have me searched. After Ingrid, he’s learned his lesson. We need the element of surprise on our side.
“We ask Raul to find out where Serg wants to meet, so we’re able to have the upper hand. No surprises. I get Serg alone, where he dies by my hand, and my hand alone. When the deed is done, I will go willingly with Raul to pay my dues.”
And there it is, my plan in a nutshell.
It came to me when speaking with Mother Superior.
“If what you say about your brother is true, then what can you give him which will make him surrender?”
It’s not what I can give him, but rather, what I can give Raul to have him play by my rules.
I know men like Raul because I was one. They’d do anything for revenge. Righting the wrongs is the only thing that gives them peace. And killing me for killing his father, he’ll do anything we want.
It’s a simple trade, one Raul will agree to. He’s been hunting me for so long, and now, he has me.
He has no loyalty to Serg. Serg is someone he does business with, and that’s all.
“He has to believe he’s won. Otherwise, he’ll hurt Irina. The little girl he’s holding hostage,” I explain. “He will only hand her over when he has the signed deed in his hand.”
“And what makes you think Raul won’t tell him this plan?” Saint questions, which is so like him—always thinking of every angle.
“Because my death means more to Raul than some stupid sibling rivalry. His loyalty to his father, to avenging him is the only thing he cares about. You should know how deep love and loyalty runs. Didn’t you sacrifice everything for Zoey? Willow?”
Saint clenches his jaw when I speak his dead sister’s name.
“Yes. You’re right,” he snarls, barely holding back his anger. “Raul will do anything to make you pay for what you did, but did you forget, I was the one forced to do your dirty work? I was the one who shot Chow. Not you.”
“On my order,” I state as this isn’t his doing. He was merely the instrument behind my command. “I know how these men work, Saint.”
“And you’re certain he’s still doing business with Serg?”
I nod confidently. “Yes, I know because Serg sent a spy, Renata, to infiltrate my life. She knew about Raul, information gained from firsthand experience. I have no doubt.”
Saint ponders everything I’ve told him. “This will work. Max will know where Raul is. He may have kept to himself all this time, but that doesn’t mean he wasn’t watching.”
Watching me suffer, he means. Max could have helped me, but he chose not to. I killed the woman he loved, and this was my karma for it.
“Yes, it’ll work. We need all the manpower we can get. Up against Serg, we’ll be outnumbered. But with Raul on our side, we can’t lose. No matter what Serg offers Raul, it’ll never be enough. I’m far more valuable to him than any sum of money. Or all the riches in the world.
“Serg won’t want me dead. He’s said so himself. He wants to make me suffer, and I can’t think of anything worse than keeping me alive as he destroys the people I love. Therefore, Serg and Raul will not make a deal. One wants me dead. The other alive. There are no gray areas.
“Will you help me?” I ask, knowing what this means. “Willow or Ella cannot know of this plan.”
I have no idea how I’ll keep this from Ella. She is resilient and smart, and sooner or later, she will discover what I plan to do.
The veins in Saint’s neck pulsate in rage because he knows if either Willow or Ella find out about what I intend to do, they’ll try to stop me. No matter what I did to Willow, she will always try to save me. And it kills Saint inside.
“You’re asking me to help deliver what you deserve?” he poses with a snicke
r. “You’re asking me to rid scum from this earth, scum who had no problem exploiting my very existence to live?”
Willow.
“You’re asking me to end your bloodline? Abso-fucking-lutely.”
“Very good.” I smile in response, pleased I can rely on him this one final time. “We’ll inform Pavel and Max of the plans, and then I shall await Serg’s call.
“Santo cannot know about Ella,” I warn. “I’ll arrange for Pavel to organize the documents for her to return home. I know I have no right to ask this of you, but will you ensure her safety when I’m gone?”
Saint doesn’t know Ella, and rightfully, he should tell me to go to hell. But Ella is innocent, which is why Saint nods.
“You have my word.”
“Excellent.” I sigh in relief.
I can accept my death, knowing she will be safe.
This plan allows everyone to be unharmed and for the person responsible for it all—me—to be held accountable.
“Oh, there is something else.”
Saint waits for me to continue.
“My mother and the woman who conspired with Serg, Renata, they too must pay for their crimes.”
“Yes, your mother deserves everything she’s got coming to her, but I won’t condemn a woman who knows no better. Who is she?”
Swallowing down the hypocrisy I’m about to spew, I reply, “She is Serg’s…plaything. A tool for him to do what he pleases. She’s brainwashed, which is why she had no issues doing what he ordered.”
Saint tips his face to the heavens, a bitter laughter leaving him. “Oh, so it seems you’re closer related than you wish to be. I mean, didn’t you do the same to my sister, the sister who lays buried under a tree because of you?”
He dares me to argue. But how can I?
“Yes, I did do that to Zoey.”
There’s no point apologizing because sometimes, sorry just isn’t enough.
“At least you accept culpability. Yes, Zoey was far from being an angel. She was unhinged, but meeting you only fueled her demons within,” he sneers, but it doesn’t lessen his pain. He will always blame her death on himself. That’s the type of man he is. “But that doesn’t bring her back.”
