The only person who told me ‘no’ these days was my niece.
The two-year-old greeted me by the door. Evva Fattakhov was dressed in a green pinafore with cream stockings and fluffy unicorn-patterned socks. Her hair was in two little pigtails, ribbons holding them together.
“’Ello, Uncle Kostya.”
“Evva,” I greeted. I had made sure to clean my hands at the banya before returning home. My niece deserved a few more years of innocence. “You look very cute today. Going somewhere special?”
She shook her head. “Nooo.”
There were few reasons I continued my existence; continued to behave and take part in society. My niece was one of them.
The night she had been born, the entire estate had shaken with Roksana’s screams. I remembered feeling fear for the first time in months, my grief suspended for long enough that I could tend to the woman I considered family. All the men, besides Artyom, had waited in the hall, ears pressed to the walls.
Then at 6:16 am, just as the sun had begun to color the world, Evva Fattakhov had decided to join us. She had been tiny, delicate, but her grip had been ferocious. She had the soul of a warrior–just like her parents. But more importantly, beside her mother and father, I was the only one she would let hold her.
Even now, Evva stretched her arms up, bending her knees. “Up?”
“Where are your manners, my darling?” Roksana swept into the foyer, dressing gown fluttering around her.
“Pleeease.” Evva made sure to enunciate the entire word for her mother. That girl had mischief in her blood.
Never one to deny her, I swept Evva into my arms. She giggled in delight.
“How has your day been?” I asked her.
“Good,” Evva babbled. She told me at length about how she had pancakes for breakfast, played with Anton, and hung out with her mother. Her words were awkward and mostly gibberish, but well-placed ‘oh, really?’s satisfied her that I was listening.
“Are Danika and Roman with you?” Roksana asked the second Evva stopped to take a breath.
“They’re in the car fighting,” I mused.
I had left them sitting in silence. But as soon as I had closed the car door, the raised voices had begun.
Evva lifted her head. “Auntie Dani? Uncle Rom?”
“Yes, my darling,” Roksana replied. To me she said, “Artyom wants to see the entire family in the study. He didn't say why.”
Study? I racked my brain over what Artyom would want with all of us. Perhaps an intervention was in my future.
It could be about anything. From the drugs, to the interrogations, to the fact that Danika had decided to join me when talking to Titus’s men.
Some part of me looked forward to my meetings with Artyom. Each day I woke up wondering if today was the day my brother was going to kill me and take my crown. Perhaps if it hadn’t been for Roksana and Evva, he would’ve already.
A shadow stepped up from the top of the stairs, interrupting the conversation. Dmitri's blue eyes scanned the foyer, glowing like currents of electricity. He didn't say anything some days. He went the entire day without making a single noise. like his lips were frozen together and his tongue was a heavy ice block between his teeth.
“Boss,” he greeted. “We're meeting in the study.”
“Very well. Roksana, can you go please and fetch our troublesome duo.”
Roksana disappeared outside while I met Dmitri at the top of the stairs. His lips were pressed into a tight line, his apathetic mask strangely emotive.
I rose my eyebrows at him. “Something you want to say?”
“No.” Dmitri rubbed his mouth, a show of anxiety. “I think Artyom better be the one to tell you.”
My patience was dwindling quickly. “Is that so?”
I had known Dmitri since he was a young man and it wasn’t difficult for me to spot his sudden discomfort.
Maybe, I remarked inwardly, I had been right about this being an intervention.
Artyom wasn’t in the study; instead he was waiting outside in the hallway. His eyes went straight to Evva, who smiled at her father.
“Put my daughter down, Kostya,” he stated calmly.
I didn’t move. Evva seemed content in my arms. “What is the meaning of this. I have things to do, brother.”
Artyom didn’t react. “Put Evva down.”
Voices came up behind us, but they quietened once they saw the three of us in the hallway.
“Is everything okay?” Roksana asked.
“Evva needs to leave.” Artyom didn’t sound like a husband when he spoke to Roksana, or even a father. He sounded like the man I had slaughtered my way to the top with.
I pressed a delicate kiss to the top of Evva’s head and passed her to her mother. Roksana stepped back immediately with her baby in her arms, her eyes dancing between Artyom and I with blinding speed.
I wasn’t so quick in my movements. I turned back to him, each action deliberate and slow. Like a snake peering out of its hiding spot, prey in sight and fangs at the ready.
“What is the meaning of this, Artyom? Have you finally gotten a penchant for the dramatics?”
“We need to have this discussion privately,” he ventured. “It is...it is a delicate matter.”
Dmitri muttered something under his breath. It sounded like no shit.
I gestured to the study. “Lead the way.”
The tension in the room was palpable as we filled it. All the residents of the estate joined Artyom and I, besides Roksana and the children. Everyone quickly scattered to various seats as I leaned back in my office chair.
Artyom stood before me, as still and unmovable as a great statue.
“Care to explain the reason for your dramatics, brother?" I asked softly.
He did not reply.
“What the fuck is going on, Artyom?” Roman asked from the wall where he leaned. Danika was cross-legged by his feet, eyes wide. “Why are you being so coy?”
Dmitri glared at Roman to shut up.
Dmitri knew what Artyom was trying to tell me, I understood immediately. Artyom and Dmitri had banded together. Would they take turns trying to kill me or would it be an act of camaraderie?
The second shared look between them began to grate on my nerves. I was growing tired of this game.
“What has happened, Artyom?” The order in my tone was clear. He may be planning on usurping me but I was still his Pakhan and he would heed my command.
Artyom looked at the door, like he could see his wife and daughter through the mahogany.
“Just say it,” came Dmitri’s icy voice.
“Yes, Artyom,” I repeated. “Just say it.”
I had known Artyom since we were children. I couldn’t remember a time when he wasn’t at my side, when he didn’t have my back. We had always been thick as thieves, even when our family slowly grew larger and larger. The truth and honesty were something we had always valued between each other.
Artyom being so secretive didn't fill me with a sense of delight. Instead, I felt my hands nearing toward my weapon...just in case...
“She called me.”
The three words dropped like stones.
She called me.
Roman started forward first. “Why? Is she okay? Where is she–?”
“She’s in danger and needs our help. I said we could help her.” Artyom didn’t take his eyes off me. “I intend to.”