Chapter 7: Beautiful Scar: Chapter 7

Arsen puts a cup of coffee down in front of me and slides another across the table to Aunt Sona. She accepts it with a curt nod and purses her lips to blow some steam off the top.

It’s strange. Not all that long ago, Sona would’ve happily stabbed Arsen in the throat and smiled as he bled out. Now she’s one of his top advisors and most important members of the Brotherhood, and he’s making her coffee.

“How’s the wife?” Arsen asks, settling himself down into his seat. We’re clustered at one end of a conference room in the skyscraper the Brotherhood owns. Baltimore’s spread out below us like little plastic toys.

“Getting used to things,” I tell him because that’s all I know. Last night after getting home, I decided to give her time to herself. That trip was obviously a lot for her, and I figured she needed a little space to settle herself down.

“Going to be hard getting used to you,” Aunt Sona says, smiling as she flips open a folder. “I feel for the girl.”

“Thank you for that vote of confidence,” I grumble.

“Anytime. But this is good. I have some numbers here from the Zeitsevs, and they’re better than we expected.” She slides some pages over to Arsen. They look like dense spreadsheets. “They’re importing more than we realized. Once we tap into that flow, we’ll have some serious cash to push out onto the streets.”

That’s Aunt Sona. Both accountant and ruthless general. She may be the oldest person at the table by thirty years, but she knows her business, and she’s not soft about it.

“You’re going to have to summarize for me,” Arsen says, frowning at the tables.

“Read it yourself,” she says, nudging it closer. “You need to know these things, patron.”

He sighs heavily and starts skimming. I look down at my own copy, and my eyes glaze over. This shit’s not beyond me, but it does bore me to tears.

That’s why we’re a good team. Sona’s the brains. She makes the plans and puts together the spreadsheets. Money flows in, and money flows out, and she keeps it all accounted for.

Arsen’s the vision. He’s got a grand idea for how the Brotherhood should operate and expand. He’s a good politician and the sort of man people want to follow. That’s what holds the Brotherhood together, even if he doesn’t realize it.

Then there’s me. I’m the knife.

I stab what needs stabbing until it’s twitching and bleeding out.

“Valentin seemed pleased when we spoke,” Arsen says, rubbing his face with both hands. “If this is accurate, we’re in good shape.”

“It’s accurate,” Sona says primly, as if she’s never been wrong in her life. “This alliance is going to be hugely beneficial to everyone, assuming we can bury all the old prejudices.”

“Which is where I come in.” I stretch back in my chair. “Me and my blushing bride.”

“Assuming you don’t scare her off, yes, that’s correct.”

I glare at Sona. “Why do you seem so convinced I’m going to mess this up?”

“Because from what I hear, the girl’s a shut-in. She’s inexperienced, buttoned-up, and the opposite of you in every way. You have a habit of stomping around when subtlety would go a long way.”

“That’s enough,” Arsen says, sounding tired.

It’s not like I haven’t heard this before. Sona and I have been butting heads lately.

She thinks my methods are a little too bloody.

I think she’s going soft.

“My marriage isn’t your concern,” I say, glaring at her.

“Actually, it literally is. Your marriage is the concern of the entire Bratva.” She leans forward, lowering her voice. “Have you started to fulfill the full contract yet?”

My jaw works as I wrestle with my fury. “I’m not going to talk to some old woman about my sex life.”

She sniggers at me. “Typical. The second you get backed into a corner, out come the old comments. When will you find new insults?”

“Around the same time you dig a heart from that frozen wasteland of a chest.”

“Enough,” Arsen says sharply. “Sona, ease off. Tigran, stop taking her bait. You two are unbelievable sometimes.”

I glare at her, and she smiles back. “He knows I’m only teasing. Right, Tigran-jan?”

“Of course, Sona-jan.” I show her my teeth. “You’re always full of jokes and smiles.”

Arsen groans and finishes his coffee. “Sona, double-check these numbers and start talking to the Zeitsevs about setting up shipments. We also need to look into increasing security at our warehouse sites. The Irish have been making a lot of noise. They’re pretty unhappy about this arrangement.”

“Can’t blame them,” I say, forcing myself to let go of my frustration with Sona. “We’re going to muscle them into nothing.”

“Smother them with commerce, you mean,” Sona says.

“Cut their throats,” I snap back.

“I swear if you two fucking start again, I’m going to cut your throats,” Arsen says, slamming a hand down. He visibly calms himself before looking at me. “Make sure your new wife’s comfortable, all right? I want to come meet her soon.”

“Give her a few days.”

“Fine. And you understand your duty?”

“Yes, brother. Fuck the girl and knock her up.”

Arsen grimaces and nods. His face softens. “Fuck her and knock her up,” he agrees. “You know how much this means to the family, don’t you? And how much it means to me, in particular?”

“You’ve told me.”

“And I’ll keep saying it. I know you never wanted a wife or kids. I know this wasn’t how you saw your life going. But this sacrifice is going to help make the Brotherhood stronger. We owe you, Tigran.”

I nod sharply at him and glance at Sona. For once, she’s got nothing to say, only a thoughtful frown on her face.

Sacrifice. Ah, hell. When I walked into that chapel, that’s exactly what I was thinking.

How it was like putting my neck up on the altar and waiting for the priest to chop off my skull.

But now that Dasha’s in my house, I don’t know how I feel about it anymore.

The plane ride was strange. When she looked a little pale, I forced her to eat. Not because it made my life easier—even though it was better to let her think that—but because I was worried about her.

Deeply, obsessively worried.

Then there was the landing. I could tell she was about to panic, and I just acted. I grabbed her smooth little hand and held it.

I comforted her for no other reason than I wanted to.

Like some fucking idiot.

All my life I’ve drifted through relationships. Women come, they go, they never stick around because they mean nothing to me. I’ve never wanted children, a marriage, any of that white picket fence bullshit.

Life is fundamentally meaningless.

Except now I have Dasha, and I can’t stop the little voice in my head from thinking about her.

It’s like some stupid, protective switch got thrown, and now I’m a mess.

We finish the meeting with more logistical discussions. Mostly Sona runs things, but I get more involved when we circle back around to the Irish.

Arsen and Sona are both concerned, but they don’t see the threat as acutely as I do.

I’m boots on the ground. My world’s the streets, and my life is the soldiers. What they’re hearing is what I’m hearing, and there are whispers all over Baltimore.

The McGraths are going to make a move. It’s only a matter of time.

As the meeting breaks up, I step into the hall, eager to get back home. I want to check and make sure that Dasha’s okay. I called Vito earlier, and he assured me that the guards are keeping an eye on her and that she hasn’t stepped foot out of her rooms.

“Tigran, just a second.” Aunt Sona hurries to catch up to me. I jab at the elevator call button, hoping to make it come faster. Damn machines never work when I really need them.

No luck. She gives me an aggrieved look but doesn’t comment on my escape attempt.

“What can I do for you?” I ask her, not hiding my reluctance.

“I know I’m giving you a hard time, but Arsen’s right.” Sona’s lips press together. “Your marriage to Dasha Zeitsev is important.”

I grunt in reply. That’s about the nicest thing Sona’s said to me in months. “I’m aware you think I’m going to fuck it up, but I’ll do my duty. I always have.”

“I know that.” She steps into the elevator when the doors open. I follow her inside, and we ride down together. “There’s a big meeting of the Brotherhood in a few days. I want you to bring her.”

“That’s not a good idea.”

“I know she’s shy. I understand that she’s been something of a recluse⁠—”

“That’s an understatement. The girl fainted during our wedding. She hasn’t been outside of her father’s house in twelve years.”

Sona’s frown tightens. I swear, that woman’s expression is locked in that annoyed glare. “Regardless, she needs to be seen. Everyone in the Brotherhood leadership will feel better about the alliance if they realize Dasha’s just a person instead of the avatar of the evil Russians. Do you understand?”

“Humanize her. I get it. But I still don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“Trust me, it’s our best option. It’ll go a long way.”

The doors slide open. I’m tempted to tell her to shove her spreadsheets up her tight ass and fuck off, but she was slightly nice to me a second ago. And she’s probably right about letting the other heads of the family see Dasha.

“Fine. I’ll get her there. But I can’t promise she’ll ever show up again.”

“So long as you do it this one time, that’ll be fine.” Sona nods at me curtly before striding off.

Well, shit.

Dasha’s not going to like this.

But we’d better learn to play the game now that we’re important pieces.