Gavriil (Stepanov Mafia)

“It varies,” I said, confused. Devin never cared about these kinds of details. I’d been taking care of our mother by myself for years, and he had never bothered to ask what our daily schedule looked like.

“Is it a big house?” he asked.

“About what you’d expect for someone who heads a mafia family.”

“Two-story? Split-level? Sprawling ranch?”

“It’s two stories with a basement. Maybe you can drop by for a tour sometime. I’m sure Gavril would love to tell you all about the architect who designed it,” I snapped.

Devin pulled back and wrinkled his forehead. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

I didn’t want to tell him. That wasn’t true. I didn’t want to have to tell him. For once, I wanted Devin to understand how and why he was being an inconsiderate asshole and modify his behavior accordingly. He was a grown man. It shouldn’t be my responsibility to teach him manners. Yet, I couldn’t help myself.

“You are more worried about the layout of his house than you are my wellbeing.”

Devin stared at me, mouth hanging open so long I thought drool would begin trickling down his chin. “Are you fucking serious?”

I didn’t know what to say. Obviously, I was serious.

Devin leaned forward, elbows on the table, fingers steepled beneath his chin. He glanced around the diner. It was small and mostly empty, which was no surprise since it was mid-morning on a weekday. When he appeared to feel certain no one was paying us any mind, he whispered, “I’m asking because I’m going to kill him.”

Realization rocked through me like a bolt of electricity. Of course. He’d asked about Gavril’s schedule and the layout of his house – all things he would need to know to stage a rescue attempt.

“No,” I said, feeling incapable of doing anything other than shaking my head and repeating the single word quietly to myself. Gavril would kill him. He wouldn’t hesitate. If Devin even expressed an interest in killing him, Gavril would execute him.

“I have to get you out of there,” he whispered back, his voice hoarse.

“You’ll be killed, Devin. He has too many guards and too much power. You don’t stand a chance. Please, trust me.” I reached across the table and placed my hand on his forearm. “It isn’t worth it.”

“People know my sister is living with Gavril. Do you know how embarrassing that is? That I let my little sister cover for me?”

I jerked my hand away. For a moment, I’d allowed myself to think that my brother cared. That in his messed up way, he was going to try and save me and make this situation right. But instead, as usual, he was worried about his own reputation. About his own embarrassment. About the way my sacrifice was reflecting upon him.

“Perhaps, I shouldn’t have gotten involved, then,” I said. “Maybe I should have just let Gavril kill you and be done with it. That would have been less embarrassing, right? Being murdered over $25,000 of stolen drugs? You’d be dead, but at least your reputation would be intact.”

“That’s not what I mean,” Devin said, running a hand down his face. “God, you are making this a much bigger deal than it is. I’m glad you did what you did, but now I need to fix it.”

“I fixed it!” I yelled, drawing the attention of the baristas working behind the counter. I lowered my voice again. “You are going to mess everything up again by getting involved and doing something stupid, and I can’t let you do it. You won’t only hurt yourself, but you could screw things up for Mom and me.”

“Screw things up for you?” he asked, eyebrows raised. “Like things aren’t already messed up?”

“Mom is getting better care than she has gotten in years, and I’m living in a mansion. And I know you think your life is a mess, but if you recall, you would’ve been dead two weeks ago if it wasn’t for me. So yes, I’m nervous you’ll screw everything up.”

Devin shook his head and wagged a finger at me. “This isn’t you. You’ve been brainwashed or something. He has warped your mind and turned you against your family.”

“I’m not brainwashed, Dev. But I recognize a good thing when I have it. Life has been hard for so long, and now I am as close to happy as I’ve been.”

“You are a slave, Samantha.”

“Do slaves get to go out for coffee in the middle of the afternoon? Do slaves get home cooked meals and seen by the best doctors in the city? Because if so, call me a slave. I love it.”

“Doctors?” he asked, forehead wrinkled. “Why have you been seen by a doctor?”

I bit my lower lip. I hadn’t meant to let that slip out just yet, but I had to tell him. Devin needed to know the full story. If he knew I was pregnant, he wouldn’t kill Gavril. He wouldn’t leave me a single mother with no source of income. He’d see that I needed Gavril and he’d leave the whole situation alone.