“It’s okay. I don’t … I don’t love my father. Not anymore. Do you think that makes me a bad person?”
“No, baby girl. I don’t even think that’s possible. You are everything good about our little messed-up family.”
And for the second time since she woke up, I caught a hint of a smile.
“Is that what we are? A family?”
I nodded. “Yes. And you’re the heart of it, so no more treating yourself badly. No more calling yourself defective. Your entire purpose in life is not to have babies.”
She cupped my cheek. “Then what’s my purpose?”
I honestly didn’t know. What did I know about life purposes? My early childhood was spent trying to please my hard-to-please son-of-a-bitch of a father. Early adulthood was trying to please a cold bitch of a wife and being a good father to my boys. Then I lost them, and I was stuck working in the cage to pay off Alina’s debt as she took my boys and ran.
Now?
I was trying to help bring the brotherhood into the best it could be. For us to be the most feared … and, fuck, to find my boys.
They were nine years old right now.
I thought back to what Mikhail’s mom had asked him.
I looked at Catalina. “Your purpose is to find peace and be happy. Can you do that for me?”
Her lower lips trembled. “That’s selfish.”
“To be happy?” I asked.
She nodded.
“Then be selfish, baby. Be fucking greedy. And don’t ever let anyone make you feel bad for it. Fuck, tell me if that is the case, and I will kill anyone who tries.”
She laughed.
“I’m serious,” I said.
Another laugh. “I know.”
I grunted and directed her head back to my chest. I looked up at the ceiling, parting her hair with my fingers and slowing my movement when I got to a tangle.
I eased it out.
“I was married once,” I said.
I felt her pause. I held her still when she tried to pull back and look at me. I didn’t want to look at her when I told her. My life story was a mystery to everyone, save for my brothers.
I liked it that way.
“My father was a foot soldier for the Solntsevskaya Bratva in Russia. There was a small branch of it to be run on the East Coast of the U.S., and we moved to New York so he could work for the one running the operation at the time, Sergei Kumarin. When Damien came into power, he took out Kumarin and took over most of his operation, though the Solntsevskaya Bratva is still very much active in Russia. I met Alina when I was seventeen, a year before I was supposed to initiate. Then she got pregnant at eighteen, and I didn’t want to be in the life when my kid was born. We married the weekend we found out she was expecting.
“I never initiated—and Alina hated that. She wanted a life filled with luxury, power, and money, and she believed the only way I could give that to her was if I became a part of the Bratva. Then, barely three months into the pregnancy, she miscarried. I didn’t know how I was supposed to feel about it. Relief? Heartbroken? Anger? Probably all those things. But we remained married, and she got pregnant again two years later. Twin boys. They were born one month after I turned twenty-one, and so fucking perfect, my heart hurt the first time I held them in my arms.”
“Where are they?” she asked, her voice set in a whisper. I heard her loud and clear though.
“I was working as a mechanic at the time. We weren’t rich, but we got by. Alina didn’t want that. She also had a gambling problem, and she racked up a lot of debts with a man named Luca Monroe.”
I felt her hands gripping the front of my shirt. Even she knew this story didn’t end well.
“I got caught up in paying her debt. Luca wasn’t a part of the Bratva, but he had connections. He helped them build weapons. But he was exceptional when it came to bomb-making. And he was compensated nicely for this particular talent. At the time, he had the manpower and the money, and there was no way I could have fought him. He also hosted cage matches.”