this further. We don’t have time to waste—we never did—but I guess during the time I’ve been pretending I’ve lost my memories, I was hoping to unravel something from him and not have to do this.
Desperate times call for desperate measures.
I get in the car first and fasten my seatbelt, then type a text to Vlad.
Rai: Are you free?
Vladimir: Depends on the reason.
Rai: What if I told you I can get you the one who knows about the Irish’s plans?
Vladimir: Then I can carve out time.
Rai: You might have to torture the answers out of him.
Vladimir: You say that as if it’s a chore.
I know full well it isn’t. Vlad specializes in torturing, and it’s one of the reasons why he has a scary reputation. He’s the type who doesn’t stop until he gets answers. Maybe this is why I didn’t want the situation to reach this level.
Kyle climbs into the driver’s seat, and I hide my phone. My fingers brush against the small bottle I’ve been keeping on me since I got out of the hospital. I knew I would have to do this sooner or later.
The vehicle doesn’t move and silence is the only other occupant in the car. I sneak a peek at him and pause at the overly concentrated expression. He’s watching too intently, as if it’s the first time he’s seeing my face.
“What?”
“Just watching how beautiful you are.”
Even though I try hard not to be affected, I can feel the burning in my cheeks. I clear my throat. “Didn’t you say we were going for lunch?”
“We will after I get my fill of you.”
“I don’t know what you’re doing, but it’s not going to work.”
He raises a brow. “Do you want to bet?”
“I don’t need to, because I’m one hundred percent sure I never cared about you.”
“You’re so certain for someone who doesn’t remember.”
“I don’t have to remember to be sure of it, I just feel it.”
“Hmm.” He pauses, tilting his head to the side as if he wants to get a better look at me. “Do you know what you used to tell me in the past?”
“I don’t want to know.” Every memory I have with him is filled with anguish and sadness.
“But I want to tell you.” He takes my hand in his. My skin crawls at how he’s touching me with the same hands he’s been planning to kill my family with. “You used to say I’m closed off and I never show you my true self.”
“Oh, really?” I try to keep the sarcasm out of my voice.
“I guess I didn’t want you to learn about my lowly beginnings. When I first came to the brotherhood, I was rejected by my godfather. I talked about him once—he was the man who raised me after my parents died. So in a way, he was the only person I considered family. What I didn’t tell you is that in my screwed-up attempt to keep that family close, I’ve done something that can’t be forgotten or forgiven. I’m actually still surprised he didn’t kill me, considering he has no tolerance for traitors. In a way, he didn’t really forgive me, just sent me on my way, which was a worse punishment than death to the younger me. I roamed around for a few years, then found myself here, at Nikolai’s. He was an old acquaintance of Godfather and me since we used to kill for him a long time ago, before you came along,”
“Is your godfather’s name Ghost?” I murmur.
A rare grin I’ve never seen on Kyle’s face loosens his expression, making him appear younger, less guarded. “You know him.”
“Everyone in the Bratva does. Dedushka used to mention his name among the inner circle. He’s the hitman my grandfather worked with the most. He used to say Ghost kills without leaving a trace behind and is the best at what he does.”
“He is. We are.”
“So you belong to the same organization as him?”
“I do.”
I want to probe him some more, but I could slip with what I already know about his organization. So I remain silent, hoping he will be the one to continue talking.
The way he spoke about his godfather—Ghost—is so different from anything he’s spoken about before. It’s clear that he shares a connection with the man to the point that he calls him family. But he mentioned doing something unforgivable, so maybe that’s the reason he’s barely talked about Ghost before.
This is one of the few times Kyle has opened up about