My skin crawls when I grip his hand.
“Congratulations, brother,” he states, but all I can do is stare at him.
He should look more cut up than he does. But he looks like he already knew I’d be chosen.
“Thank you, brother.”
He’s about to say something when Father starts coughing.
We both look at him in the same moment he doubles over and a coughing fit takes him.
I’m the first to get to him, panic fueling my movements. He sinks to the ground and clutches his heart, taking shallow breaths.
“My… heart,” he stutters.
“Father,” I blurt, my mind racing. My eyes find Sophia, who’s rushed over to join us. “Call an ambulance. Now.”
She takes out her phone, dials for an ambulance, and starts speaking straightaway.
Father grabs my shirt and pulls me down so he can speak into my ear.
“Be a leader, son,” he whispers in a hurried staccato voice. “Be the man I raised you to be. I… know the truth.”
His eyes rivet to mine.
“You know the truth?” I whisper back with narrowed eyes.
“About your brother.”
Jesus Christ.
“You know?” I hiss.
He nods. “Somebody’s helping him. I don’t know who. Take them down for me.” He coughs again.
“Father.”
“Goodbye, son. It’s getting dark now.” He releases me and smiles. “I can see her now, Mikhail. Your mother. My angel. The ballerina. The other half of my soul. I’m going to be with her now.”
His lips stop moving, then he does, too.
My mind is so fractured I can’t think straight.
I hear sirens wailing but know they’re too late.
He’s dead.
My father is dead. Another parent died in my arms, and I’m helpless.
Rage fills me as his words fill my mind, twisting my insides and crushing the walls of my chest. I look around to where Ivan was standing only to realize he’s gone.
The motherfucking bastard left.
45
Natalia
Istare at Mikhail when I walk down the stairs.
