Total pages in book: 148
Estimated words: 147734 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 739(@200wpm)___ 591(@250wpm)___ 492(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 147734 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 739(@200wpm)___ 591(@250wpm)___ 492(@300wpm)
“How do you know he is?”
“Saw him laughing when he was FaceTiming a girl in secret.”
“He could be bi like you.”
“Nah, didn’t sense the vibes. Anyway, I’m not interested in him whatsoever.”
“Good. He’s bad news.”
“I’m bad news, too!”
“Not as bad as he is.”
“Cyrus, on the other hand…” He whistles. “I love guys who are so put together. I wonder what it’d take to make him crumble.”
“How do you know he’s not straight?”
“Just a hunch, I guess?”
I drop the barbell he’s pressing, and he struggles to hold it up. My eye twitches, and a spark of agitation ripples through my stomach, spreading like wildfire.
It takes me a few moments to regain my composure. “What type of hunch, Niko?”
“Queer men things. Not something you’d understand. Cy is queer, in a sense. Not sure what yet, but I’ll find out.”
“Did he give you permission to call him that?”
“Call him what?”
“Cy. Only Yulian calls him that. None of the others on their side dares to.”
“It’s cuter than Cyrus.”
“Ever thought maybe that’s the reason he wouldn’t want practical strangers to call him by his nickname?”
“Meh. It’s just a name.”
I grab the bar from him and set it down with a clank. “Have you figured out why he’s being fostered by Yulian’s dad?”
“I know it started, like, two years ago, because he moved in with Yulian’s family when he was fourteen, and he’s sixteen now.”
“Did he mention bloodline relations with the Dimitrievs or any reason why they’d take him in?”
“No. He changed the subject when I asked him.”
Of course he did. It was a long shot to have Niko investigate anyway.
“Buuut, Yulian said Cy is his brother from another mother—figuratively, I assume.” He sits up. “Also, the dad is here.”
“The dad?”
“Yulian’s dad. The leader dude from Chicago? He showed up when we were fighting, and everyone on the other side looked terrified. Maybe Yulian lost because of that.”
“Yaroslav is here?”
“Yeah, whatever his name is.”
“Why the fuck didn’t you say that earlier, Niko?”
“Didn’t think it was important.”
That tracks.
Nothing except for violence and sex is important to Nikolai.
I rush out of the gym, wishing I had access to my phone so I could message Dad.
Yaroslav wasn’t supposed to show up at the camp. Neither is my dad.
Hell, even the upper echelons of both organizations shouldn’t come here.
I have a bad feeling about Yaroslav’s sudden appearance.
It takes me a while to reach Yulian’s room, which he shares with Cyrus.
This camp might have been started to bring us together, but we’ve both kept interacting mostly with our respective sides of the fence. We even eat at separate tables. I work out either alone or with Niko. Yulian works out with Cyrus or their men.
We only really get together in classes or when Yulian and Niko are fighting.
My feet come to a halt near the closed door. Some muffled noises are coming from inside, but I can’t really make them out.
So I head to the next room and sneak inside. It’s a mentor’s, but he’s out grocery shopping today.
I slide to the balcony and jump across to Yulian’s, careful and silent.
Through the ajar glass balcony door, I can clearly see him standing in the middle of the room.
Yaroslav Dimitriev. The man whom even my dad thinks twice about before stepping into his territory.
He looks similar to Yulian, but his hair is a lighter blond, and both his eyes are pale, icy blue—like Yulian’s left eye. A beard shadows his face, and he’s unnaturally tall and bulky, his frame threatening to tear through the seams of his gray three-piece suit.
That’s where the similarities end. Yulian’s skin is warmer, his features sharper, his face undeniably more striking. From my research, I learned his mother came from a minority ethnic group in the North Caucasus, which explains the darker complexion, the almond-shaped eyes, the quiet beauty that sets him apart from his father’s brutish presence.
I flatten myself against the wall next to the glass door and remain still.
This is risky, and Yaroslav will have my balls if he figures out I’m spying on him, but this will likely be my only opportunity to get some information about him and his Bratva, so I can’t miss the chance.
Besides, he shouldn’t be here, and I need to find out why he chose to ignore that rule and the consequences.
“Twenty punishments in a month.” Yaroslav’s gruff voice carries through the room as he counts on his hand. “Smoking, drugs, loss of focus, wandering around without security, not improving learning skills.” He switches to the other hand. “Fighting without supervision, poor results on intellectual tests, average strategizing, spending too much time on meaningless activities.”
“Actually, I was making a bomb—”
Slap!
My muscles tighten as the harsh sound of flesh against flesh echoes in the room. Yaroslav hits his son so hard, he falls on the wooden floor, coughing.
Something in my chest twists when Yulian paints a smile on his cut lips and jumps up again, dusting his shirt off as if the hit were nothing.