Twilight Sins (Kulikov Bratva Book 1)

“Mariya.”

I say her name, but my brain still isn’t processing. She can’t be here. She’s supposed to be half a world away.

Mariya rushes forward and throws her arms around my middle. “I can’t believe this is happening. It’s been so long.”

I pat her back in a daze. “Three years.”

Three long years that feel even longer when Mariya steps back and I get a good look at her.

The last time I saw her in person, she was fourteen. She had knobby knees and braces and frizzy hair she didn’t know what to do with. She was a child. Now…

“You’ve grown up.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.” She laughs and pushes a suitcase towards me. “What does a girl have to do around here to get a little help with her bags?”

I wheel the suitcases inside and my doorman, Heinrich, sleepily makes his way towards us down the hall.

“I saw your arrival on the doorbell camera, Miss Mariya.” He yawns and dips his head in a formal greeting. “It’s been a long time. It’s good to have you back.”

“It’s good to be back. You can take these to my room, Heinrich.”

After a silent confirmation from me, Heinrich does as Mariya asked. Three years away, but she still remembers how to order around the staff. Some things never change.

“This place hasn’t changed a bit.” She spins in a circle, taking in every detail. “Is my room exactly the same? I hope so. I’ve missed it. Not the butterfly wallpaper, but the bed. My mattress here was always so much more comfortable. Russians can’t make mattresses for shit.”

I drag a hand down my face, rubbing sleep and alcohol out of my eyes. “How did you get here, Mariya?”

“There was a driver waiting for me at the airport. Nice touch, by the way. I felt very welcomed.”

“I didn’t hire a driver. I would have sent Nik to pick you up.” If I’d had any idea you were coming. Nor do I have any intention of letting you stay.

She shrugs. “Mom must have done it then. She’s the one who booked my ticket.”

Fuck. The string of missed calls earlier tonight suddenly makes a lot more sense. My mother was calling to warn me. She conveniently waited until it was too late to undo it. Mariya’s plane was probably touching down when she decided to fill me in.

Mariya waltzes into the kitchen and opens the fridge. “Your snack options are bleak. Is there sparkling water in the drink fridge?”

“What did Mother tell you before you left?” I ask.

“‘Bye.’” Mariya dabs at her eyes and waves, doing a fairly good impression of our mother. Then she laughs. “She didn’t say shit. She packed up my suitcases and handed me a ticket.”

“You have friends back home. Did you really want to leave all of them?”

“That place isn’t home,” she says. “This is home. Being with you and Nik is home.”

I can’t come up with a kind way to tell her that she has no fucking idea what she’s signing up for. We haven’t all been together in years. There’s a reason for that. Several, actually.

“What about Mother? She’ll miss you.”

“She was crying at the airport, but she’s been wanting to do this for months. She isn’t going to miss me.”

“Don’t be stupid.”

She whips her dark hair over her shoulder and I notice for the first time that she has purple and red highlights underneath. “I’m not being stupid. She doesn’t want me around. I can tell. Mom has never been any fun. It only got worse after everything with Dad.”

“She was trying to keep you safe.”

“Then she made a great choice in sending me here,” she says. “No place on Earth is safer than this house. Daddy made sure of it.”

I grind my molars together and stand up. “There’s a lot you don’t know. A lot has changed.”

“Like what?”

“It’s safer for you if you don’t know.” How many times have I said that in the last two weeks? “It’s also safer for you if you aren’t here. It’s good to see you, but I’m putting you on the first plane back to Moscow tomorrow morning.”

Mariya slams the fridge closed and spins to me. “No.”

“It’s not a discussion.”

She narrows her eyes at me. “I’m not going back. I just got here.”

“You shouldn’t have come in the first place,” I snap.

“Believe me, I know all about how much you don’t want me here, Yakov. But not everything is about you!”

“Nothing is about me,” I snarl impatiently as my hands tighten into fists. “It’s all about the Bratva. It’s always been about the Bratva.”

“Is that why I haven’t seen you in three years? Because you’ve been too busy with the Bratva?” She crosses her arms and turns away, trying to hide the fact that her chin is wobbling. “You never talked to me on the phone. You’d talk to Mom and hang up before I could say anything. I should have taken it as a sign that you don’t want me around.”

“This has nothing to do with you, Mariya. It’s about keeping you all safe.”

“Maybe I’d rather be in danger and with my family? Have you ever thought about that? Probably not. I’m sure you don’t relate.”

An emotion I’m not used to slices through me.

Guilt.

When our mother left with Mariya, I let them go. It was easier that way. I was picking up my father’s mantle, figuring out how to lead the men, and navigating his death. I had enough to deal with. Having the women of my family on another continent made things easier…

For me.

It clearly didn’t make things easier for my sister.

Exhaustion rests heavily on my shoulders. I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Let’s go to sleep and talk about this in the morning.”

“There’s nothing to talk about, Yakov. I’m staying.”

“We’ll talk in the morning,” I grit out.

Mariya crosses her arms. “I’ll run away before I go back to Moscow.”

“Mariya! Bed! Now!”

She flinches, but recovers quickly. Her eyes narrow. “Yes, Father.”

She’s mouthing off, but it stings. I don’t need yet another reminder that he isn’t here. My life is filled with them right now.

The moment Mariya stomps down the hall to her room, I pull out my phone and call my mother. “I tried to warn you,” she blurts before I can get a word in.

“Calling me fifteen minutes before she’s on my doorstep isn’t a fucking warning.”

“I know, but I—” Her voice wavers. “I couldn’t do it anymore, Yakov. The stress of trying to take care of her was killing me. She needs structure. She needs a male figure in her life.”

Yes, Father.

I shake off the memory. “I’m not her father. I’m her brother.”

“You’re the closest thing she has, Yakov,” she says softly. “You’re all she has. She needs you.”

My father raised me to be able to carry on after he was gone. My purpose has always been to lead the Bratva and take care of the family.

This is just another piece of that.

I’m all they have.

“I’ll handle it,” I tell her.

I don’t have another choice.