Twilight Sins (Kulikov Bratva Book 1)

I stand by the window in Yakov’s room and watch lights move up the driveway.

Nikandr and Mariya got back half an hour ago. I could hear their muffled voices in the kitchen, so I stayed in my room.

You’ve done enough.

I can’t get Yakov’s voice out of my head. He looked at me like I was as bad as Sergey. Like I handed Mariya to Sergey and his friend on a silver platter.

In some ways, I might as well have.

That’s the last time I take Mariya’s word for anything. Whatever she tells me is going to be double- and triple-confirmed next time.

If there is a next time.

I shove that thought aside as I watch Yakov climb out of his car and storm in. The front door slams open and the screaming begins immediately. Whatever Yakov has been up to for the last thirty minutes, it didn’t do a thing to calm him down.

“Just listen to me!” Mariya yells.

But Yakov doesn’t take orders from anyone. “I saved your ass tonight, Mariya. I have a fucking price on my head, but I was out there saving you. Both of us could have been killed.”

He has a price on his head? Someone is trying to kill him?

This is news to me, but Mariya seems to blow right past it. “Creepy guys exist everywhere. Am I supposed to stay in some isolated bubble because men are perverted?”

“You’re supposed to have a guard with you at all times,” Nik interjects. “Someone is supposed to know where you are so we can stop things before you’re getting groped on some pedophile’s couch!”

“Fuck the guards,” Yakov barks. “You’re going to be locked up so tight you’ll wish you were in a bubble. Your phone is gone, your laptop is gone, anything you could use to reach anyone outside of this house is gone.”

“That’s not fair!” Mariya shrieks.

“Life isn’t fair. If it was, you’d be back at that crackhouse of an apartment, paying the consequence for your unbelievably stupid decision tonight.”

She gasps. “You think I deserved that?”

“I think actions have consequences. You’re lucky I’m the one dishing out the consequences and not fucking Ryder.”

I sit cross-legged in the middle of the bed facing the door and listen as Yakov and Mariya yell back and forth for what feels like hours. Finally, when Mariya’s voice is hoarse from screaming, Yakov picks her up and carries her into her room. I only know he locked the door because she begins pounding on it a few seconds after I hear it close.

I’m next.

I brace myself for Yakov to tear through my door and yell at me the way I deserve. I wait and wait… but Yakov never comes.

The house gets quiet and I’m still alone. Still sitting in the middle of the bed, staring at the door. In some ways, that’s worse.

At least if he was yelling, I’d have proof he cared.

As the hours tick by and the silence outside the bedroom door carries on—even Mariya finally stops banging on her door and goes to sleep—I feel more alone than I have in a long time.

I thought once Yakov got Mariya back safe and sound that things would get better. He’d be mad, but we could move on from this. He could forgive me.

Maybe there is no forgiveness for this. Maybe I messed up for the final time.

I lie on the bed for a while, clutching my roiling stomach until I bolt from the bed and drop to my knees in front of the toilet. There’s nothing in my gut except one stupid drink. Once the bile is gone, I heave over and over again. But there is no relief. My stomach is still churning when I make my way back to the bedroom and curl up on Yakov’s side of the bed.

Tonight was stressful. For all of us.

Things will be better in the morning, promises a little voice in my head.

I close my eyes and try desperately to believe the lie.

The smell of bacon pulls me from bed the next morning.

Not because I want breakfast; I’m still nauseous from last night. No, it’s the promise of Yakov standing in the kitchen with a spatula in one hand and a skillet in the other that gets me on my feet.

I walk down the hallway craving even one sliver of normalcy I can cling to. Things can’t be so bad if Yakov is making breakfast.

Then I turn the corner and my flimsy hopes turn to ash.

“Good morning,” Hope says, a forcefully cheerful smile on her face. “I’m making Mariya something to eat. Do you want anything?”

As if the smell of the bacon wasn’t bad enough, the sight of cracked eggs sitting in the bowl next to the stove almost pushes me over the edge.

I fight against a retch and shake my head. “No, I’m okay. Thanks.”

Hope pours the eggs into the skillet and says softly, “You should eat something. After the night you had.”

“News travels fast around here.”

“Yakov’s voice travels faster,” she mutters.

Great. Now, everyone in the mansion knows how much I fucked up. If they weren’t already lifelong members of Team Yakov, they will be now that I almost got him and his sister killed.

I stare at the countertop while Hope finishes cooking, breathing through my mouth to avoid too many breakfast smells. Throwing up on the counter wouldn’t put me on the staff’s good side, either.

When Hope finally slides eggs, bacon, and toast onto a plate, I stand up. “I’ll take that to Mariya if you want.”

Hope pulls the plate closer to her chest like I might steal it and run. “I’m not sure if Mr. Kulikov would want⁠—”

“As long as we stay in the house, I don’t think Yakov cares.”

Lie. If he was talking to me right now, he’d probably tell me to stay as far as humanly possible away from his sister.

Hope chews on her lower lip.

“Tell him I overpowered you if it makes you feel better,” I offer.

“He hasn’t given us any orders where you’re concerned,” she says finally, handing over the plate. “Until he does, this seems okay to me.”

“Will I need a key?”

“Mr. Kulikov unlocked her room early this morning.”

That’s a good sign. For Mariya, at least.

I try not to let the dread pool in my empty stomach as I knock on Mariya’s bedroom door.

“Go away,” she snaps immediately.

I knock again. “It’s me.”

There’s a beat of silence where I think the entire family might be icing me out. They’re just going to pretend I don’t exist until I give up and leave.

Then the door opens wide.

Mariya is already walking back to bed, so I follow her inside and close the door behind me.

She slides under her blankets and curls on her side. “I’m not hungry.”

“Me, neither,” I admit. I set the plate of food on her dresser and lean against the drawers. “Last night really sucked.”

She wipes at the mascara that’s still streaked down her cheeks. “Understatement. I’ve never seen my brother that mad.”

“Which one?”

“Both of them.” She grimaces. “Nikandr has always been the chill one, but even he was pissed at me. Yakov was… nuclear.”

“He unlocked your door. That is a step in the right direction.”

She shrugs. “It probably sounds weird, but… I felt better when the door was locked.”

“Why?”

“When I was shut in here, I could pretend that I felt like shit because my brother is a controlling psychopath. But now, it’s open and… I still feel like shit.” She drops her face in her hands. “I really fucked up.”

“I did, too, Mariya. This is my fault as much as it’s yours.”

“No. Yakov has been telling me since I got here that we’re in danger. I mean, I was there when my dad was killed. I know how bad things can be. I should have listened.”

“Yakov trusted me with you. This is all my fault. I shouldn’t have let you leave.”

“You couldn’t have stopped me.” She lets out a humorless laugh. “Sorry, but it’s true. What were you going to do, tie me up?”

“I should have. That would have been safer.”

“But I would have hated you forever.”

“He’ll forgive you,” I say as my throat tightens. “He loves you, Mariya.”

Mariya opens her mouth to say something, but I don’t stay to hear it. I spin for her bathroom and barely make it to the toilet before I’m heaving. Nothing comes up, but my body tries again and again.

When I finally rock back on my heels, Mariya is standing in the doorway. “Whoa.”

“It’s just the stress,” I tell her. “I’ve been nauseous.”

“For how long?”

“Last night,” I answer quickly. “All of yesterday, actually… Some of the day before, too. It’s been a while, I guess.”

It’s no wonder. My life has been upside down for a while now. My body is finally processing it all.

I rinse my mouth in the sink and Mariya turns away and goes into her room. I hear her rummaging through a few drawers while I wipe my face. When I’m done, Mariya is standing in the doorway again, a small box in her hand. “Take this.”

“Is it medicine or something?” I ask, reaching for it.

She winces. “Not quite. Opposite, actually. If you take that, shit could get a lot more complicated around here.”

I look down… at the pregnancy test in my hands.