Twilight Sins (Kulikov Bratva Book 1)

I lie back against the headboard, the phone resting on my thigh as it rings. The constant ringing has been the soundtrack to my night. Again and again and again, I’ve called Yakov’s phone.

Nothing.

Now, I don’t even expect him to answer. Entering his number, letting it ring, and doing it all over again has become kind of therapeutic. It’s a better option than replaying everything Yakov said to me tonight on an endless loop.

I close my eyes and wait for his voicemail to pick up. For his deep voice to rumble through the line and shiver up my spine. This is Yakov Kulikov. Leave a message.

Riiing.

Riiing.

Riii—

“What the fuck do you want, Mariya?” Yakov says instead.

I sit up so fast the phone flies across the bed. I have to lunge for it. “Hello?”

There’s a pause. “You’re not Mariya.” The usual sharpness in his voice is gone. He sounds drunk.

“Yakov?”

“Luna.” My name is a slurred whisper. “How do you have Mariya’s phone?”

“Are you drunk?” I can’t quite imagine Yakov drunk. I’ve never even seen him tipsy. How much would a man his size have to drink to start slurring his words?

“I locked up her phone,” he says, not answering my question. “How did you get it?”

“You’d have to ask Mariya. She gave it to me. She wanted me to call you.” I chew on the inside of my cheek before I add, “I wanted to call you.”

There’s another long pause before he finally speaks. “I told you I didn’t want to see you.”

The words still hurt just as much as they did the first time. So much for Mariya’s theory. Yakov meant what he said earlier: he really wants nothing to do with me.

“Believe me, I remember,” I mumble. “But I need to talk to you. I didn’t want to do it over the phone, but⁠—”

“I said I’d get rid of you.” He’s talking so softly I can barely hear him. Especially over the noise in the background. People are talking and laughing. He must be in a bar.

I squeeze my eyes closed. I don’t want to cry. I’m not sure I have any tears left after earlier. “I heard you.”

“So why are you calling, solnyshka?”

My eyes snap open at the familiar nickname. “What does that mean?”

“What?”

“Solnyshka.” I realize as I’m talking that maybe I don’t want to know. Maybe it’s an insult and I’ve been too stupid to see what was right in front of me this whole time, distracted by the way the word rolls off his tongue. “You’ve been calling me that since the night we met.”

“It’s… You… Everything was dark. Fucking bleak. I was angry at the world and alone. Then you walked up to my table and it was… You lit up my world. You were the first drop of sunshine I’d seen in five fucking years.” He sighs. “That’s what it means—little sun. My own personal sunshine.”

His explanation is broken and mumbled and it can’t possibly be real. He wouldn’t be saying any of this if he wasn’t drunk. Does that mean it isn’t true?

I curl my hand over my stomach. I can’t tell him about the baby now. Not while he’s drunk in some bar. I need to see his face. I need to apologize for what happened with Mariya. Then we can start over. We can build a life together.

“But sometimes, it’s better in the dark, solnyshka.”

I frown. “No. No, I don’t think so.”

“We talked about pretty lies and ugly truths that night. You and I, we’ve been living in a pretty lie.”

“Yakov,” I rasp. “I don’t believe that. I don’t think⁠—”

“Things would have been easier if we’d never met.”

My chest is hollow. My life would be easier now if I’d never met Yakov, but that doesn’t mean it would have been better. I’d fight for him—for us—with everything in me.

He wouldn’t.

If he felt anything for me, it doesn’t matter now. He doesn’t think I’m worth the trouble. He doesn’t want me. I swallow down a sob as tears roll softly down my cheeks.

Then the call ends.

Yakov hung up. With one tap of his finger, he ended the call and this thing between us, whatever it was.