Page 121 of Assassin: Part 1

“Worse. Far worse.” I shrug, forcing myself to take another bite before I spit anything else out that I shouldn’t.

“I don’t know what to say to you, Lane.” His fork clatters to the table. “That’s fucked up. It shouldn’t fucking happen.”

“It happens every day, Ilya. Maybe not in that setting, but you really don’t think that other criminal empires aren’t doing much the same to the people they take and traffic? To the kids that are born into that environment? The weak fall, and the strong rise. That’s a fact, despite many being uncomfortable with it.”

He stares at me, grappling with understanding how I can be so cold. It’s all over his face. The twist of his lips, the tic in his jaw, and the storm in his eyes. Not that I blame him. Few can really grasp the horrors in the world. And few, especially men like him, will ever live it.

“We have never allowed that here,” he states, voice hard and firm. “My father, when he ran the territory and was Pakhan, it was one of the first things he got rid of from the old Pakhan.”

“Because of your mother?”

He tenses, eyes going icy. “What do you know about my mother?”

Touchy subject, but one I won’t shy away from. “Your mother was a victim of trafficking as a teenager. Her mother was accused of cheating on her father, and he killed her, and since she was an unwanted girl, he sold her to another Pakhan, who put her in the pipeline. She escaped at nineteen with a thirteen-year-old girl, and your father found them in one of his shipping containers. Eventually, she married him, and the child was sent to live with one of his lieutenants and his wife, who were unable to have children.”

“How do you know all of that? My father worked very hard to keep that shit buried.”

I sit back in my seat. “Do you really think something like that would stay buried, Ilya? I’ve known about your family since I was a child, and people talk. Guards talk. One night, drunk, a little too much information slips out, and it makes the rounds. Eventually the wrong person hears it, and it’s put in a file a man like Pasha Antonov will keep for his students to study should an assignment involving your family come up.”

Fury burns in his eyes, and his body is like stone.

“And did you plan on using that information?”

I could lie, but I won’t. The truth may be hard to hear, but lying about it will be much worse. “If I was assigned to your family, then yes, I would have.”

He shoves back from the table; dishes clatter, and his plate crashes to the floor. I don’t flinch or move. He paces, movements sharp and short. “What else did he know? What else was in those files?”

“Ilya, it’s not⁠—”

“No, you will fucking tell me. Tell me the information that fucker had on me and my family. I’m owed that much. And if we’re going to work, I need to know. No secrets about this, Lane. Ever. Whatever information that may have been in that school could come back. I need to be ready for it.”

I want to assure him that won’t happen because the only people who know any of this are Mishka and me. The only two who have ever been privy to those files. Well, the two still alive. The others are currently a pile of ash.

“Pasha was thorough. Anything about you, your brother, your parents, it was all documented and stored away. Anything he thought he could use. Some of it he hacked himself. Others he heard through people not knowing to keep quiet. Routes, plans, business statistics. He also recorded that the first couple of years for your parents were rough. She was traumatized, and she only married your father for protection. Out of that, she grew to love him, obviously, but those first two years she was on many medications, drank a lot, and cheated on your father.”

“No.” His voice is harsh, cold, and utterly defiant. “That was not my mother. She would never⁠—”

“She did. You don’t have to like it or accept it, but I’ve seen the file, the pictures, the reports. Your mother was traumatized, Ilya. People in that state, who have been through that, process their grief and trauma differently. Most turn to substances and sex to numb the pain. In those two years, the files showed multiple rehab visits and a few therapists. Until, finally, she seemed to realize that she was destroying her life. One more rehab stint, she got clean, she stayed clean, and she fell in love with your father.”

He shakes his head, throat bobbing as he tries to process it.

“Zakhar was born two years later. Then you, a year and a half after that. She was pregnant one more time, but there was a kidnapping attempt, and she lost the baby. The doctor’s report said a girl this time.”

He stares at me, coiled so tight he’s ready to break. “My father told me about the kidnapping, but not the baby.” He shakes his head, a flash of pain comes but leaves so fast I almost miss it. “I’m surprised my mother didn’t break from that alone.”

“She was far stronger than you think.” I hesitate, but in for a penny, as they say. “Pasha had his eyes on her from the beginning.”

His head whips up. “What?”

“She was beautiful, a dutiful wife, and your father consulted her on the decisions. He saw her as someone who could be broken again, and she’d be able to give him information on your father’s operation. He was going to use the Sicilian feud between your father and Mario Saldi at the time as a cover to grab her away, but the plan failed. He wasn’t powerful then. Or as skilled. It was one of his biggest regrets.”

“And what, he decided she wasn’t worth his time again?” he sneers.

“He was hired away on an assignment, and she fell off his radar. By the time she was back on it, she was dying of cancer. He had no use for her. Instead, he shifted his focus to you and Zakhar. And when you became Pakhan over Zakhar, he thought you’d be easy pickings. Until you started making big moves, you were just a threat. Especially when he was building his alliance with Timur, and you were getting in the way.”

He stares at me. “Did he ever assign you to me? To Zakhar?”

“No. In fact, he was very careful not to send me anywhere near you.”