Under Control: Chapter 37

I hear rumors about what happened. That’s the worst part. There are whispers, but nobody’s telling me the truth, not even when I ask. My body feels like it’s vibrating with worry and fear, and I can tell the guards are trying to be extra careful with what they say while I’m in earshot, but everyone’s gossiping.

Something happened. That much is obvious. The vibe in the house is very bad, and whatever went down isn’t good.

I try to distract myself, and eventually end up pacing across the kitchen while Nikkita makes tea.

“You have to understand,” the old housekeeper says, pouring me a cup. “Valentin is a survivor.”

“You don’t know my uncle.”

“Do you?” she asks, eyebrows raised. “No, you don’t, and so you must trust your husband, right?”

She’s got a good point. I have some of Uncle Aram in me, since we have the same general genes, but that doesn’t mean I actually know him at all. Arsen gave me some ideas about what his father is like, and I can tell the man is a real piece of garbage and a brutal, petty monster, but Valentin’s strong. He can handle this, if anyone can.

“Please, if you know anything⁠—”

She holds up a weary hand. “We’re all under orders not to tell you anything until Valentin is home.” She clears her throat and looks away. “But he’s alive. I can tell you that.”

Relief washes over me, but that’s quickly tempered. “What about my mother?”

“Wait until he comes home.”

She stays with me but refuses to answer any questions. It’s frustrating but at least I’m not alone. My mind starts spinning in a dozen directions, but at least I know Valentin is alive and he’s coming back to me.

Even though I have no idea if he’s bringing my mother home with him.

It’s well past noon when he finally arrives, looking haggard and worn. Blood stains his clothes, but his wounds are all minor cuts and bruises. I run to him and throw my arms around his middle and hug him tight. He hugs me back, but there’s something stiff about him.

“Tell me what happened,” I say, struggling to keep my voice from trembling. “I just want to hear it.”

“I’m sorry,” he says, sounding weary. Then he tells me everything. From the initial betrayal, to Arsen’s escape, to the drones that saved their lives.

The news slowly sinks down into my bones like the corpse of a great whale settling to the ocean floor.

Aram still has my mother.

“I will do everything I can to get her back,” he says and takes my hands between his. He holds them tightly and raises them to his lips. “I won’t fail you. I will burn Baltimore to the ground if that’s what it takes. I will bring her home.”

“I know,” I say but my voice sounds very distant. “You should go see a doctor.”

“I’m fine.”

“Please, Valentin, go see a doctor.” I pull my hands from his and step away. “I think I need some time to process.”

I can tell it kills him. The pain in his expression wounds me even deeper and my pain doubles as I cut out his heart. I hate myself for it, hate everything about this situation, and yet I don’t know what else I can do.

I tumble into a very deep, very dark depression.

I’m not stupid. I know that we have no leverage without Arsen. An exchange for my mother was only possible when we had a hostage worth exchanging for, and now without Aram’s son, we have nothing.

And it didn’t even matter in the first place. He clearly doesn’t care about his son. Why would he care about anyone else? Valentin could go out and kidnap a dozen Armenian soldiers, and Aram would happily sacrifice every single one of them to win his petty little war.

I’m never going to see my mother again.

Just like I’m never going to see my father.

I spiral hard. I try to resist it, but all I feel is a thick, black sludge in my veins. The blackness is impossible to resist, and I spend the rest of the day in bed like my body can’t handle being around anyone else. I hide away in the guest room again, and when Valentin comes to see me, I send him away.

He doesn’t argue. I think he feels too guilty, and that only makes my pain worse.

My suffering is making Valentin suffer too.

But that’s not enough to change anything.

A day goes by. Nikkita comes in, rips the blankets off and opens the curtains. She makes me drink some tea and watches while I eat a bowl of cereal.

The moment she’s gone, I crawl back into my cage.

The process repeats several more times. I hide away, Nikkita tries to force me out, I retreat again. I know that this isn’t going to fix anything, but I keep seeing my mother in my mind, and I know she’s suffering. Her burn wounds were bad, and now she’s under the care of a man that would kill his own son if it meant getting what he wanted.

My mother doesn’t stand a chance.

She’ll suffer deeply whenever they decide to wake her up. If they ever wake her. I hope for a quick death but that makes me sob so hard I nearly throw up.

Valentin comes into the room several times over the next three days. He sits with me, touches my hand, and tries to coax me back to the world.

It nearly works. If there’s anyone that can drag me out of this, it’s him.

But he’s too busy, and the second he leaves is the second I spiral out of control again.

I know things are happening. There are fights going down in Baltimore. Russian men are killing Armenians, a whole string of targeted murders. Blood’s flowing in the streets and the cops are struggling to contain the brutality.

Valentin is going to tear that city apart.

And I don’t care, because it won’t make a difference.

After three days, Nikkita comes in and makes me shower. “You smell like a teenager’s sock drawer,” she says, wrinkling her nose. “And you look terrible. Do you want your husband to see you this way?”

“My husband? I almost forgot about him.”

“Stupid girl,” she grumbles and pushes me into the bathroom. “He loves you. That man is slaughtering an entire city for you, and you sit in here and sulk like a child.”

“Is this tough love supposed to work?”

“There is no love. Only tough.” She starts the shower and crosses her arms. “Get in.”

“Are you seriously going to just stand there?”

“I’ve seen tits before. Get in now.”

I glare at her. She glares right back. And all at once, my resolve fails me, and I strip down like a robot. I’m numb, and it doesn’t matter if she’s looking at my body while I mechanically wash myself. It’s not like she hasn’t seen it before.

She leaves once I’m finished and dressed. I sit on the edge of the bed, already debating if I should get back under the covers, when my phone starts to ring.

I stare at the screen, expecting Valentin’s name.

Instead, it’s an unknown number.

Normally, I’d let it go to voicemail. It’s almost always spam anyway. But for whatever reason, I lift the phone to my ear.

“Hello?”

“Hello, cousin.”

His voice jolts me. I sit up straighter, my mouth hanging open in shock. “Arsen?”

“I’m guessing you didn’t expect to hear from me.”

“How did you get this number?”

“It wasn’t easy, but I have connections.” There’s a short pause, and it sounds like he’s speaking somewhere with an echo. “You know, I tried to warn him.”

“Warn who? About what?”

“Valentin. About my father. When he marched me out of that car, I knew what was going to happen. I knew my father would never give up anything to the Russians, even if it meant saving my life. I just fucking knew.”

The bitterness is stunning, but I can’t blame him for feeling that way. “From what I heard, your father nearly blew you up.”

“Valentin saved me. Then he let me escape. Seems ironic, doesn’t it? That my sworn enemy kept me alive when my father was very much willing to toss me away like trash.”

My heart’s racing as I look around, hoping to see Valentin striding through the door. I don’t know what I’m doing right now and I need his help. He’d say the right thing, tip Arsen in the right direction, except Arsen didn’t call him.

Arsen called me. And I bet he called for a reason.

I just have to figure out what it is.

For the first time in a few days, since Valentin came back from the failed hostage exchange, I feel a glimmer of hope.

“We can’t really control who our parents are,” I tell Arsen.

“That’s very true, cousin.” He chuckles softly but there’s no joy in his tone. “Your mother seems like a decent person. I wonder what my life would have been like if I had been born her son instead.”

My heart patters wildly and sweat dribbles down my back. “You spoke to her?”

“She’s awake,” he confirms. “And from what I can tell, she’s doing rather well. The doctor my father hired to watch over her is basically a quack, but he’s failing in the right direction.”

My guts clench. I feel sick, knowing my mother is a prisoner, and now she’s conscious for it. “Help me get her back. Please, Arsen.”

“Slow down,” he says carefully. “I never said I’d do something like that.”

I close my eyes and struggle to maintain my composure. Mama is awake, she’s awake, and she’s alive. That’s important right now. She’s alive, and that means I can still save her.

“You would’ve liked it,” I tell him quietly. “I bet you and Luka would’ve been good as brothers.”

“Couldn’t be worse than what I was born into. Though we’d have to bring Tigran along. He’s a pain in the ass, but still.”

“My parents would’ve been happy with four kids,” I tell him even though I’m pretty sure it isn’t true. Mama used to always complain about how much work two children were, let alone twice that amount. “You should meet Luka still. I bet you two would get along.”

“He’s training to become a doctor, right? Lucky him. I bet it’s nice, living a normal life.”

“Is that something you want?”

There’s a pause. Then he laughs. “Fuck no,” he says, still laughing. “God, I’d be fucking bored to death. But still, it’d be good to have parents that aren’t actively trying to get me killed. I realized something after that fucking van exploded and your husband saved my life. I realized that I won’t ever be safe unless I’m the one in control of the Brotherhood.”

There it is. All this talk of normalcy was just a prelude. He’s amusing himself and delaying the inevitable, but now he’s said it out loud. Now he put that out into the world, and he can’t take it back.

“What can we do to help?” I ask him.

“Nothing for now. But I want to pay your husband back for saving my life. I don’t like owing him anything, you know what I mean?”

“I understand. How can you do that?”

“Your mother is being held in a house in the suburbs. It’s a little bit south of the city, a nice place.”

“Are you there right now?”

“No, but I’m close. I can tell you the address.”

“Please,” I say, struggling not to beg.

“Meet me at Federal Hill Park. There’s a war memorial overlooking the harbor on the north side. I’ll be there at three tomorrow afternoon on a bench. It’ll be crowded with people, so don’t fucking do something stupid, like try to kidnap me again. We already know my father won’t do shit about it.”

“We’ll be there.”

“You’ll be there,” he says with emphasis. “Don’t let your husband leave you at home.”

“Why me?”

“Because you’re my cousin. And because I don’t trust the Russian. See you tomorrow, Karine.”

He hangs up. I stare at my phone.

Then I scream at the top of my lungs.

Nikkita comes rushing into the room followed by two guards. The old woman’s got a gun out, aiming it all around the place with a stone-cold glare like she’s ready to take on an attacker.

Instead, she finds me grinning like a maniac.

Slowly, Nikkita lowers her weapon and sends the guards away. “You nearly gave me a heart attack,” she snaps at me. “What is going on?”

“Tell Valentin we have a special meeting tomorrow.”

Her eyes narrow. “Is this meeting good?”

“Very good.” I beam at her. “Very, very good.”