Page 117 of Toxic Salvation
“Yesterday, you called me Papa. Remember?” I wait until he looks up. “If that’s true, then you can talk to me about anything.”
“I just want to be helpful,” he mumbles. “I don’t want you to love the new baby more than me. So I thought, if I gave him all my stuff, maybe you’d still want me around.”
I put my hands on his knees. “It’s great that you want to help with your brother. It’s great that you want to share. But never at the expense of your own happiness.” I touch his chin to make sure he’s still looking at me. “You’re as much my son as this baby is. Actually, you’re the firstborn. The big brother. That’s a harder job, but I’m not worried because I know you can handle it.”
“I don’t know if I can.”
“I do. You want to know why?”
He swallows. “Why?”
“Because it’s in your blood. You know who else was a big brother?”
“Who?”
“Your father.” The pang of grief in my chest surprises me. I haven’t let myself think about Vitalii this way in months. “Your dad spent his whole life being an older brother, and he was damn good at it.”
Luka starts picking at his cuticles. “How?”
“He listened when I needed to talk. He called me out when I was being an idiot. He protected me when I couldn’t protect myself.” I pause, remembering. “He always had my back. Always. That’s what big brothers do.”
“Was he a goodpakhan?”
The question catches me between truth and kindness. Luka deserves honesty, but he also deserves to think well of his father.
“He did the best he could,” I offer eventually.
“That’s your way of saying no, isn’t it?”
I ruffle his dark hair. “You’re too smart for your own good.”
He grins. “Vesper tells me that all the time.”
“Leadership didn’t come naturally to your father. He would’ve preferred to just be your dad.” I choose my words carefully. “He cared more about taking care of you than taking care of the Bratva.”
“Is that why he died?”
“In a way.” I grip the edge of my chair. “He died because he trusted people he shouldn’t have trusted.”
“Papa…” The name still sounds strange coming from him, butgoodstrange. “Does this mean I’ll bepakhansomeday? Or will the baby be it?”
“That depends on you, Luka. This isn’t royalty where leadership gets passed down automatically. In this family, you fight for what you want. You earn what you get. And nothing is decided for you.Youget to choose what matters.”
He turns toward the window, staring out at the garden. He looks older than nine. He looks like Vitalii at that age—serious, thoughtful, carrying weight that shouldn’t belong to a child.
In a few years, he’ll be a man. I’ll know then if I did right by him or if I failed him the way this world failed his father.
“Papa? Can we go outside and play soccer?”
“Give me a couple minutes to finish up here, then we’ll go.”
He jumps down from the desk and heads for the door. I watch him walk away, noting how much he moves like his father now. The resemblance gets stronger every day.
Vitalii thought he wanted to bepakhanonce. He was wrong about that.
I never wanted to bepakhan, and here I am.
The question that keeps me awake at night: Which one of us will Luka take after?
