Viktor hadn't come down in a while but I heard him talking on his phone in Russian. Mrs. C kept sending me skeptical glances as we cooked together and I did my best to avoid her eyes. I was grateful to Viktor for keeping his tone polite upstairs but the old lady next to me wasn't convinced he was a good guy. She hand't even seen him yet.

"So... the two of you are together I'm guessing?"

"No," I hesitantly avoided Mrs. C's question. "Not really."

"But you have done something together," she pressed.

I rolled my eyes and stirred the pot with fried chicken. "It doesn't matter."

"Of course it does. The two of you have been together for what... two months? Running around, always ready to face danger. You can't tell me attraction hasn't done its job."

"You haven't even seen him," I complained.

"I don't need to. He sounds hunky enough," the old lady said and nudged me with her elbow.

"Mrs. C!" I exclaimed horrified only to have her laugh at me. I now regretted trying to give her a small rundown of things between Viktor and I.

"I'm guessing he's dangerous," she added after her giggling fit. "And high ranking in whatever illegal syndicate he's running."

She had no idea.

"He's a good guy." Mostly.

"Maybe good to you but do you know others who know him. Have you heard the whispers of him in the streets?"

I had. The Butcher had a reputation.

"Yes, I know the whispers about him," I answered Mrs. C. Apart from myself, she was the person I trusted with enough secrets that got most killed. The old lady was kind and she didn't squeal. No matter what.

"How bad are they?"

"Terrible," I answered her question, going back to cutting the lettuce for the salad we were going to eat. "Horrific."

"You want to look past the fact that he's a killer then," Mrs. C pointed out for me.

I frowned, trying to meander through my thoughts as the sound of my knife on the chopping board echoed in the kitchen. "Not really. I can't look past the fact that his hands are coated with blood but... so are mine."

Mrs. C knew I had taken a life or two before this whole issue with Viktor and his dopplegänger. Most of the lives were not good men and they had hindered my search for my brother and chance to redeem my father.

"Killing six or seven people for a good cause is not the same as killing hundreds as I'm sure your little boyfriend has done," Mrs. C argued. "There is a point where you have to draw a line."

"You and I both know at this point I've taken more than my fair share of lives," I said remembering the fight I'd gotten to in the building, trying to find Viktor and the masked faces of the men I'd shot down. "If I killed as many men as he has for my family, you wouldn't judge me. How am I supposed to judge him if at the time he was murdering people, he believed his cause was good. He was doing it for his family, his business, his people... I just want to put myself in his shoes sometimes. If there were a million people standing between me, my dad and Peirce... well I'd find myself some C-4 and make a path."

When I glanced at Mrs. C over my shoulder, she looked at me like a light bulb had gone off in her head. Like she knew more about em and Viktor than I probably did.

"He saved your life?"

"Almost a hundred times and I would save his. Always," I said adding the last part under my breath but I'm sure she heard me.

Viktor didn't believe that his life was worth saving. Somehow, he'd put mine in a box behind him to protect it. He wasn't dying for me. The pain that would follow would tear me apart. I can't have another man in my life sacrificing himself. My dad had done enough.

"You really care for him don't you?" Mrs. C asked softly, no trace of surprise in her tone. I nodded, gulping down the lump rising in my throat.

"I do. A lot."

The old lady sighed. "Your heart is too easy to enter sometimes. Your loyalty is a little too strong as well."

"I don't just let anyone in," I defended myself. "He deserves the place he's got. We've been through too much for me not to save a piece of whatever's left."

I went back to chopping, trying to lose myself in the sound of the knife and the simple shift in my wrist.

"I'm not trying to scold you on your choices. I always did tell you to trust your gut," Mrs. C placed her hand over mine, stopping my chopping motion. "I'm just worried about how he will break you, just as many have before. You spiral a lot Peach. You fall into an abyss and you don't let anyone get to your for a long time. In that darkness, I worry about the choices you'll make before you decide to pull yourself out."

I turned to the old lady and found sincere care in her eyes. She had always been so close to me. That's why I didn't want to lie to her.

"I don't care if he breaks my heart. I can't live in fear of everything that I want to experience just because I'm scared. I refuse to give into fear anymore. I've shed many tears and I will shed many more even for a few moments to distract myself."

"He's a distraction to you?" she asked.

"Sometimes but others... it's so real to me," I whispered low, afraid that the man we spoke of would hear. "He's so warm when I touch him Mrs. C. When I'm with him, I forget that the world is constantly conspiring against me. I'm different. A good different. He's seen darkness, you know. He's treaded through it as one would water. He's understood it. Learned to hone it. I want to do that as well and only he can teach me even when he doesn't know he is."

Mrs. C was quiet for a while. "You talk so fondly of him. Do you think he does the same for you with others?"

"I honestly don't care," I stated, truth ringing in my words. Viktor and I weren't that serious anyway.

"So you're ok with being used and tossed away like a doll? What happens to you when he finds another woman. Someone better."

"Then I step aside," I declared dropping my knife to face Mrs. C fully. "Caring for someone also means knowing when you're not needed anymore. I don't know much about him. I don't know his middle name or his favourite colour. I don't know what his childhood was like or his general views of life but I know enough to be at peace if he decides I'm not the light, the girl or whatever that he needs. He's seen so much darkness. Why would I get in the way of him finding some form of happiness or pleasure."

At that, I smiled sadly because what could I do? I'd learnt that if someone did not feel for you what you felt for them, there was nothing you cold do to change that. It's hard to become someone else to please the person you like without losing yourself in the process. I didn't need there to be another me. Too many versions of myself had died and none better would rise from filling someone else's needs.

"That's a very mature thing to say," Mrs. C mumbled.

"I stopped being a little girl long ago," I answered her. I didn't grow from love and acceptance in all the years of my life. Too many mistakes and too much pain had moulded me into the woman I was now. Mrs. C had to understand that. I was an adult and I planned to act like one. After all, I was turning 21 soon.

"Why don't we get the food ready?" Mrs. C changed the subject. "I've heard enough deep talking for one afternoon."

I smiled and agreed though deep in my heart, something whispered to me that Viktor might not be the one to break my heart. Past experience had proved it would be the other way around.

Still, I shook off my dark thoughts and continued cooking. The air in the room was easy. I said what I had to, Mrs. C, being the good person she was, accepted my choices. They were mine to make and mine to learn from even when they hurt in the end. Viktor and I... we were complicated in ways that only existed in my head sadly. I felt like there was much to take into account to just have the simple pleasure of kissing him.

To burn with desire and stay silent is the greatest punishment.

"He's coming down."

Mrs. C's soft words got my head out of the gutter and I listened and Viktor's footsteps were coming closer. He made a descend down the stairs and my heart leapt out of my chest.

"Be nice and don't judge," I told my neighbour and she shrugged, not promising anything.

Viktor turned the corner and when Mrs. C got a look at him, her jaw dropped, horror covering her features. Mine dropped too but for a different reason.

He pulled his hair back. He almost never pulls his hair back but it did brighten up his face.

His eyes were much easier to see, his skin seeming a bit pale but there was a healthy pink tint to his cheeks. You could see his freckles, randomly scattered across his hard features. His stubble had grown a bit, I noticed but he kept it neat. He wore a light pink hoodie that had been a gift of mine from Mrs. C for my 13th birthday. I didn't know I still had it.

Viktor had rolled the sleeves up and showed off his tattoos and the ones on his neck just couldn't be hidden. His jaw was set and I noticed he had some bags under his eyes. That wasn't good of course. He needed sleep. Lots of it.

When the silence in the kitchen stretched on for more than five seconds, I decided to break it.

"Mrs. C, this is Viktor. A friend of mine," I introduced. "Viktor, this is Mrs. C. My neighbour. She helps look after the house when I'm not around." Which is always.

Viktor stretched an arm out. "Nice to meet you Mrs. C."

The old lady shook it. "You too, son."

Okay...

"Viktor, do you mind setting the table?" I asked. Anything to get him away and busy. "The food's practically done."

I showed Viktor where the plates were and he did as asked, no complaints. When he was at the dining, Mrs. C slipped close to me.

"He looks like a thug," she hissed under her breath.

"I thought you were going to keep and open mind," I whispered.

"My mind is open to many, many bad thoughts and feelings about this boy. Seriously Peach. Pretty boys with tattoos? Those two are a recipe for disaster!"

"Then it's my disaster to make," I stated and moved away from her, grabbing a serving dish where I placed the salad before going to the table where Viktor was. I stood next to him, hoping that if he had something to say, he'd say it.

"She doesn't like me," he finally spoke up.

"She doesn't have to," I answered softly, my tone firm.

"I thought I was supposed to get your whole family's approval," he joked making me roll my eyes.

"Their approval only matters to me if it's in your favour," I stated and turned to give him a smile. "They don't know you like I do. They'll judge you but... I have my own mind and I make my own decisions and choices."

"Are you trying to say you're choosing me?" Viktor cockily asked, sliding his hand up my back, in an angle Mrs. C couldn't see.

"You're the Butcher. I'm just a hacker. Of course I'm choosing you. I'd be dead if I didn't."

With a smirk, I left to help Mrs. C with the rest of the food. We sat at the table and the old lady held out her hands, one for me and one for Viktor. With no questions asked, we connected in a small triangle. My hand in Viktor's was filled with a tingling warmth I tried to ignore.

Mrs. C prayed for the food and we served ourselves. I was happy the table was quiet but that didn't last. Why would it?

"So... Viktor. Peach tells me you're some kind of boss?"

Viktor and I exchanged a glance and I didn't know if he could see that I was begging him to play this off well. Mrs. C respected my decisions but that didn't mean she wouldn't be on my ass to do what she believed would be the better option.

"I am," Viktor answered casually.

"What do you do?"

"A little bit of this and that," the Don sighed, pushing his food around with his fork. "I make deals, execute them and see to it that my business stays thriving."

"What business is that exactly?" Mrs. C asked and I sighed inside. This woman. Jesus.

"Hotels, clubs, a few hospitals," Viktor mumbled evasively.

"What are your intentions with Peach?"

"Mrs. C!" I snapped, not really liking where the conversation was headed. I'd told her what was what between Viktor and I. I didn't understand why she wouldn't just leave it alone.

Viktor's hand landed on my lap under the table and I stopped glaring at the old lady in front of me to give him a glance, He shook his head slightly causing me to sigh. Fine. He'd handle it then.

"I intend to keep her alive until the threat on the both of us has been cleared," he told Mrs. C.

"After that?"

"I gave her a position to work for me and only me. She wouldn't be taking orders from anyone else."

I had to hand it to him, Viktor's voice was all business-like as he spoke. That's what Mrs. C needed sometimes anyway.

"Will she be dong anything dangerous?" the old lady inquired.

"Nothing too bad that I can't help her."

"Illegal?"

"Of course," Viktor answered without hesitation, his Russian accent curling perfectly around the two words that I shivered. His ahnd on my thigh now felt like a hot burning iron, searing through the fabric of my mom's dress.

I brought my hand down on top of his, intending to push it away but he turned his palm so we held hands.

Oh.

Mrs. C narrowed her eyes at him. "If she dies—"

"She won't," Viktor stated his voice sure.

It scared me how much he believed that they rung true.