Chapter 22

Yuri’s brow hardened. “Why would I do that?”

“We made a bet.”

“I never agreed.”

Cherriot only smiled with his eyes. Because of the mask, Yuri could not see clearly, but he was certain Cherriot’s mouth was curving deeply enough for his dimples to show. Before he realized it, Yuri had become able to picture how Cherriot smiled even in his head. He had spent all day beside him, watching that smile constantly.

Cherriot wearing a hat and mask, and Yuri wearing sunglasses, looked somewhat suspicious facing a cashier, so they moved to the self-checkout. Cherriot’s tremendous haul required six thick paper bags, and the price was… $223.

Yuri stared down at the total with an expression of disbelief. Beside him, Cherriot laughed softly, held out three hundred dollars, and asked for a favor. “Now that I think about it, I forgot to buy suppressants. Sorry, but could you pay first and wait by the entrance?”

“You want to go around alone?”

“There wasn’t anyone suspicious when we walked around together earlier.”

Yuri accepted the cash for the moment. Cherriot was right, but there was no particular reason to split up. “I’ll wait here.”

“Wolfie, this is my first time in my life buying suppressants.”

“So?”

“It’s damaging to an Alpha’s pride. I don’t want you to see me like that.”

Absolute bullshit.

Deciding the nonsense was not worth answering, Yuri silently began scanning the groceries. Cherriot left him with a thank-you and headed toward the pharmacy at the opposite end of the mart. After watching Cherriot approach the pharmacist, Yuri went outside.

Cherriot arrived ten minutes later. Yuri swallowed the thought that purchasing a suppressant had been an agonizingly long process and straightened from his window-leaning position. Cherriot approached with a small white paper bag dangling from his hand, extending it toward Yuri.

Thinking Cherriot might be attempting to grab his wrist again, Yuri furrowed his brow and stepped back. Cherriot said, “Let’s split the bags.”

“No need,” Yuri replied.

Since Yuri was already carrying them, he had no intention of passing them over. However, Cherriot strode closer and pressed against his side. Perhaps because it was past three in the afternoon and the sun had shifted, Cherriot’s shadow fell over Yuri.

“You hurt your left arm,” Cherriot said abruptly.

Yuri narrowed his eyes behind his sunglasses, wondering what he was talking about. He recalled the upper part of his arm where the bullet had grazed him. The pain had dulled at some point, and he had naturally forgotten it. “How did you—“ Yuri stopped and closed his mouth. Cherriot must have noticed the injury earlier when Yuri had shown his upper body.

“Why on earth were you hiding that? Judging by the scab, it looks like it bled a lot,” Cherriot quietly looked down at him and whispered. The smile he so often wore had vanished, and his green eyes watched Yuri earnestly.

Feeling as though he was being scolded, Yuri lifted his gaze over his sunglasses. “It’s none of your concern,” he said. It had been so long since someone had commented on his injuries that discomfort rose in him. Cherriot had acted embarrassed after seeing his body, so Yuri had not thought he had noticed the wound. Now he realized that Cherriot had known and pretended not to. Yuri had thought Cherriot only expressed his emotions honestly, but apparently, he had a talent for hiding things too.

“I should be concerned when you were hurt because of me,” Cherriot said firmly.

After firmly refuting him, Cherriot took the bags Yuri was carrying in his left arm. Yuri disliked the way it felt like being treated as weak. When he curled his fingers to avoid handing them over, Cherriot covered Yuri’s hand with his own large one.

The solid feeling of Cherriot’s palm pressed over the back of Yuri’s cold hand sent a jolt through him. Along with the gentle strength came a surge of body heat, and the warmth seemed to seep under his skin. At that moment, a strange sensation rose. His heart clenched unpleasantly, then released, its beat quickening. It had become very hot.

“If you don’t give them to me, I won’t let go.”

The whisper, barely audible, tickled Yuri’s ear. He narrowed his eyes and closed them without realizing it. The sound was too close.

“I’ll stay like this, whether anyone sees us or not,” Cherriot whispered, bending his head even closer.

How on earth was Yuri supposed to counter such a ridiculous threat? Should he tell this man, who feared him yet boldly approached, that if he let his guard down, he might die? Normally, Yuri would strike a vital point and warn the person to step back, but he had decided to be patient with this impudent client. In the end, Yuri loosened his grip. Cherriot, sensing the movement, carefully wrapped his fingers around Yuri’s. Unlike the forceful grip that had held him back earlier, the motion of their fingers brushing together was unbearably ticklish.

“I’ll carry the other bags too,” Cherriot whispered, as if praising him. A hint of laughter had entered his serious voice, so his mood seemed to have improved.

Yuri released a long breath, acutely aware of his heart’s unpleasant beating. Perhaps because he had suddenly become too hot, he felt dizzy.

“No.”

Even beneath Cherriot’s shadow, Yuri couldn’t bear the heat and moved away. After handing over the bags and taking several steps back, he finally felt as if he could breathe. Perhaps because the body heat radiating from Cherriot had been so intense, the wind felt cooler when it blew. With his freed left hand, Yuri adjusted his sunglasses, as if to shield Cherriot from view.

Don’t treat me like that again.

The words rose to his throat, but Yuri didn’t say them. He felt as if he were overreacting to something that might mean nothing to Cherriot. The moment he said it, he would have to admit he had been conscious of what had just happened.

Does he act like that with everyone he considers close?

Yuri could no longer understand Cherriot. He had been incomprehensible from the beginning, but now he was even more so. Cherriot had said he liked physical contact, but that hand stroking the back of Yuri’s was not something even close friends would do. In Yuri’s world, especially not.

If someone he met often acted like that every day, then… wouldn’t they misunderstand?

The unwanted question entered Yuri’s heart. So that’s why he only makes partners.

Cherriot had once boldly told Yuri—a man he had only just met—unnecessary information about how he tended to keep partners and did not date. Yuri had seen plenty of wealthy white men act lightly because they did not want to settle down, so he had thought nothing of it. But now he saw that Cherriot’s attitude likely caused problems. If he had someone he was dating and went around touching people like this, there was no way trouble would not follow.

Yuri narrowed his eyes with a measure of contempt. Then, as if wiping away the feeling Cherriot had left behind, he roughly rubbed the back of his left hand against his pants and stared at Cherriot’s broad back as the man headed for the car. Seeing how Cherriot swung whatever was in his hand, it seemed he had a habit of shaking anything he held. Bad hands.

Yuri added one more assessment of Cherriot. He had never dated before and would not in the future, but in the serious relationships Yuri had seen, it was natural not to give anyone outside the relationship room for misunderstanding. A person’s heart could not be seen, so it was easy to handle it carelessly; but depending on how one treated it, a heart could create a miracle or burn everything like a terrible flame.

Well… given the situation he’s in now, he must have learned his lesson too.

Yuri belatedly recalled that Cherriot was caught up in a romantic disaster, and also realized that his plan to call Alexei had been thrown off because of Cherriot.

“Wolfie, we still have a lot to do. We have to buy your clothes too.”

Cherriot had reached the car and was sitting on the trunk. Yuri glanced over the grocery bags and remembered the case hidden beneath the floor.

The handgun.

The ammunition.

The military knife.

Cherriot was sitting on top of the weapons Yuri Kiselyov had possessed from the beginning, unaware of what lay beneath him.

At the reminder of his position, Yuri’s heart calmed. His inner self, confused by the rush of ordinary moments, found a cold stillness as if drenched in icy water. He needed to stop being swayed.

Accommodating someone and being swayed were different things. Even if he allowed the jokes and the touching, he did not need to do everything together with Cherriot. His only job was to keep him safe for ten days.

“It looks like we bought everything you need, so stay in the car. I’ll buy the rest.”

Those pretty green eyes widened, then showed disappointment. “I’ll go with you. Your left arm is hurt, so I should carry things.”

“I’m not buying enough clothes to need both hands, so stay here.”

“But it’s boring in the car.”

Cherriot rose from the trunk and approached Yuri. His shadow fell over him again, and Cherriot bent his upper body to meet Yuri’s eyes. His reddish-gold lashes blinked along the gentle downward curve of his eyes. “Let’s go together, okay?”

The cute way he stretched the end of the sentence made him look as if he were acting charming. The back of Yuri’s left hand abruptly began to itch, and for a moment, his chest felt tight, as if blocked by a ball of fire. Yuri felt an inexplicable irritation toward the Alpha in front of him, who behaved this way with just anyone.

“We’re not here to play.”

As if mocking how well Yuri had endured so far because he knew Cherriot was frightened and thought he should treat him kindly, his voice came out cold. But if he kept staying with this man like this, he felt he would not be able to do his work properly. “I understand you’re acting however you like because you want to feel close to me, but that doesn’t mean we need to stick together unnecessarily. Remember that I’m not your nanny.”

Cherriot blinked at the cold warning. His emotions showed so transparently that Yuri could see his green eyes tremble. Seeing it made Yuri feel stifled. He had no idea how he was supposed to handle this man.

“Right.” His long lashes lowered without energy. “I guess I forgot for a moment because you were accepting me more kindly than I expected.”

Cherriot straightened, then stepped back without spirit. Watching him read the room like a dog scolded by its owner, Yuri was surprised. No matter how much Yuri had scolded him until now, Cherriot had always answered back. He had not expected him to suddenly act like this.

“I do need to be careful.”

After that murmur, silence fell between them. It had been a necessary measure, but now that Cherriot had truly taken Yuri’s words to heart, Yuri felt even more uncomfortable. If he had to choose between the irritation he felt when Cherriot acted as he pleased and the discomfort he felt seeing Cherriot lose heart—damn it, the former was better. But because he felt a sense of danger—that if he continued accommodating Cherriot’s every whim, some rule he had built over the course of his life would collapse—Yuri did not comfort him. Instead, he stated his business.

“You should tell your bodyguards your current location and situation again. In the meantime, I’ll take care of what I need and come back.” Yuri took out his phone, intending to call Alexei during this chance, and was about to leave when Cherriot’s small voice sounded behind him.

“How long will you be out?”

The steps that had been about to leave without regret paused. Yuri turned back, and Cherriot was looking at him while slightly pulling down his mask with one finger.

“Tell me the time, like you did at the gas station. So I don’t wait endlessly.”

He was about half a head taller than Yuri, and though their builds were similar, his strength was rougher. Yet when he stopped acting up and spoke like that, Cherriot looked like a fragile boy. To Yuri, who knew only how to break and shove away the things that crawled up to catch his ankles, Cherriot—who approached him asking to be protected instead of running away—looked frustratingly innocent.

Like watching a beast that would be shot dead by a hunter if left alone.

Igor had sometimes taken his subordinates hunting. Saying he would teach his son Ivan how to catch beasts, he occasionally called Yuri along to the forests of Saratov that he owned. No one who came there was allowed to carry a gun; only the Volkov father and son held guns.

The hunt, held three times a year like a ritual, sometimes became a day of purely hunting animals, and sometimes became a day for disposing of cowards who had tried to run or traitors who had betrayed them. In Igor’s forest, there were easily dozens of skeletons buried without ever having been able to scream.

Yuri’s mother was also buried there.

Every time Yuri waited on Igor while stepping over land where his mother must be buried somewhere, he saw countless animals unaware of approaching death. Whenever a muzzle was aimed at a living thing that had pricked up its ears and then relaxed enough to show its back, Yuri felt the impulse to shout and drive it away. He felt that way now too.

When he curled his left hand into a fist, pain slowly rose in his injured arm. The sharp sensation digging through muscle awakened his mind. The more freely Cherriot approached him, the more Yuri wanted to tell him he was doing something wrong.

“Thirty minutes.”

But he hates me.

Yuri remembered Cherriot in the hotel, calling him trash. He also remembered Cherriot saying that although he talked to him as if nothing were wrong now, it was because he was afraid—because he wanted to feel safe at least while they were together. So every action Cherriot showed him was deception.

It only fooled the senses like sugar. The disgust lying beneath toward people like Yuri would not have gone anywhere. Thinking that even Cherriot himself was acting this way in order to deceive himself cleared Yuri’s head.

Of course. If he acts like he’s fine, he’ll feel less afraid. Even if he usually treats people around him this way, it must mean something different when he does it to me. Right now, he has nowhere else to depend on, so he’s only acting like this for a while.

Then all Yuri had to do was keep his balance. Accept it, but do not approach. Once this passes, he will go on his way on his own. Yuri told him the time in a cooler voice than he had used at the gas station.

Pretending not to know that he had given a generous estimate so Cherriot would not end up waiting longer than expected, he passed by Cherriot and placed the remaining grocery bags in the trunk. The black floor was completely covered. Only Yuri would know what lay beneath it.

“Get in the car.”

Cherriot fidgeted with the car key, then pressed the unlock button. The car gave a mechanical beep, and Cherriot adjusted his mask. After confirming Cherriot got into the driver’s seat, Yuri turned his gaze away and headed toward the arcade. He ignored the fact that Cherriot’s back, caught in his vision just before he turned, looked particularly pitiful.

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Chapter 24

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Though Yuri had spent nearly his entire life in solitude, entering the arcade mall alone—leaving Cherriot behind—made him feel isolated in a way he had not known for a very long time. Perhaps it was the crushing unfamiliarity of the last two days, but the sensation was entirely unwelcome. Ignoring the loneliness that gnawed at him despite the surrounding noise, Yuri focused on his tasks with cold, efficient precision.

There was only one clothing store in the arcade, and it catered primarily to wealthy tourists, keeping its prices well outside of Yuri’s usual range. After grabbing two black shirts, a pair of pants, and underwear, he made a final stop at the hardware store just before they shuttered for the day. Cherriot had mentioned the house possessed CCTV, but Yuri knew technology would not stop a determined intruder. He decided it would be prudent to rig a few simple traps with nails and wire, determined to avoid firearms; they were a double-edged sword that not only frightened Cherriot but also unearthed the loathsome man Yuri became when he held a weapon.

The past flickered behind his eyes, leaving Yuri frozen for an instant, until his pocket vibrated and startled him back to the present. He pulled out his phone, and a name sparked an unexpected warmth on the screen: Alyosha.

Yuri answered immediately.

—“Kiselyov!”

The moment he answered, an angry voice rang low through the speaker. At the sound brushing coldly against his eardrum, Yuri arched a brow. It had been a long time since Alexei had truly lost his temper.

“Calm down, Alyosha.”

—“You think you would calm down? Your phone is on, but you’re ignoring every call. What else am I supposed to think except that something happened?”

After the sarcastic outburst, Alexei swore in Russian and let out a sharp, frustrated sigh. Since Yuri was usually the one worrying and getting angry between the two of them, the dynamic felt distinctly unfamiliar. Yuri started moving again, carefully picking out tools from the shelves.

“We were moving the entire time, and there was no signal. I was going to call once we arrived, so stop wasting your energy.”

—“This damn country should put cell towers along its highways. What the hell are they doing with the taxes?” Alexei apparently still wanted to hold onto his anger, because only after blaming the highway did his voice soften enough for him to ask, —“Are you hurt?”

The arm where the bullet had grazed him and the bruised face he had seen in the mirror flashed through Yuri’s mind, but he answered calmly, “No.”

Their rule had always been simple: if there were no holes in the body and no broken bones, they were fine. Alexei wouldn’t have been asking about such things otherwise.

—“You sound intact enough, so I suppose that’s true.”

“So you know there’s no need to be angry.”

—“No. I’ll be collecting payment for making me worry.”

“If we’re counting it that way, it would be hard to compare with what you did in the past.”

Alexei was careful with his body now for Valeri’s sake, but there had been a time, when the situation had been at its worst, when he had tried to throw his life away. At Yuri’s implication, Alexei fell silent for a moment, then shamelessly changed the subject.

—“Heather said suspicious people came to the hotel. Were they those Watchmen bastards or whatever they’re called?”

Yuri smiled only with his lips and decided to play along. “Circumstantially, it looked that way, but I’m not certain. They had no visible tattoos, and the way they worked in pairs and lay in wait looked more like professional hit men.”

—“Hm.”

Instead of sounding surprised, Alexei made a thoughtful noise. Leaving him to process this, Yuri bought a hammer, a nail gun, nails, and wire. They were ordinary tools, so they should not draw any particular attention.

—“I dug around all day, and something was strange anyway. Rather than moving to threaten Goodnight and demand money, they seemed busy trying to find him.”

“I don’t think they’re after ransom.” Yuri walked toward the checkout and explained calmly, “They tried to kill Cherriot the moment they saw him.”

—“What?” Alexei’s voice, which Yuri had barely managed to calm, turned rough again. —“And you’re telling me that now?”

“I’m telling you now, aren’t I?”

Russian rattled through the receiver again. While Yuri thought that living among civilians had somehow made Alexei swear even more, Alexei’s voice drew closer. He must have pressed the phone hard against his face. —“You really aren’t hurt?”

“Yes.”

—“Yuri, your standards are different from other people’s. There’s no way you didn’t bleed.”

For a moment, Yuri was at a loss for words. The fact that Alexei, of all people, was calling his standards “different” created a powerful sense of dislocation. Alexei was a man who had once smiled at Yuri for worrying too much while wrapping a bandage around his own side—where a bullet had grazed him—telling him not to make such a fuss over something like that.

Seeing blood had been everyday life for them, nothing strange at all. If anything, on days they got through without injuries, they had shared cigarettes and called it lucky. Hearing Alexei of all people speak this way made Yuri suddenly feel alone, even though he had always been alone.

Yuri set the basket of tools on the checkout counter and silently rubbed his forehead. As if sand had been poured down his throat, words would not come. Whatever he had meant to say was buried in the raw, tightening passage of his throat.

I see. Alexei is no longer someone who lives in the same world as me.

He had known it. He had certainly believed it. Yet only now, three years after crossing over from Saratov, did Yuri truly understand.

Alexei had someone now who loved and worried about him terribly. At some point, he had become a person for whom seeing blood was not nothing, and he had become aware of ordinary common sense, too. The bond Yuri had vaguely thought would last forever because they had been born into the same world and lived the same filthy life had changed into another form.

To Alexei, Yuri was closer to a comrade-in-arms. Not a companion still sharing the same environment.

Yuri’s index finger, which had been rubbing his stiff forehead, slowly slid down his cheek and touched his dry lips. Pressing at his pale, peeling lips, he forced one corner of his mouth up with his thumb, then slowly opened it. “I’m really fine.”

To reassure Alexei, he erased every trace of disturbance. Only after hearing Yuri’s plain, certain voice did Alexei completely release his suspicion. —“If something like this happens again, tell me that first. Understand?”

“Yes,” Yuri laughed dryly.

Then he lowered the hand that had stopped for a moment and began scanning the barcodes at the self-checkout. His eyes felt dry, and fatigue suddenly overtook him. Apparently, the food he had eaten over the past two days had been far too poor.

—“Now that I’ve heard that, I’m sure. The Watchmen don’t especially want money from Goodnight. This isn’t the kind of radical organization that commits revenge murder over a simple affair. If anything, they’d extort money like we expected.”

“Heather told me they have a history of killing a famous hockey player.”

—“I heard that too. But that man had been retired for a long time, and he wasn’t worth as much as Goodnight. The reason he died was because he got tangled up in an internal conflict, so it’s different from why they’re chasing Goodnight now.”

Alexei sounded doubtful, and ever since the gunfight, Yuri had also been bothered by things that did not sit right. Moreover, Cherriot had only transferred to Vancouver; he was American by nationality. The reason for openly trying to kill a celebrity significant enough to draw in organizations above the police did not seem likely to be simple.

“So there’s something Cherriot doesn’t know.”

—“Something bigger than the potential payment Goodnight could offer, probably. This is going to be trickier than expected. Things like this are hard to learn without getting inside, so I may have to move personally.”

“Alyosha, don’t take that much risk.” Yuri sensed that the time had come to reveal what had happened between him and Cherriot.

—“What are you talking about?”

“Cherriot has no intention of leaving this job to us until the end. Remember? He said the reason he came to us was because Heather introduced us. He came because we were ‘good people.’”

When Yuri finished, only Alexei’s breathing could be heard. Yuri explained the situation again so Alexei would not be hurt.

“We’ve lived a fucking miserable life, but you, Alyosha, never lived in a way you should be ashamed of. The problem is me. Cherriot said he didn’t want to entrust something like this to a criminal, and…”

The backs of his eyes grew so dry they stung. His nerves drew tight, and for an instant, it felt as if blood vessels were rising in them. Swallowing against his dry throat, Yuri murmured low.

“I’m rotten, Alyosha. I’m different from you.”

Alexei, who had been silent, refuted sharply. —“You and I both lived fucked-up lives without a choice, Yuri. There was nothing except dying or surviving. Why are you suddenly separating yourself from me? Both of us got blood on our hands, and both of us helped the Volkov father and son maintain their lives on dirty money. We’re the same. ”

“No.”

The moment Yuri heard Alexei say they were the same, he denied it in a voice sunk to the bottom.

“You and I are different, Alyosha.”

I did things you couldn’t do.

—“What the hell are you talking about, Yuri?”

You don’t know that we are fundamentally different people. I hope you never know.

“…In any case, for that reason, Cherriot doesn’t want a contract with us. He was attacked, so I got him out for now, but within ten days, people he trusts will come from America. Our work lasts only until then, so don’t take unnecessary risks.”

Because if you or T-Mac knew how terrible I truly was, you would leave me too.

His grip on the phone tightened, turning the back of his hand white. His stomach twisted as if he were about to be sick, and nausea rose. Forcing down a dry heave, he finished checking out with bloodshot eyes. The lifelong sins he had forgotten while with Cherriot tormented him again.

Yuri had been mistaken.

He had never been peaceful. Instead, he had suppressed the guilt that tormented him and feigned calmness. He had never once looked away from his sins; he had only constructed barriers and concealed himself behind them, hoping that those around him would not perceive his inherent sin.