Chapter 85: The Anchor’s Burden

The evening air was thick and humid, the kind of heat that made your clothes stick to your skin and made every breath feel like a chore. I was sitting on the floor of the sunroom, sorting through a box of old charcoal sticks. The house was quiet, but it was that brittle, nervous quiet that usually came before a storm.

I heard the heavy front doors slam. Then came the voices.

They weren't shouting, not yet, but the vibration of their anger traveled through the floorboards. Ilya and Ivan were home.

I stayed still, my heart thudding against my ribs. I tried to focus on the charcoal, but I was already counting the seconds. Five. Ten. Fifteen.

The door to the sunroom burst open. Ilya walked in first. His jacket was gone, his shirt sleeves were rolled up, and his face was flushed a deep, angry red. He didn't even look at me; he just started pacing the length of the room like a caged tiger. Ivan followed a moment later, looking pale and dangerously calm.

"He’s a senile old fool!" Ilya snapped, kicking a footstool out of his way. "If he thinks I’m going to sit there while he insults our mother’s side of the family, he’s lost his mind."

"He was baiting you, Ilya," Ivan said, his voice cold and flat. "And you fell for it. You almost broke a man's jaw in front of twelve witnesses."

"He deserved to have his head put through the table!"

"That’s not the point!" Ivan’s voice finally cracked, rising in volume. "The point is the image! The point is the control! We are losing it!"

Ilya turned on him, his teeth bared. "Don't talk to me about control! You’ve been a walking corpse for three days, staring at those damn screens until your eyes bleed. You aren't even here anymore!"

The tension in the room was like a wire being pulled until it was ready to snap. I could see it in the way Ilya’s hands were shaking and the way Ivan’s eyes were darting around, looking for something to strike. They weren't businessmen right now. They were two broken, terrified boys who only knew how to hurt things when they were scared.

I stood up slowly. I didn't say anything at first. I just walked into the middle of the room, standing right between them.

"Stop," I said. It wasn't a shout. It was just a quiet command.

They both froze. It was like I had dumped a bucket of ice water over them. Ilya stopped pacing, his chest heaving. Ivan blinked, his gaze finally focusing on me.

"Leo," Ilya muttered, his voice dropping an octave. The rage didn't vanish, but it shifted. He looked at me with a desperate kind of hunger. "You shouldn't be in here for this."

"How can I not be?" I asked, looking from one to the other. "You’re tearing the house down. You’re tearing yourselves apart."

I walked over to Ilya first. I reached out and took his hand. His skin was burning hot, and his knuckles were white. "Ilya, look at me. Breathe. Just breathe."

He stared at me, his eyes wide and glassy. For a second, I thought he might push me away, but then his shoulders slumped. He leaned his forehead against my shoulder, letting out a long, shuddering breath. I could feel the tension leaving him in waves, flowing into me.

"I can't stand them, Leo," he whispered into my shirt. "I hate everyone in those meetings. I hate the way they look at us. I just want to burn it all down."

"I know," I said softly, rubbing my thumb over the back of his hand. "But you aren't there now. You're here. With me."

Over Ilya’s shoulder, I saw Ivan watching us. He looked hollow. He wasn't angry anymore; he just looked lost.

"Ivan," I called out.

He didn't move at first. He looked like he was afraid to move. Then, slowly, he stepped forward. He didn't join the embrace, but he stood close enough that I could reach out and grab his arm. His skin was like ice compared to Ilya’s heat.

"You're both spiraling," I said, my voice trembling slightly. I realized then what was happening. If I wasn't in this room, Ilya would have probably destroyed the furniture, and Ivan would have retreated into a dark, silent room for a week. "You're using me."

"We aren't," Ivan said, though his voice lacked conviction.

"You are," I insisted. I pulled back a little so I could look at both of them. "You come home and you look for me because I’m the only thing that makes the world feel real to you. If I’m not here to tell you to breathe, or to hold your hands, you don't know how to be human anymore."

A heavy silence followed. It wasn't the angry silence from before. it was something sadder.

"Is that so bad?" Ilya asked, his voice small. The fearsome Volkov twin looked like a child asking for a nightlight. "That you're the only thing that keeps us sane?"

"It’s a lot of weight to carry, Ilya," I said. My heart felt heavy, like it was made of lead. "I’m one person. I’m just Leo. I can't be the person who holds your entire world together. What happens if I break?"

Ivan reached out then, his fingers brushing my cheek. His touch was tentative, almost reverent. "You won't break. We won't let you. You’re the anchor, Leo. Without you, we’re just... drifting. Into the dark."

I looked at them—two of the most powerful men in the city—and all I saw were two addicts. And I was the drug. They needed me to regulate their emotions, to filter their rage, to give them permission to feel something other than greed or hate.

I am their medicine, I thought, a chill running down my spine. And they’ll never let me go, because they’re terrified of what they’ll become without me.

"Go wash your faces," I said, trying to keep my voice steady. "I’ll make some tea. We’ll sit. No more talk about the firm. No more talk about the board."

They obeyed. That was the scariest part. They didn't argue. They just did what I said, like I was the only compass they had left.

As they walked out of the room, I sank back down onto the floor. I looked at my hands. They were shaking. I had settled them down, but at a cost. I could feel their darkness clinging to me, a cold shadow that didn't belong to me.

I was their anchor, but the thing about anchors is that they spend their whole lives underwater, holding something else in place while they slowly rust away. I wondered how long I cou

ld stay submerged before I drowned.