“I don’t give a fuck about that. I’m going to Russia. Make arrangements.”
“No, I won’t.”
I stare into Viktor’s dispassionate eyes. “Are you disobeying a direct order?”
“I am. I’m also telling you that if you go in blind, you’re only heading to your death. You were a captain in the damn Spetsnaz, you know good and fucking well not to move without trusted intel.”
“Get the fuck out of my way.”
“If you insist.” He pulls out his gun and tries to shove it in my hand. “Shoot me first. I’d rather die than see you spiral out of fucking control.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. I didn’t know you’d learned how to be dramatic.”
“I’m not joking, Kirill.” He glares at me. “I’ve been with you all your life and have seen you being tortured and driven to within an inch of your life. I’ve watched you rise above any hurdle that stood in your path. You got this far because you made it happen. If you don’t get yourself together and start acting like the Pakhan, you’ll be killed. Do you think Aleksandra would like to see you being this fucking suicidal?”
“Shut up, Viktor.”
“It’s the truth. She must be rolling in her grave.”
I grab hold of the gun and point it at his face. “I said. Shut the fuck up.”
He stares me down, unblinking. “Kill me and then do whatever the fuck you want. Aleksandra is gone and so are Yuri and Maksim. I’m the only one who’s able to keep you safe now, but you’re making my job impossible by inviting all these threats into your life. If you don’t kill me before you go to Russia, I’ll shoot myself.”
“Viktor,” I growl.
“I’m doing what she would do if she were here,” he says. “We didn’t get along, but we had one thing in common. Keeping you safe. And I’ll be fucking damned if I send you to your death.”
I let the gun fall to my side and twist the wedding ring with my other hand.
As much as I want to strangle the motherfucker, he’s right.
This isn’t me. And she wouldn’t want to see me throw myself into a dangerous situation.
She didn’t die so I could follow her.
At least, not yet.
I need to find out who the fuck took her from me first.
Only when I rip their heart out with my bare hands will I be able to join her.
5
SASHA
Sometimes, death is better than staying alive.
In death, you can feel no pain, no shattering of your heart, and no need to cry every night before sleeping and every morning after waking up.
In death, there’s finally peace.
No more running, suffering, and having to witness your heart being split open while hopelessly watching.
Like every morning, I jolt awake after the same mixture of nightmares. My shirt clings to my back with sweat, and my hair feels damp.
The small room I’ve been using for weeks appears smaller, as if the walls are closing in on me and will crush me.
My heart that stupidly insists on beating goes overboard in its attempts to remain alive.
I tap my chest as images of the nightmare overlap in my mind. Some are filled with memories of my parents’ deaths. The look of despair on Uncle Anatoly’s face when he realized everything would be over.
The pure terror in Erik’s pale features when he begged me to stop screaming so the shooters wouldn’t find us.
Eduard’s blank eyes.
Timur’s half-shot face.
Erik’s raw shriek before he was silenced forever.
But most are filled with images of Kirill’s wedding. I always dream about it in red as if I’m witnessing it through a blood haze. I see Kristina’s throat slit open, her blood bathing him before he drops right beside her.
Till death do they fucking part.
I rub my hand against my face and slap my cheek. I need to focus.
It’s been a month since Anton found me in that cottage. We nearly died in that initial explosion, but my brother pushed me underneath him and we took cover beneath a table. We managed to escape before the second bomb went off.
I still refused to believe it was Kirill’s doing until I saw one of his guards speeding away from the site.
Makar.
He was Roman’s senior guard. After his death, he became responsible for various independent tasks Kirill put him on, including, but not exclusive to, spying and carrying out hits on some of the enemies Kirill shared with Roman.
Makar never answered to me or even to Viktor. Since he had direct communication with Kirill, I barely saw him, if ever. Sometimes, I forgot he was there, considering he doesn’t live in the house.
That moment, when I saw Makar, was when reality started to sink in. After I foolishly told Kirill my real name, he knew I was part of the family he and his father couldn’t get rid of, so he sent Maksim to Russia to kill my remaining family members and tasked Makar with wiping me off the face of the earth.
When those facts hit, I wanted to die and honestly considered it until Anton shook me and reminded me of all our family members who died that day.
He reminded me of Papa and Mama and that it wasn’t my time to go.
I still needed to exact revenge on the only man I’ve ever loved.
The man who chose another woman over me.
And because he hurt me, I attempted to hurt him back.
That day, Anton was more concerned about getting out of that place.
But we weren’t able to make a swift escape since it turned out there were also gunmen near the property who attacked us. After we killed a few, I picked someone who was about my build, put my ring and bracelet on him, then burned him and what remained of the cottage.
A part of me wanted to ruin Kirill’s wedding day. But the other part knew he wouldn’t care, considering he sent those people to kill me and all.
Besides, a DNA test would immediately prove it’s not me.
I still wanted to ruin the ring and bracelet I once revered, just because he gave them to me.
“Sasha!!”
The door to my room hits the wall as my baby cousin Mike runs inside. He’s grown so much since the last time I saw him over two years ago. His golden hair falls all over his forehead, nearly getting in his eyes as he crashes into me.
I pat his back. “Morning, Mishka.”
“Morning! Morning!” He slides his hand in mine. “C’mon, we need to have breakfast.”
I smile as he leads me down the hall of a small house located on the outskirts of Siberia. I never knew it existed, but apparently, it’s one of several safe houses my family owns all over the country.
Since Siberia is relatively safer than Saint Petersburg or Moscow, it’s the best place to be after the last attack.
We still don’t know how many men were there, but I know for sure that Maksim was right outside one of our family warehouses. He and his men exchanged fire with my uncle and the mercenaries he employed before he left. But not before one of his men shot Babushka.
She’s been recovering, but it’s bad. She hasn’t been able to leave her bed since. She hasn’t spoken to me either, saying that I’m already dead to her.
“Papa! Antosha! Sasha is here,” Mike announces the moment we arrive in the small kitchen downstairs. He then side hugs Anton, and my brother ruffles his hair.