Vitaly (Las Vegas Petrov Bratva #3)

5. Vitaly

5

VITALY

T he girl, woman , shudders as she takes a step back, my name on her lips nothing but a fearful whisper.

Last night, watching her shove a knife into the neck of a man while putting up a respectable fight against the rest, I found it hard to believe she was truly that young girl I met years ago.

Now, she pulls her mask off, showing me the same youthful fear in her eyes I remember.

She’s brave. She’s even beautifully strong.

But she’s still just a woman.

“It’s all right, Mila,” I say, turning my body to face her fully. “You’re safe now.”

Her chest heaves dramatically with her breathing, her face white like she’s looking at a ghost. But as my words seem to register, her face pinches. “What?”

I take a step her way then hold up my hands, pausing as she flinches into a fighting stance, her fists lifting in front of her.

I point to the small kitchen behind her. “On the counter is a passport for you along with ten thousand dollars in cash. It’s all I could get right now. I’m sorry, my resources are limited. But, Mila, you never have to go back to the Petrov house again… You’re free.”

Her head swivels to the kitchen then quickly back to me as if she thinks I plan on lunging at her. I back up until my heel hits the brick of the fireplace, keeping my hands raised.

She’s hunched over like a mountain lion ready to strike, but she doesn’t make a move. I can see her mind working behind her brown eyes as she tries to figure me out.

“I apologize for putting you to sleep last night,” I offer to put her mind at ease. “I only wanted to get you out of there and taken care of before any more soldiers came… I wrapped your ribs in case anything is broken, but I think you’re just bruised.” I gesture to her strong posture. “You seem to be doing fine.”

She doesn’t respond for several seconds. “What did you do with the soldiers?”

I lower my hands and point to the window overlooking the front lawn. “They’re in the SUV.”

“Are any alive?” her brow raises.

I shake my head.

“Hm.” She stands up straight and slowly lowers her fists, arching her chin like she’s challenging me. Or maybe that’s just how she carries herself when she isn’t afraid.

Mila turns and walks a few steps to the kitchen before looking over her shoulder like she’s going to catch me with my hand in a cookie jar.

She finds the envelope I set out for her on the counter and looks through it, her back shielding the contents. She takes her time looking it over, probably inspecting the passport for any errors. I admire the need for precision, but when another minute passes, it seems excessive.

Glancing down at the poker leaned against the brick, I pick it up and move around a log before putting it in its place.

“So I’m free, then,” Mila says, wandering back toward me with the passport held up in her hand. “I can just … run away, like you did.”

My brows pull together at the comment. The way she’s walking toward me—her hips swaying like a snake—poison swirling in her irises... If she showed her teeth, they’d be dripping venom.

“Is that what you think I want, Vitaly? To be a cowardly traitor like you?”

My gaze moves from the passport she holds up to the hand she conceals behind her back. When I find her eyes, they’re pinched in a concentrated scowl. She winds her arm to fling the paring knife she stole from the kitchen at my chest, but she’s too obvious, too slow. I slide my body out of the way and let it clatter against the fireplace.

“Ahh!” she screams, running at me with her fist raised. I catch her wrist just before it can connect with my jaw and lift my knee to block her leg from swinging into my crotch.

All her moves are predictable. Every hit is written on her face before she even swings.

She’s brave. Fierce .

But I wasn’t sent away to Candy Land nine years ago. I’ve been in prison, and not the American kind. She’s going to have to do so much better than this to catch me off guard.

“Enough,” I growl, swinging her around and pinning her to the wall. Her breaths come out labored, her cheeks an angry pink, and though I have her wrists in my grasp above her head, she still uselessly tries to kick until I shove my knee between her legs. “ Enough .”

“Fuck you!” She spits onto my nose, making my eyes snap shut as I turn my head away. “You fucking coward. You’re supposed to be dead!”

Wiping my nose on my shoulder, I glower at her with my grip on her wrists tightening. “Well, I’m not.”

“Then you better kill me,” she rasps out, her voice lowering as her lip curls. Pure hatred swims in her eyes. “Because if you don’t, you’re dead. I’m not going to stop until you’re in the ground, traitor .”

Her words bite into old wounds reopened by her sharp teeth. My chest constricts, but I don’t let it show on my face.

Traitor .

That’s what I am to these people.

I’m the man who got their families killed. Who got their leader killed. My father killed.

I knew that. I knew that’s what I was to them. I just didn’t realize that’s what I was to her.

“I don’t know what you’ve been told, but none of my past matters,” I say, my voice firm. “I’m very sorry for the things the Bratva has put you through. I only mean to?—”

“That they’ve put me through?” She laughs, her eyes incredulously wide. “You made a mockery of my whole family, destroyed my value, killed your father, and abandoned your people. But you think they are the monsters? That Nikita is?” She shakes her head. “Don’t you dare mistake yourself for a white knight. You cannot save me, pig .” When her cheeks cave in like she’s gathering saliva, I slap my hand over her mouth.

“ Stop that ,” I growl. “I’m not here to be your white knight. I’m here because my father gave you to me, and I wanted to honor that.” I release her wrists and haul her by her shoulder to the middle of the room before giving her a shove toward the door. “You want to be my uncle’s whore? Fine. Go. I gave you your shot. It isn’t my problem that you’re too stupid to take it.”

Mila turns and picks up the passport off the floor, her nostrils flared. I think maybe she’s come to her senses, but no. Standing up straight, she rips the passport in half and tosses it back on the ground.

“ Alekseevs do not abandon our people.”

I scoff, blood filling my ears at this woman’s misguided loyalty. “ Your people? The brotherhood is not your people, stupid girl. You’re their property.”

She laughs like I’m missing something, but it’s stunted. She knows there’s truth to my words. “You’ve been gone a long time. Just because you threw me away doesn’t mean someone else didn’t see my worth… I’m no one’s whore and no one’s property.” She holds her head high and seems to force a wicked smile. “Although, I’ll warn you, my husband is possessive. As soon as the Pakhan finds out you’ve taken me, you’re dead. I promise you that.”

“Husband?” I tilt my head. “Do you think I’m stupid?”

“Yes.” She nods. “Stupid enough to kidnap a Pakhan’s wife.”

I nod slowly and don’t bother pointing out the state I found her in last night. Nikita has her running jobs without protection, and to make matters worse, it was his own people who attacked her. If I had to guess, I’d say Nikita isn’t too worried about keeping Mila around.

She’s in danger. How can she not see that?

I don’t know. It isn’t my problem.

I did what I could.

“Nikita tried to kill me once already,” I shrug, remembering the assassins who came to me in Russia once I was out of prison. Their arrival was no surprise. I’d been expecting them. “He can try again.”

She glares at me while I wave to the door. “Run along now. The slaughterhouse is waiting… Keys are in the ignition.”

“Fuck you, Vitaly.”

I dip my chin. “You already said that.”

With one last sneer, she turns and runs out the door like she expects me to shoot her in the back. I walk to the window and watch her speed away in the same SUV that showed up to kill her.

Stupid, stupid girl.