Vitaly (Las Vegas Petrov Bratva #3)

23. Vitaly

23

VITALY

T he middle of the desert. That’s where the unknown person asked to meet.

Suspicious, no?

And yet that’s where I am, my cell phone back at the mansion just like he instructed. My Jeep is left in some alley in the city where I swapped it for this gray Honda Accord he left for me. Or maybe it’s a she? I don’t know. The typed note one of the girls gave me immediately upon arriving at the mansion didn’t have a signature, but they must’ve known I’d be stupid enough to follow their plans anyway, letting the GPS in the Honda take me to these exact coordinates.

I run my hand through my hair and close my eyes while leaning against the hood of the Honda. Whatever this is, it must be important, but I can’t take my mind off Mila.

I should’ve followed them. I know it in my gut. I shouldn’t have listened to her.

Nikita will only play his game with me for so long before he makes his move, and it feels like we’re running out of time. It didn’t bother me before when I had no intention of becoming a real threat to him, but now I wish I would’ve thought through things sooner. Strategized sooner. If I don’t have at least a quarter of the Bratva on my side, they’ll slaughter me, Mila, and everyone else who dares stand beside me.

I rub my temples and try not to think about what might be happening to Mila right now . She wasn’t at the mansion, and neither was Nikita.

When I take a steadying breath and open my eyes, I spot something in my periphery. I turn my head to see a car far in the distance coming this way. It takes a few minutes before it reaches me, grinding to a halt just in front of the Honda. The sun's glare on the windshield hides the person inside, but still, I shield my eyes with a hand and squint to see.

When the passenger door opens and Mila pops from the car, my eyes widen, and I push off the hood, opening my arms when she runs to me. Her shaking body crashes against my chest where she burrows her face, not saying a word.

“What happened?” I ask, trying to move her head so she’ll look at me, but she just hugs me tighter.

I close my eyes and squeeze. Relief that she’s at least physically okay washes over me despite her troubling emotional state.

The driver’s side door to the car opens, and Roman steps out.

Roman .

My eyes narrowing, I loosen my hold on Mila and urge her to move. “Get behind me.”

She shakes her head while I reach behind me for my gun, gripping the handle while searching Roman’s hands for a weapon of his own.

“It’s okay,” Mila tries to assure me. “He’s on our side.”

Our side. Roman?

No, I don’t think so.

I pull the gun from my waistband and point it at him. “Don’t take another step.”

He lifts his hands. “Listen to Mila, Vitaly. I’m not here to hurt anyone.”

“What were you doing with her?” I growl, one arm squeezing Mila while I use the other to hold the gun.

He lowers his hands, his face neutral, calm. Like he thinks I’d hesitate to kill him. I would. If there’s one person in the world I owe the most, it’s Gavriil, so killing his brother is the last thing I want to do. But if it’s necessary to protect Mila, or if he hurt Mila, then I will. And I find it very difficult to believe his intentions are pure.

“I was ordered to take her to the desert to kill her…” He gestures to us. “So you’re welcome.”

I search his expression, trying to make sense of that. I look at the car as if Alik will be the next to pop out.

Would he have really let her die?

“Why would you help her?” I ask, pushing away my thoughts of Alik.

Roman shakes his head. “It wasn’t for her…” His eyes lower. “No offense, Mila.” He looks back at me. “I brought her as a peace offering. It’s time we put aside our differences.”

I scoff, my head rearing back. “Do you honestly believe I’ll buy that? I understand why people dislike me, but you… You have every right to wish me death.”

“Oh, Vitaly.” He laughs, but it’s stilted with scorn, his lips drawing into a smile dripping with acid. “I wish so much worse for you than death. However much you think I hate you, triple it… I just happen to hate Nikita more.” He shrugs, but it isn’t nonchalant. His shoulders look heavy when he raises them, like he’s hoisting up all his resentment.

“How?” I ask, my mind fogged with confusion. “How could you possibly hate him more?”

He takes his time answering, a slow breath entering and exiting his nostrils. “You took my brother by mistake… Nikita’s twisted fucking reign has taken my brotherhood. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but it’s bad here. For everyone.”

I’ve noticed. I’ve certainly noticed that Nikita has made some enemies… I never could’ve predicted that Roman would be one of them.

I still don’t quite believe it.

“Still?” he asks, his brow raising as if I spoke the words aloud. When I don’t respond, he pulls a piece of paper from his back pocket, unfolds it, then holds it up for me to see.

If I hadn’t stared at the same image for hours at a time, I might have needed to walk closer to recognize it. But the moment my eyes hit the canvas, I let go of Mila to reach for my back pocket, still feeling the photo there.

“You?” I ask, my voice dropping.

He nods. “You owe me a hell of a lot of money for bribing your way out of prison, but I’ll let you pay it later… The Bratva needs you. Show up for us.”

Roman.

Roman .

I did not see that coming.

“What do you want me to do?” I ask, thinking through the list of lieutenants again. How many others have I been wrong about? How many could I get on my side?

“It’s already done.”

What?

I just gape at him, waiting for him to go on.

“In two days, Nikita will be hosting a dinner with all the lieutenants. We’ll attack then. We have about half on our side, so we’ll take out the top ranks first… Nikita, Alik, Grigoriy, then we’ll see who’s still resisting. Once we have the lieutenants, the soldiers should follow, and the ones who don’t will be executed. All we need you to do is show up and not die.”

“Alik?” I ask, my stomach turning at the mention of his death.

Roman frowns. “Look, I like the kid too. A hell of a lot more than I like you, but he’s good in combat, and he isn’t flipping. He’s got to go.”

I glance down at the top of Mila’s head, her father coming to my mind.

Fuck .

“What about Fyodor Alekseev? Has he flipped?”

Roman eyes Mila then shuffles his feet like he’s uncomfortable.

“What?” I ask, my brow furrowing.

He nods to Mila.

“He’s dead,” she says, finally pulling away from me. She takes a deep breath before looking up. “Nikita made me kill him.”

My muscles tense as my jaw drops. Moments pass while I stand stunned, my lips twitching, not knowing what to say.

Her features twist with pain as she shakes her head, as if relieving me of words, then hugs me again. I hug her back and try to absorb some of her sorrow. I don’t think it works.

How is this possible? How could my fun, playful uncle have turned into such a monster?

How could I have been gone for so long?

“There’s a cell phone under the seat of the Honda,” Roman motions toward the car. “I’ll text you directions to a safe house for Mila. Go back to the mansion and pretend like nothing is wrong… If you fail, Nikita will know I didn’t kill her, and I promise you he’ll finish the job. And he’ll kill me too, in case that matters.”

He gives Mila a pitied look before getting in his car and driving away, leaving me holding my broken queen. The more seconds that tick by, the less I feel capable of patience.

“We don’t have to wait,” I say, rubbing a circle over her back. “I could bring Nikita to you tonight. Now .”

She shakes her head. “It wouldn’t be good for the Bratva.”

“I care more about what’s good for you than what’s good for the Bratva.”

She pulls back to look me in the eyes. “The Bratva must always come first, Vitaly. Always.”

There’s a seriousness in her eyes that’s so firm, I don’t argue. I won’t dare disappoint her. Not right now.

She lays her head back against my chest when enough time passes that she believes her point has been made, and I don’t ruin it by telling her it’ll never be the way she claims she wants.

I was raised to always put the Bratva first, above my blood and above myself. Then the day came when the Bratva put me last.

I’ll never make that mistake again. Not even as their king.