Chapter 5
CHAPTER FIVE
LUKYAN VOLKOV
“Can we not throw one goddamn party without someone trying to fucking kill us?!” my father roared, thumping a closed fist down onto the table. He immediately winced, clutching his injured shoulder.
The doctor standing over him watched with fearful eyes, licking his dry lips nervously. “Sir, please, try to stay still.”
“Fucking Sergei!” he spat. “I’m going to kill him.
I’m going to fucking kill him. I’m going to strangle him, nice and slow, and then cut out his tongue and shove it down his fucking throat.
” He went off on a tangent, switching to Russian as he continued to threaten and cuss out Grandfather like a drunken sailor.
The doctor glanced around the room, looking for help. He couldn’t treat my father’s wound until he calmed down—something I didn’t think was going to happen anytime soon.
My siblings and I all avoided eye contact with the man.
Spread out around the kitchen in our home, we all sported our own injuries—nothing too severe, thank God.
Illayana and Arturo were sitting next to each other at the dining table opposite the kitchen island.
Aleksandr was leaning back on one of the barstools, Drea right beside him, holding a bloody bandage to his head.
Tatiana was seated in one of the armchairs Nikolai had dragged in from the lounge room, my brother behind her, massaging her shoulders.
Autumn was standing next to the doctor, hands on her hips, a cross look on her face.
And I was lounging back in one of the chairs in front of the dining table, my body relaxed but my mind hyperfocused.
Several maids were working hard, cooking up a feast and trying their best to get us all to eat and drink something. The kitchen was a hive of activity, everyone unsure what to do with themselves now that the battle was over.
Father was still going off.
Wow. He was really fucking pissed. I’d seen him rant before, but this…this was next-level.
And we all knew better than to interrupt him when he was like that.
He would run out of steam eventually. We just had to wait him out.
When Father got to his feet in a huff as if he was about to go and hunt down my grandfather right there and then, the doctor panicked, his eyes widening.
“Sir, sit down. Please. You’re in no condition—”
“I’m fine,” Father barked, taking a step forward.
“Sit. Down,” Autumn ordered, voice like ice.
Father hesitated, freezing on the spot. He licked his lips, and for the first time in my life, I saw nervousness skate across his features. “Autumn—”
She did nothing but narrow her eyes in warning.
Father collapsed back into his chair with an angry growl.
“You can grumble all you want, but your ass better not leave that chair again until the doctor is finished.”
Father grunted in acceptance.
Autumn looked at the doctor. “Go ahead.”
“Thank you, Miss DeValos.” Frederick pulled out a pair of surgical scissors from his medical bag and, with slightly shaky hands, cut my father’s shirt off his body. Blood stained Father’s skin, running down his torso.
As the doctor began to patch him up, Aleksandr took control of the meeting. “How many did we lose?”
Nikolai’s expression turned grim. “If we’re including the men who betrayed us, eleven soldiers and six family members.”
“We’re not including those fuckers as part of our losses,” Drea spat.
“Five soldiers then,” Nikolai amended.
That’s not too bad, I guess. Could have been worse. Much, much worse.
Aleksandr cursed. With a light touch, he pushed the bandage Drea held to his forehead away. Fury shone in his eyes. “We’ll have to notify the next of kin and begin the compensation payments.”
Every soldier who worked for us not only got paid a wage—a pretty fucking good one, if you asked me—but they also got a compensation package.
Money that could be paid to anyone they designated if the worst should happen and they died in service to the Bratva.
It was a way for them to know their loved ones would be cared for in the event of their deaths.
I opened my mouth to tell him I could do it, but Nikolai beat me to it.
“I’ll handle it.”
My mouth snapped shut, a sliver of annoyance cutting through me.
“Do we know what happened yet?” Arturo asked, his face a mask of anger and frustration.
“Based on the men who double-crossed us, I’d say it’s pretty obvious, don’t you think?” I said, answering Arturo’s question.
Everybody turned to look at me.
“What are you talking about?” Illayana asked. She wouldn’t know because she lived in New York, but the others would.
“All of the soldiers who attacked us were part of the group sent over from Russia to help replenish our numbers after Dominik’s attack.” When no one said anything, I added, “From Sergei.”
Duh.
Father cursed.
“Impossible.” Aleksandr frowned, though I could tell he was starting to put the pieces together.
“I vetted those soldiers myself. I interviewed every single one of them, and there was not a single trace of deceit or ill intentions from them. Sergei might have sent them to us, but they had no love for him.”
“How sure are you that they all were a part of the group sent over from Sergei?” Nikolai questioned.
“Mark Karamazov, Isaak Rostov, Yakov Agapov, Nazar Grigoriev, Denis Kirov, and Mishka Orlova,” I rattled off their names as I pulled a metal case from my pocket and opened it, plucking out a joint.
I lit it up. “Mark, twenty-seven years old. Star tattoo on his neck. He had a slight lisp when he talked, hated cilantro, and couldn’t dribble a basketball worth a damn.
Isaak had a wife and three children back in Russia.
He was glad to leave them. Thought it gave him free reign to fuck as many women as he wanted here without his wife finding out.
I never liked him, but he made a mean borscht.
Now, Yakov, he couldn’t cook. Like, he was really fucking bad.
I think the dude burned water one time. I didn’t even know that was possible.
But you know what he was good at? Tic-tac-toe.
That squirrely little fucker beat me every. Single. Time.”
I took a deep drag from the joint, holding it in my lungs for a beat before exhaling, blowing out three perfect rings that drifted up into the air.
“Nazar was a snake. Didn’t trust him as far as I could throw him.
And you know why? Because he didn’t like music.
What kind of person doesn’t like music? I’ll tell you who.
Psychopaths. That’s who,” I said, pointing the joint aggressively at no one in particular.
“Denis was a cool dude. I actually kinda liked him, but he’d always check out Drea’s ass whenever she walked past, and that’s a big no-no—”
“He what?!” Aleksandr roared.
“Shh,” I whispered, holding a finger to my lips.
“I’m in the middle of a tangent, and you never interrupt someone when they’re in the middle of a tangent.
It’s rude. Now, where was I? Oh, yeah. Lastly, Mishka.
There wasn’t anything technically wrong with her, except for the fact that she didn’t think I was attractive, which, now that I think about it, should have been a massive red flag right from the get-go.
” I frowned, then shook away the thought.
“Anyway, if that still isn’t enough proof for you that I knew them, you can check their personal files.
They’re organized alphabetically by last name in the archives room because I’m not a lunatic, and no matter what anyone says, alphabetically by their last name is the correct and only way to organize files. ”
It was at that exact moment that Flora placed a platter-sized plate in front of me. My mouth salivated.
“Mmm. Mini burgers. Yum.” I groaned. I put out my joint and dove right in.
I was about halfway through my third one when I noticed how quiet the room had gotten. Looking up, my mouth overflowing with food, I glanced around.
Everyone was looking at me with surprised, wide-eyed expressions, like they’d been stunned into complete silence.
Well, everyone except my father. He had the beginnings of a knowing smirk on his lips, eyes alight with glee. If I had to pick a saying for that particular expression, it’d have to be, that’s my boy.
But maybe that was just wishful thinking. What I hoped he was thinking.
“What?” I mumbled. “Do I have food on my face or something?” I wiped my lips with the back of my hand. Nothing.
“How…how did you do that?” Arturo asked, bewilderment in his voice.
“Do what, Arty?” I reached across the table and plucked a few fries from a bowl Flora had placed down, shoveling them into my mouth.
“You just spouted off a bunch of random facts about some soldiers like you were reading a goddamn grocery list. How did you remember all of that?”
I shrugged. “I pay attention.” Despite what you all think.
“Why would they do this?” Aleksandr asked no one in particular. “They were here for over six months, with no indication they were under Sergei’s control. What changed?”
“They could have been sleepers,” I suggested in between bites.
“You know, planted within our ranks with the distinct purpose of gaining our trust so that when we least expected it, they could attack and catch us completely off guard. Grandfather must have gotten fed up with the failed attempts from all those fancy assassins, and in a last-ditch effort to get what he wanted—our darling father’s imminent demise—he activated his sleeper soldiers and told them to kill him. ”