Chapter 36
Vanya
The headlights cut through rain-slicked darkness as I guide the car up the long curve of Roman’s driveway. It’s nearly two in the morning, and Paige’s fingers intertwine with mine on the center console. The book sits in its protective box on the back seat.
Mission complete.
Reunited with my girl.
Life couldn’t get any better.
The main house comes into view, showing the gray stone walls and lavish, white balconies of the Kozlov estate. I’m a little worried about how a second trip into the heart of the Bratva will impact her stress levels, but so far, she’s handling everything like a champ. I look over at her.
Paige isn’t even tense. No white-knuckle grip on the armrest or even rapid breathing.
She’s been here today already, met the men I consider family, walked into the lion’s den by herself, and somehow walked back out with the rowdiest of them all at her back.
My knight in shining armor, only hers is comprised of leggings and an oversize t-shirt.
Damn, she’s so beautiful.
The thought barely forms before I notice the car. A Honda Civic sits at an angle in front of the main doors, blocking half the circular drive.
The scene screams of wrongness.
No one parks here without permission.
“That’s my rental.” Paige’s voice is soft, almost apologetic. “I needed one to drive out here.”
Ah. Of course.
She spent most of the return trip explaining everything that happened while I was gone. How she figured out Gio’s plan, put herself back together, and traveled to the Bratva for help using the address she glimpsed on my driver’s license.
The knot in my shoulders loosens slightly.
Max stops his SUV in front of Paige’s car and jumps out before I’ve even shifted into park.
I pull in behind the rental and kill the engine, getting out as quickly as possible. After everything we’ve been through, I can’t wait to get the book into Roman’s hands and whisk Paige to my bedroom.
Raised voices from the house break the late-night silence. Warm golden light spills out through the floor-to-ceiling glass flanking the front doors, revealing moving shapes.
I recognize Igor’s voice first. I can’t decipher what he’s saying but the tone is loud and angry. Then Mikhail, Roman’s brother, responds sharply, with more control but no less fury.
Are they fighting?
Max pauses halfway to the door, his shoulders going rigid. His hand drifts toward his jacket, not drawing his weapon yet, but ready.
Paige climbs out, frowning at the front of the house. As I open my mouth to give her directions to my room, a figure rolls out from beneath her empty car.
Time slows. Details sharpen.
An intruder is in the compound. Near Paige. Near my Pakhan and the others.
I reach for the gun at my hip, launching into action before conscious thought forms.
After a brief pause, Paige mimics me and grabs the weapon tucked in the back of her pants.
Max must sense the threat because he spins. The shadowy figure darts toward him, straight at the door that starts to crack open.
No. Fuck. No.
His face materializes in the light pouring from the windows. Eyes wide with desperation. Dark hair cropped close along one side. Mouth opening.
Wait. I know him.
Sasha. The betrayer. The man we all considered a brother.
What the hell is he doing at the Kozlov headquarters when there’s a kill order on him?
Has he lost his damn mind?
“I’m not a traitor!” Sasha stumbles forward and raises trembling hands. “Max, Vanya, you have to believe me! I never… I didn’t…”
Max whips his gun out, so fucking fast that he must’ve drawn the second he heard Sasha’s voice. Then he does something that stuns me.
He hesitates.
The front door explodes open, the burst of additional light painting everything in stark relief.
“Stand down!” Roman’s booming command cuts through the wind and the ringing in my ears.
Out of the corner of my eye, I spot him towering in the doorway, with Igor and Mikhail at his sides. Sergei Vasilyev, Roman’s personal bodyguard and the man Pakhan turns to for everything, appears from the shadows behind them, his weapon raised and steady.
Stand down?
Who’s he talking to? Sasha? Me? Max?
Hope transforms Sasha’s expression, calm washing over him as if Roman’s demand provides absolution. “Pakhan! I knew you’d see reason.” He sprints toward the steps, his feet sliding on the gravel.
Max’s eyes narrow as he distills the situation into cold, hard facts. A second later, I read the decision in his expression.
A possibly armed exile is advancing on our Pakhan and ignoring orders.
Max believes he has to neutralize the blatant threat.
Time stills. I open my mouth, but the warning sticks in my throat.
Max’s shot is clean.
The bullet steals the hope from Sasha’s face, along with his nose, lips, and one eye. Sasha’s head snaps back, and his body follows the momentum.
Two more shots. Center mass. Perfect grouping. Textbook execution.
Sasha crumples to the ground. Blood pools into the rocks in a sick pattern of death.
The breath rushes from my lungs. My stomach falls out, and my knees go weak. Though I’m not close enough, I swear I can smell the iron, the rust.
“Sasha! My son!” Time resumes normal speed as Igor’s raw, primal scream rips through the night.
I want to join him, to rage for my foolish friend, but it’s not my place. Sasha isn’t mine to mourn first.
Igor surges forward, stumbles down the steps, and drops to his knees. His shaking hands hover over Sasha’s ruined face. “No, no, no. Sasha, no…”
Shifting to the side, I do my best to protect Paige from this horror.
She stands frozen, her hand coming up to clutch my shirt. “Vanya—”
“Shh.” I pull her tight against my chest. “Not now.”
I don’t know what to say. What to do. I’m as stuck as Paige, watching Igor—a man I’ve never seen crumble—weep over his youngest son’s corpse.
Max stands between the fallen Sasha and his leaders, his gun still aimed to ensure no threat remains. His face is blank. Professional.
The mask we all wear when we do the ugly work the family business requires.
“Pakhan?” His voice is all wrong. Soft, uncertain.
“I just found out. An hour ago.” Roman stares at Sasha’s body, now on Igor’s lap as the wretched man cries and rocks back and forth.
“My informant in the department called. He had proof that the cop approached Sasha to harass him. Video footage from a store, complete with the audio.” He stops.
Swallows. “Sasha told him to fuck off. Refused to answer questions. Did everything right.”
The words hang in the fog-filled air.
My stomach clenches.
“Sasha was framed, Max.” Roman’s voice is barely a whisper. “He never betrayed us.”
Max’s gun clatters to the gravel.
At my side, Paige doubles over and retches.
Sergei lowers his weapon slowly and backs into the shadows. Even he can’t endure this.
I can’t move. Can’t think. Can’t process what I just witnessed.
Max just killed one of our own.