Chapter 5 Liev
LIEV
I watch her until she’s in the building.
She walks quickly past the doorman, her head angled so that her loose hair obscures her face.
The man eyes her curiously, but I don’t think he’ll be a problem.
The elevator doors open immediately, and when she steps in, she lifts her head and stares in my direction.
It’s too far for her to see me clearly. At the last minute, as the doors slide shut, she lifts her hand with a wave goodbye.
It’s a tiny gesture that shouldn’t feel like a punch to the chest or take the air from my lungs.
She shocked the hell out of me when she kissed me. But she pulled back so fast I didn’t have time to react—no time to kiss her back, no time to think about what a bad idea it is to put any part of my body on a girl that is too young and far too traumatized for someone like me.
I can still smell her scent—something earthy and sweet. I shake my head and pull my phone from my pocket. I don’t have time for this. Not now.
Alex is already waiting when I pull up in front of his house.
Despite the freezing weather, he’s barefoot on the stone steps, wearing black sweatpants and a fitted T-shirt.
His arms are folded and his jaw set in a way that says I’ve dragged him from his wife’s warm bed, and he is absolutely pissed about it.
He shoves a hand through his dark hair as I push my door open. “What the fuck, Liev?”
I step out and face him. The night air bites at my skin, but it doesn’t touch the sweat prickling along my spine. Now that Sera is safely tucked away at home, the reality of what I’m about to do is hitting me.
My next words will change my life and Alex’s. They could destroy us both, depending on his decision. I’m fully prepared to accept my fate, and I will understand if he chooses his young family’s safety over me.
Alex’s expression tightens as if he senses the danger before I speak. His voice drops “Tell me.”
“I killed him.”
“Who?” Alex doesn’t look surprised. It’s a fact of life in our world.
I angle my head toward the back of the car and start walking. His bare footsteps follow. He says nothing as I hit the fob and the trunk lifts.
The soft hiss of air leaving his lungs is the only acknowledgement that he recognizes who lies folded inside the trunk.
Sergei. His uncle. My father.
“What happened?” he asks, voice flat.
“Does it matter?”
“It fucking matters,” he snarls. “Give me something, Liev. And why is Petyr Petrova in there with him?”
“It was always going to happen,” I say, stubbornly refusing to give an explanation. I don’t want to lie to him. He’s not just my cousin. He’s my best friend.
Alex’s lips twitch with something like disbelief. “And you decided tonight was the night?”
“Yes.”
His eyes narrow, and his voice is arctic. “Again, I ask—what happened?”
“My father killed Petyr because he was skimming.”
Alex’s face hardens, and I sigh. “I figured I should take both until I could decide what to do.”
“Bullshit.” The word cracks out in the darkness. “Who killed your father?”
“I did.” I know the words are potentially signing my death warrant, but I don’t have an ounce of regret. This is the right thing to do. A chance to make up for things I’ve done at my father’s behest.
My jaw locks, and I stare at Alex. He heaves a sigh, looking down at my father’s face again. Then he stills. He leans closer, angling my father’s chin away from us, exposing the long, jagged scratches I assume Sera’s nails left in his skin.
Slowly, he straightens. “No one will retaliate against her.”
Fuck.
He watches me silently, waiting for my response. Alex has always had a preternatural way of knowing what is happening without being told, but there’s no way he could know about Sera.
“I understand why you’d want to take the blame for her,” he continues. “Mikhail won’t hurt your mother. Everyone knows how bad it’s gotten—how volatile Sergei has become. There’s been talk before about intervention.”
My stomach twists. He’s right. My mother would survive Mikhail’s wrath. But she would be exiled. She wouldn’t want to live cast out of the only world she’d ever known.
The decision is easy.
“I killed him,” I repeat stonily.
We hold each other’s gaze, both of us knowing what this means.
He can’t stop what’s coming.
But selfishly, I want him beside me when it does.
“Bratan.” The word is rough, torn from him. “You know what will happen.”
I tip my chin up.
“Fuck, Liev.” He drags a hand down his face. A muscle pulses in his cheek. “Give me ten minutes to get dressed. I’ll go with you.”
I nod. Gratitude that I didn’t have to ask lodges like a bullet in my chest.
We wait in Mikhail’s palatial home office, a room that reeks of smoke, leather, and power.
Alex hasn’t said a word to me since he emerged from his home dressed in a suit, Madison pale in the doorway behind him.
The pinched skin around her eyes and the way she cradled her baby bump gave away that Alex told her what was happening.
I’m glad they have each other, that Alex found the family he’d always wanted. I wish I’d had the chance…
I banish the thought.
No point in regrets now.
When Mikhail storms in, robe cinched tight, he slams the gun already in his hand on his desk before taking a seat in his leather chair.
Alex speaks for me—smooth, measured, deadly calm—spinning a much better story than the few facts I gave him.
Mikhail’s lips part at the news of Sergei’s death. But the emotion shutters quickly. His stony gaze slices to me. Sergei wasn’t just Mikhail’s top vor and uncle. He was Mikhail’s friend.
His loss is both business and personal.
Snatching the gun from his desk, he surges to his feet, pointing it at my head.
I pull in a slow breath and keep my eyes open, meeting Mikhail’s unrelenting dark gaze.
Being the illegitimate son of the last pakhan, Alex avoided the worst of the bratva after he reached twenty-three, and his father assigned him the role as head of all the legal activities that grew the Kovalyov fortune.
I never had that luxury. I was a soldier, an enforcer. I did what I was told without thought as to right or wrong. My loyalty was to the brotherhood. Until tonight, where in one inexplicable moment it had shifted to her.
For those of us deep in the blood-soaked trenches, there would never be a happily ever after. Live by the sword, die by the sword. The adage sounds in my head almost drowning out Alex’s next words.
“You should see the body,” he says coolly.
Mikhail’s finger twitches on the trigger.
“Mikhail. Bratan.” Alex’s voice is more deferential than normal, but when his brother doesn’t lower the gun, he snaps, “The body.”
My heartbeat counts out what are surely the last seconds of my life while Mikhail stares at me. I don’t beg for forgiveness or offer an explanation. I will not spend my last moments groveling pointlessly. Mikhail wouldn’t care.
Instead, I picture the beautiful woman with sad hazel eyes, and regret spears through me.
Will she be okay?
I wish…
“Let’s go.” Alex’s hand clamps on my shoulder, and I realize I’ve missed an exchange between them. He pushes me from the room, and we follow Mikhail to the car parked in his motor court.
Mikhail stands over the trunk, staring down at Sergei. His jaw works, as if he’s chewing through grief and rage in equal measure.
Finally, he straightens. “You killed your father?”
“Yes.”
He studies me for a long, unbearable beat. Then barks to his guards in rapid Russian, “Bring me Irina Kovalyov.”
Panic flashes hot through my veins. “Why do you need my mother? Leave her out of this.” I square my shoulders, challenging my pakhan in a way I never would if I weren’t already facing certain death. “Unless you plan to make her watch her only son’s execution.”
My words are ignored, and Alex squeezes my shoulder hard, silencing me.
Fuck. What if they question her? What will she say?
Mikhail returns to the house, and we follow him to his study. He downs a glass of vodka not offering either of us one.
The next hour of my life might be the most excruciating I’ve ever experienced as Mikhail alternates between glaring at me and quizzing Alex about some new deal he’s trying to close.
I guess even my father’s death doesn’t slow down the Kovalyov money-making machine.
When my mother arrives, she’s clearly terrified. She looks small as she hovers in the doorway. The bruises mottling her cheek and jaw stand out sharply against her pale skin, even more so than when she called me hysterically crying hours earlier. A fresh wave of fury rolls through my chest.
I’m glad the bastard is dead.
“Come in, Irina.” Mikhail smiles gently at her. “You have nothing to fear here.”
She steps forward, her eyes darting between Mikhail, Alex and where I’m sitting on the small sofa.
“What’s happening?” Her voice cracks as she meets my gaze.
Alex steps immediately to her side, steadying her with a hand under her elbow. He murmurs something low, but I can’t make out the words.
Mikhail rounds his desk. There is no hiding the power he wields, but his demeanor is softer with my mother. He stops in front of her and brushes his knuckles lightly over her cheek as she flinches back. “I’m sorry to wake you, tyotya. I needed to see for myself.”
My mother’s lip trembles.
His voice firms. “Sergei?”
Her throat works, and a tear slips free.
“Mama.” I hate that she’s embarrassed, as if the marks on her body are her fault.
Her face crumples at the word. Covering her mouth with a shaking hand she sobs. “I’m so sorry, Mishka. I shouldn’t have—”
“Don’t think about it,” Alex cuts off her words smoothly.
I know what she’s apologizing for, even if they don’t.
The same thing she’s apologized for my entire life.
For not being stronger.
For not leaving him.
For letting his brutality rule our home.
But I know her words have only cemented the assumption that Mikhail has jumped to—the same one Alex did.
That my mother killed her abusive husband. A battered woman pushed too far.