Chapter 53
CHAPTER
FIFTY-THREE
KIRILL
The compound is on the outskirts of Queens, all concrete walls and razor wire, the kind of place that doesn’t officially exist on any map. Marina’s soldiers let us through, the heavy steel gates rolling open the moment our SUV approaches.
Matvey drives, his knuckles white on the steering wheel. Dem sits in back, chain-smoking, ash accumulating in the cup holder. We haven’t spoken since leaving the hospital.
What is there to say?
The compound’s main building is utilitarian, no frills, just function. Marina’s lieutenant, the woman with the shaved head and the scar, meets us at the entrance and escorts us to the basement, although dungeon is a more fitting term.
The place reeks of mold and piss and the sour stench of death. A fitting place for Ruslan to end his days. It’s not just him here. Marina captured everyone who had a hand in the trafficking network.
Ruslan is chained to the ceiling, hanging in the center of the room from his wrists. His face is already bruised and swollen from whatever Marina’s people did to him when they brought him in. He’s stripped naked. No dignity in the end. A touch I appreciate.
His head lifts as we approach, and he glares at us like we’re the enemy. Traitors to the family.
He’s more fucked up than I ever imagined.
I close the door behind us, and Matvey and Dem flank me on either side.
“Come to gloat?” he husks out. “Do you think I’ll beg for your mercy? You can turn around and leave right now because I’ll never fucking apologize for doing what I had to do. There’s a reason the Baronovs rule New York and it’s because of me.”
“You don’t rule shit anymore. Look at you. Pathetic.” I circle him while my brothers stand perfectly still, watching him with cold, dead eyes. “You tell yourself that you did what you had to do, but we all know you did what you wanted to do. Because you’re a sick fuck.”
“You murdered our mother,” Matvey says, his voice shaking with barely controlled rage. “You killed her and let us believe it was an accident for eighteen years.”
Ruslan glares and spits blood onto the concrete, knowing better than to try and defend his actions.
Dem steps forward and pulls the cigarette from his mouth, pressing the burning tip directly into Ruslan’s left eye.
The sizzle is immediate, followed by the stomach-turning smell of burning flesh and singed hair.
Ruslan’s scream is music to my ears: guttural, animalistic, echoing off the concrete walls.
For several long seconds, he hangs there gasping, his body shaking, sweat dripping from his face onto the concrete. Then, slowly, his remaining eye focuses on Demyan.
“There it is. There’s the violence. Maybe there’s hope for you after all, Demyan,” he rasps through clenched teeth.
“Shut the fuck up,” Demyan hisses, his fingers tightening like a vise around the old man’s throat.
I tilt my head to look up at him where he hangs suspended, his feet barely touching the ground.
“I spent my entire life trying to earn your approval. Trying to be the son you wanted, the heir you needed. What a waste of fucking time.”
“And you failed,” he spits. “You chose a woman over the Bratva.”
“No.” I shake my head. “I chose love over your empire of suffering. Your empire doesn’t exist anymore.
You don’t exist anymore. You won’t even be a footnote in history.
Our children will never know your name. We’ll tell them you died along with our mother in that car accident. That’s how insignificant you are.”
He created a legacy of pain, but that ends now.
Ruslan’s expression twists into something ugly. “My children are pathetic. A disgrace. All of you.”
Matvey reaches into his jacket and pulls out a pair of heavy-duty pliers.
“I think you’re the one who’s disgraced now.
” He steps closer, examining Ruslan’s genitals.
“Marina made us promise to leave you alive because she has big plans for you. But that leaves a lot of room for interpretation, don’t you think? ”
For the first time, something cracks in his expression. It’s not fear, but the realization that we’ve turned against him.
Matvey moves the cold metal into place, gripping Ruslan’s balls with the pliers. “This is for Mama.” The words are a quiet vow, followed by a sharp snap of the blades that causes Ruslan to howl like a lost soul in hell.
I stand back and watch as my brothers exorcise their demons, never looking away, never flinching.
Part of me wants to join in, to make him hurt the way he made our mother hurt, the way he made Katya and Marina and countless other women hurt.
But a bigger part of me just wants to get back to Dinara, to make sure she’s okay, to take care of her.
When the floor grows slick with his blood and he’s passed out, I tell my brothers, “That’s enough.”
They step back, breathing hard, looking like death incarnate.
I look at my father one last time. This man I once idolized, who I thought was invincible. Now I can see how very wrong I was. He’s just a broken, bleeding shell of a man who destroyed everyone who ever loved him.
“I’m going to live my life knowing I’m married to a woman I love,” I say, even though he’s not conscious. “Knowing I’m happy. Knowing I have everything I want. And none of it is because of you. Every good thing in my future will be in spite of you, not because of you.”
I walk away knowing I’ll never have to see that miserable piece of shit again.
An hour later I walk back into Dinara’s private hospital room, freshly showered and changed, and dying to see her.
I pause in the doorway, my eyes sweeping the very full, very boisterous room. She texted me earlier to let me know her family had arrived and she’d filled them in on everything, but seeing them all here makes it real.
A massive blond man stands near the window, with crossed arms and piercing gray eyes that land on me the second I walk in.
Pavel Fedorov. We’ve never met in person but I recognize the leader of the Belov Syndicate from intel reports. Moscow-based, ruthless as they come, and he’s currently looking at me like he’s deciding which bones to break first.
Beside him is a petite woman with glossy dark hair and a warm smile, holding the hand of a small boy with bright blue eyes and lashes that would make grown women jealous. This is Pavel’s wife and child, Hope and Kin.
In the chair closest to Dinara’s bed is a stocky older man with a bushy salt-and-pepper beard and hands that look like they’ve seen decades of hard work. Yarik Potapov. Her father.
All eyes are on me.
Before anyone can speak, Kin pipes up. “Are you Dinara’s pretend husband?”
I blink. “What?”
“Kin,” Hope says gently, but the kid’s already committed.
“My papa said the marriage wasn’t real. That it was for pretend.”
A laugh escapes me and I crouch down to his level. “Your papa’s got it wrong, buddy. Our marriage is as real as it gets. We just did it a little out of order.”
Kin considers this seriously. “Oh. Okay.”
I rise to my full height and lock eyes with Pavel, whose expression remains stone-faced. Let him get his panties in a knot. It doesn’t change a damn thing.
I cross to Dinara’s bedside. She looks exhausted, but her eyes light up when she sees me, and I lean down to kiss her forehead, then her lips.
“How are you feeling?” I murmur against her mouth.
“Better now that you’re here.”
I straighten and turn to face the room. Dinara sits up straighter despite the pain it clearly causes her. “I guess introductions are in order. Kirill, this is my father, Yarik. And that’s Pavel and Hope, and their son, Kin.”
Yarik stands, extending his hand. His grip is strong, his gaze assessing, but at least he’s not hostile. “Kirill. Dinara’s filled us in on… everything.”
“I imagine that was a lot to process.”
“That’s one way of putting it.” But there’s no anger in his voice, just wariness.
Hope steps forward with a genuine smile, shaking my hand. “It’s lovely to meet you, even if this is a less-than-ideal scenario. I told Dinara to meet a tall, dark, and handsome stranger. I guess she took me literally.”
Dinara giggles, and I return Hope’s smile. At least that’s one person I don’t have to win over.
Kin tugs on his mother’s sleeve. “Can we go find the Ninja Turtles now? I’m bored.”
“Not yet, love,” Hope says patiently.
Kin turns to me with a frown. “Do you know how to find them? Dinara said they live in the sewers.”
I scratch my chin. “I’ve only heard rumors, but they’re very tricky. I don’t think they like to be found. Also, the sewers are very stinky.” I waft my hand in front of my nose.
Kin shrugs and moves on to staring at all the medical machines Dinara’s hooked up to.
Pavel hasn’t moved from his position by the window, and when I meet his eyes, the temperature in the room drops about ten degrees. This is alpha meeting alpha, and he’s not happy about the situation.
“So you’re the man who forced Dinara into marriage.”
“Pavel,” Dinara warns. “Pot calling kettle black.” I remember her mentioning their marriage wasn’t a mutual decision either. But clearly, all’s well that ends well.
His lips twist. “What? I’m just stating facts.”
“It’s true,” I admit, holding his gaze. “The ‘I do’ part took a little bit of coercion. But we wouldn’t still be here if we weren’t meant to be. She’s the love of my life, and I’m hers. Everything else is just details.”
“Love.” He says the word like it tastes bitter. “What happens now? You staying in New York? Taking over as pakhan? What’s the endgame?”
“Jesus, babe, give them five minutes to breathe,” Hope scolds, delivering a gentle elbow to her husband’s ribs. He responds by hauling her against him and pressing a kiss to her temple.
Dinara makes a puking noise. “Okay, I think we’re done interrogating Kirill like he’s a hostile witness.”
Despite the tension, I can’t help but smile because he obviously cares for Dinara like a brother. “We haven’t worked out all the details yet. What we know is we’re staying together. The rest we’ll handle as it comes.”
Yarik sighs. “I guess this means you’re staying in New York, Dinochka.”
“For a while. After that we’ll see,” she says softly.
Yarik nods, but I catch the sadness flickering across his face. I hate thinking I’m taking his daughter from him, especially after everything he’s already lost.
“I don’t care where I am as long as I’m with you,” I say and mean it.
If this hellscape of the last 48 hours has shown me one thing, it’s that she’s my home.
Nothing else matters. And I am going to spend the rest of my life taking care of her, making sure she is happy and cared for, and gets every little thing in this world she could ever hope for. Ever desire.
Dinara reaches for my hand and I take it, lacing our fingers together. “You got yourself a deal, husband.”
The room settles into something less hostile, though Pavel still looks like he’s mentally cataloging my weak points for future reference. He’ll come around eventually.
Kin climbs onto the foot of Dinara’s bed and launches into a rambling story about turtles and dinosaurs and whether New York has good museums. Dinara promises to take him to see the dinosaur skeletons when she’s healed, and his face lights up like she just offered him the world.
After a while, I catch Yarik’s eye and gesture with my head toward the door. He stands without a word and follows me into the hallway, and we walk until we’re far enough from the room that no one will overhear.
His weathered face is serious and his hands slip into his pockets as he waits for me to speak.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t do this the first time,” I say, feeling slightly awkward for the first time in my life.
“We might be married, but I want to do this right. I want to give Dinara a real wedding. And for that I want your blessing. I want her to have the celebration she deserves with everyone she loves around her.”
He studies me with knowing eyes. “My daughter has already chosen you. How could I say no? She’s made it clear that you’re the love of her life. That this whole crazy journey was worth it because it brought her to you.”
Something ignites in my chest. “I feel the same way about her. She’s everything to me.”
He reaches out and grips my shoulder. “Then you have my blessing. Take care of my girl.”
“I will. I promise.”