Brutal Games

Prologue

Dmitri

“The Pakhan’s meeting is running behind,” said the guard, not bothering to look up from his phone.

When the guard met my eyes, he flinched.

My day just kept getting better and fucking better. One of my protection rackets had decided that today would be an excellent day to grow some balls and refuse to pay. I believe the text had said something to the tune of, “What am I even paying for?”

But instead of stringing the bar’s owner from his office ceiling and showing him who he truly needed protection from, I was waiting on the Pakhan–the head of the Russian mob–to finish up his meeting.

To my left, a crashing noise echoed through the wall. It was followed by a wet, crunching noise.

“It sounds like the meeting’s over now,” I said.

Now I could get this sit down with the Pakhan over with and–

My statement was immediately refuted by a high-pitched screech, and the rumble of the Pakhan’s voice. I scrubbed a hand across my face.

“Have him call me when he’s ready,” I said to the guard. “I’ll be down the hall.”

At least, it didn’t sound like his meeting would last much longer.

I maneuvered down the familiar hallways of the Bratva’s headquarters, finding one of the few rooms that had a broken camera. I’d sworn loyalty to the Pakhan just like everyone else in the Bratva, but I wasn’t about to let him eavesdrop on my phone calls.

After all, why make it easy for the paranoid man, when he was working so hard to infiltrate the confidence of the men loyal only to me? It’d be a pity to end his futile–and obvious–attempts to glean some dirt on me.

I might be his heir apparent in the Bratva, but under the surface he trusted me just as much as I trusted him.

I settled onto a couch at the far end of the cavernous room. As much as I’d rather be personally testing my hypothesis of how many bones you could break before someone passed out, the issue with the bar owner needed to be dealt with now. I took out my phone to deliver the orders to my men.

Before I could even unlock my phone, the only door to the room slammed open and…

A blonde woman and man were unceremoniously shoved inside.

From the hallway a voice said, “The next time this door opens, your brother better be dead.”

A sharp knife was tossed in front of them, and then the door clicked closed.

I groaned. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

Twin pairs of blue eyes snapped in my direction. It took me a moment, but I vaguely recognized the two of them. The siblings were fellow participants in the Pakhan’s fucked up competition to become his heir.

When the Pakhan had discovered he was unable to father children, rather than adopt an heir or choose one of his loyal followers, he started a competition that I’d been participating in since I was born.

All the candidates were sent on assignments and forced to demonstrate their value to the Vassiliev Bratva. The results determined how high we ranked in the competition to become the Pakhan’s heir.

The twist was that only children of the Pakhan’s loyal followers were allowed to participate. My mother had birthed me and my deceased brother with the sole purpose of us participating.

I’d finally reached number one in the rankings.

And these two here, where did they stand? I frowned, trying to remember their names. Amongst the competitors they were on the periphery, never reaching a ranking high enough to be a threat or doing anything to catch my attention.

The siblings’ names finally popped into my head: Alisa and Kiril Solovyov. Although I barely recognized Kiril underneath the mess of bruises peppering his face and the bone peeking through the skin on his arm.

The woman I assumed was Alisa Solovyova took in first my body, and then my face. Her face paled as recognition flickered through her eyes.

I felt the corners of my lips turn up, but from the way she stumbled backwards you’d think I’d just snarled at her.

When I got up from the couch, Alisa stepped in front of her brother in an adorably inadequate attempt to shield him. At my approaching figure, she straightened her shoulders.

“What are you doing?” she said. A bit of panic flashed in her eyes before she masked it over with steel.

“Leaving,” I said, striding towards the only door.

I’d sought out an empty room to deal with my protection racket, not… whatever this was.

“No, wait!” she said, her eyes wide. “They said the next time the door opens Kiril needs to be…” She couldn’t even finish the sentence.

“Then get it over with,” I said, not slowing my pace.

“The Pakhan ordered you to kill me, Alisa.” Kiril’s voice was quiet, his agony apparent from the throaty tone. “You know what you have to do.”

Alisa trembled and shook her head in denial as I continued towards the door.

“There has to be a way for both of us to get out of this alive,” Alisa said to her brother.

There sure as hell wasn’t. Once the Pakhan gave a direct order, you carried it out or you died. Which, if I had to guess, was exactly what had led them to this room.

When I placed my hand on the door handle, something came over Alisa. A snarl exited her mouth as she dove for the knife–

And aimed it at me.

I raised an eyebrow. Pretty fucking ballsy. Men three times her size didn’t have the balls to try that with me. Probably because they didn’t want to bleed out at my feet.

“Don’t you dare open that door,” she said, breathing heavily between each word.

“Alisa, stop!” Kiril yelled. He stumbled forward despite the heavy chains I now spotted around his legs.

Alisa’s arm trembled, but she kept the knife raised in my direction. Not close enough to actually reach me. Still, there weren’t many people stupid enough to threaten me.

“Put the knife down,” I said. “Then get on your knees and beg for me not to kill you.”

That was a far more charitable offer than usual for me. But if she disobeyed, I’d snap her neck before she had a chance to blink those pretty blue eyes that were staring at me with pure hatred. What a waste that would be.

Especially since now I was imagining those hate-filled eyes rolling up in her skull right before she broke on my cock.

Technically, we weren’t allowed to kill the other contestants without the Pakhan’s approval. But there were no working cameras in here. Since the Pakhan ordered Kiril dead, I could easily stage it so it looked like the siblings killed each other during the struggle.

“Alisa,” Kiril’s voice was panicked. “Do what he says.”

The vibrations from Alisa’s trembling arm might’ve been comical if she wasn’t pointing that knife at me.

“Please, Dmitri,” Alisa said, and fuck me if the sound of my name on her pretty lips didn’t make my dick harden. “I just need a moment to figure out how to save us both.”

I snorted at that. “You disobey the Pakhan by keeping your brother alive, and he’ll just kill both of you. Now go ahead and kill Kiril. Then beg me not to do the same to you.”

Her eyes glazed over as she stared ahead.

“He’s right,” Kiril said.

Alisa spun towards him. She raised the knife–

And offered it to her brother.

“Kill me instead, Kiril,” Alisa said quietly.

My fingers drummed against the wall. Something about this interaction was making my chest tighten.

“Time’s up,” I said, stepping forward. “Now I’m choosing who dies.”

Alisa spun around, whipping the knife through the air threateningly.

Well, at least she probably thought it looked threatening. To me, it looked like a kitten who was unleashing its claws for the first time.

Clumsy and adorable.

Too adorable to be bleeding out at my feet.

For the first time in my life, I didn’t murder someone actively swinging a knife at me. I’d probably regret it later. My dick wasn’t getting the memo though.

“Cute,” I said, surging forward and snatching the knife out of her hands.

Alisa stumbled to the side, while I flipped the handle of the knife through my fingers absently.

She desperately tried to reach for the knife, but I shoved her to the ground.

“You really were willing to give up your life for your brother,” I mused while she struggled to stand up.

“Kill me instead,” she begged, finally on her knees like I had wanted. But why was that suddenly not nearly enough?

“Why?”

Her mouth flopped open at my question.

“He’s my family,” she said as if it should be obvious. It wasn’t. In my family, your relatives killed each other, not the reverse.

“And?”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, Alisa. Stop it,” Kiril said.

“No,” she cried, reaching for my pants leg. “If you kill me instead, maybe they’ll forgive him. Maybe he’ll live.”

Kiril sighed, exhaustion permeating his voice. “You know I don’t want that. I’ve made my peace.”

Her voice wobbled. “I can’t go on without you. I need you.”

If I actually had a heart, I’d probably find this touching.

But the reality was that if I left these two to their own devices, both of them were dead. And for some reason, picturing this teary-eyed girl with her throat slashed made my skin itch.

“Sorry, kotenok,” I said, stepping past her. “You aren’t allowed to die yet.”

I plunged the knife into Kiril’s throat.