Chapter 28
ANTON
Ipress my loaded gun to the back of the man’s skull. His name doesn’t come to me, not that it matters with the red-hot rage rushing through my veins.
Whoever he is, he’s new. A recruit who probably figured that teaming up with Roman and doing what he says would move him up the Bratva faster. Just because Roman’s my son.
He’s not.
Not anymore.
From this day forward, I will not deviate from the line drawn between us.
Viktor gets the other man under control. A couple of my guards are with me, and they fill the narrow space in front of the bakery counter.
All I can think as this rage consumes me is that I’ll never stop being grateful I got here when I did. That I arrived before anything serious could happen. Before any harm could come to the woman I love, the mother of my unborn child.
Roman pivots just enough to see me. He pales. For the first time since he came into this world, he doesn’t fall back on his usual tricks. There’s no fake charm, no cocky grin, no wheedling for a way out. He’s not even trying to flatter me down from my anger.
I’ll give him credit for recognizing how fucking angry I am. He’s not that clueless, after all.
Like the narcissist and master manipulator he is, though, he’s clearly stumped, scrambling for a way out of this mess.
“I’ve been lenient with you,” I growl, keeping the gun at the man’s head as I stare my son down.
“This—”
“This,” I say sternly, talking over him, “is not a mistake. This is not another minor fuckup of yours. This is not a misunderstanding you can talk your way out of.”
“Dad—”
That’s what breaks me.
He stopped being my son the second he set out to harm Liliana. I’ve given him the benefit of the doubt too many times but he’s finally crossed the final line.
No one will ever threaten the woman I love.
I don’t think. I let my fury dictate my actions. I pull the gun back from the recruit’s head, and in the same swift motion I turn it on Roman. I whip him across the face, sending him reeling. The guard closest to me spins the recruit around to face me.
The stink of urine hits me first. He’s wet himself, too afraid to face me. The guard holds him up, and I leave him for later. First I deal with this idiot who can’t behave like a man, like an adult. And definitely not like my son.
Roman gasps and groans, pressing a hand to the side of his head. His fingers tremble, and the sight of him rattled by one hit pisses me off all over again.
He’s led a soft, pampered life, incapable of handling any challenge.
But this won’t be a challenge. I’m past caring what he thinks or wants.
As of this morning, I’ve cut his mother out of my life too.
I’m not in the mood to lecture Roman. I’m not feeling generous enough to hear him out or have a real conversation.
All I want is to remove him. To put so much distance between us that I’ll never have to see his face or hear his whining again.
“What the hell?” He pulls his hand back. Blood trickles from the gash at his temple. He’s dazed and stunned but lucid enough to stare stupidly at his hand, smeared red. “What are you doing?” It doesn’t come out as a whisper. It comes out as a demand—too arrogant, too disbelieving.
I grab the front of his shirt and jerk him up off his feet.
He’s a lightweight, never bothering to bulk up or build any real muscle or strength.
He claws at my fingers as I hold him there.
His badly knotted tie is caught in my fist, and as I hoist him into the air, I pull that strip of fabric tight around his neck, like a noose.
Behind him, I catch Viktor waving Liliana back. He must be clearing the scene, getting the bakery employees out of here. I war with the urge to check on her. She was struck, but she didn’t fall. She’s still standing there—I know it without looking, the way I always know exactly where she is.
Roman struggles, trying to make me let go. But I don’t. I can’t. This punishment is long overdue. I should have made him face the consequences of his actions years ago. It’s time to drill it into his thick skull—the last words he’ll ever get from me.
“You are no longer my son.”
He furrows his brow, gawking at me. “You can’t—”
I hit him again, whipping him with the gun, and let go at the same time. He drops to the floor, moaning. Cursing and breathing hard, he slowly sits up.
“You’ve failed to understand that I am the boss, but you’ll never forget it after today.”
He shakes his head, pale-faced and speechless. His lower lip trembles as I put him in his place—and his place is on his ass, desperate to crawl back into my good graces. It’ll never happen. Seeing him here, threatening Liliana, is the final straw.
“You are going to disappear.”
He scrambles to his knees. “No!”
“You’re cut off from this family. Cut off from ever seeing another penny from me.”
“You can’t do this!”
I glower at him as he clumsily tries to stand.
“But I can and I will. I may have allowed your mother to raise you to be an entitled brat, and I’ll own up to my mistake with that, but striking a woman, my woman, is one thing I will never forgive. We are done.”
I let him live to suffer the reality of being cut off. He’s disowned, no longer my son, my heir. He’s out, stripped of any right to call himself a member of the Sokolov Bratva. My men will put him on a plane out of New York and that will be the end of my headaches.
One look at Viktor confirms he’ll handle it. With that done, I turn to face the man who dared aim a gun at Liliana.
He flinches under my direct attention. I let him simmer in the suspense and fear, curious what he’ll say.
“He…he told me.” He gulps, the only pause I have patience for as he confesses. “He told me he was gonna take over.
“Shut up!” Roman yells as the guards hold him in place.
“He wanted to…to…” He sobs.
It’s one cry, a pathetic sound I can’t bring myself to care about.
I raise my gun and fire once. A single hole darkens the spot between his eyes.
I hear Liliana gasp from the back room where Viktor sequestered her and her staff.
Before going to her, I turn again, this time to the man who slapped her.
“Any last words?” I ask mildly.
“Please,” he begs, eyes going glossy with tears.
I look at the guards holding him. “Take him away. See that he feels what he did to her tenfold before letting him wish for the end.”
It would be far more satisfying to vent my anger and punish him myself. But the need to go to Liliana outweighs the urge to handle him personally.
I don’t need to give the men instructions. They’ll dispose of the body, punish the other man, and drag Roman out of my sight. What I need is to feel Liliana in my arms and make sure she’s unharmed and spared any more trauma.
She swallows hard as she watches me come through the swinging door to her.
Without breaking eye contact once, her vulnerable blue gaze locked on mine, she lets out a long, shaky breath and steps toward me.
We meet in the middle. She throws herself at me and I wrap my arms around her instantly.
With every second that passes, with the comfort of having her against me, I calm and my heart slows.
I breathe her in deeply, treasuring her presence, and I know that as long as I’m the one she wants, the one she turns to, I don’t stand a chance of losing her.
“Let’s go home,” I tell her, echoing what I said last night. What I’ll say for the rest of my life.
I half expect her to argue, to insist she needs to stay and help the staff.
“Your staff can handle the day,” I say softly, urging her to lean on me.
She nods, still too pale and shaken for my liking. Then, before she can pull back, I bend slightly, scoop her into my arms, and carry her away from the gruesome scene that never should have happened.