Chapter 32
ARTYOM
It was beyond the pale and we both knew it.
If Valentin hadn’t been so stubborn in his refusal to tell me what was going on, I would have never had to play this card.
“You would send me to jail, Tyoma?”
Valentin’s face turned white as I explained what I’d found, laying out every shred of evidence I’ve collected against him. All compiled neatly by my lawyers, ready to be sent to the Justice Department.
I know everything about my cousin. Everything except the reason he’s decided to stab me in the back.
We practically grew up as brothers. Which, of course, means that I know about the one piece of leverage which could bring him down.
The files about the cold case.
A cold case that could become red hot if I provided the information I have to the District Attorney.
It was a decade ago now when Valentin shot him on a dare at a bachelor party.
It was sheer idiocy. We had no reason to pick him out of everyone roaming the streets that late at night.
Turns out, we made the wrong choice. He was wealthy and well-connected enough that Valentin was haunted by the headlines for years. The clean-up job was good, but it was nerve-wracking enough to make him flee the country for a month every time the man’s name was mentioned.
“You don’t want this to come out, Valentin. It would ruin you. Twenty-five years, at least.”
I drawled and reclined in my chair. I knew I had every fine detail pinned down. My sources in the Justice Department were solid. There was no risk.
“Tyoma, don’t do this. I have every right to fight for the Bratva Council position.”
I held my hands up. “I don’t deny it, Valentin. You have every right, but no reason to want it.”
“I don’t need a good reason when I have the same birthright as you.”
“The point is, two months ago you said you’d support me. You said that as long as it wasn’t Polina and Denis, you were happy. I thought we could agree on that much. What changed, cousin?”
He opened his mouth to speak but I held up a hand. “And remember, that file is ready to be sent to the District Attorney if you lie to me.”
He broke down, then. There’s always something you can use as leverage, no matter who you’re dealing with.
“What do you want?”
“I just want the name.”
“He’ll kill me if I tell you.”
“I’ll handle it. Whoever it is.”
“It won’t be clean, Tyoma. This is a mess.”
“Valentin. If you don’t tell me, there’s nothing I can do to help you.”
I watched his throat bob. I had him on the hook. I continued speaking.
“I know you don’t want to lead this family.
Nor are you ready to settle down. Your Parisian getaways are far too important for that.
That all fades away if you give me the name.
” His bisexuality doesn’t bother me. It would bother everyone else in the family, though, if he didn’t keep it under wraps.
“Who put you up to it, cousin?”
The answer was blindingly obvious. Denis.
Polina may be deluded enough to think that Vanya will choose her to lead, but Denis has more foresight than that. He knows that their betrayal of my father won’t ever sit right with Babushka.
What he said next chilled me.
“He seemed sure it wouldn’t be you, Tyoma. Very sure. Like he had a plan in place.”
I placed both hands on Valentin’s shoulders. “Do you think he does?”
His eyes flickered to the door, then back to me.
“Yes.”
“Then it’s a matter of kill or be killed.”
He nodded.
“You were a part of creating this mess, Valentin. You’ll help me get out of it.”
Valentin has done his part, now it’s time for me to do mine.
The guards are fast asleep from some drugged whiskey he gave them. I stride past them, slumped at the doorway to their wing of the house.
Thank God he’s back on my side. It was scaring me, Valentin acting like he was hungry for power. Not like him at all. Now that I know Denis was involved, it clicks into place.
While Polina outright rejected me from birth, Denis was smarter. He noticed Vanya loved Valentin more than any of the rest of her grandchildren.
While he wasn’t exactly a loving father to Valentin — more like a distant, occasional houseguest — he attended the occasional prize giving. Gave him birthday presents. Shook his hand when he officially joined the Bratva.
I thought Valentin would have been able to see through his power plays, but I guess that familial influence ran deeper than I expected.
The Estate is dark and silent as I make my way through the house. These are the quarters where I lived as a child, under their roof. My mother and my uncle, the man who had no qualms about making a move on Polina the second my father was in the ground.
It’s not unheard of, but it pushed them out of Vanya’s favor.
This was all back in the days when everyone had assumed she would give up the leadership or be forced out in the years after Vassily’s death — but Babushka is more tenacious than that.
Her stubborn refusal to give power to Polina and Denis is what turned them into these desperate, craven creatures who are now trying to force others to act as their puppets.
When I pull myself out and focus on my surroundings, something feels off.
I turn on my heel and that’s when I catch it.
A flicker of movement out of the corner of my eye, so subtle it almost escaped me.
I walk, then pause suddenly again, turning around faster. I hear the rustling, just a millisecond later than my own footsteps. Still, there’s a noticeable delay.
I lunge into action, diving backwards and closing my hand around my follower’s ankle before they can move out of the way.
The feminine gasp is instantly recognizable.
“Nina?” I hiss. Why is she following me? “You shouldn’t be here.”
“Let me go. I wanted to see where you were going.”
I fight the urge to laugh. Of course, the only interactions I have with my wife these days are likely to push her away even further.
“You really, really don’t.”
“Well, I’m not going back to my room.” I can’t see Nina in the darkened corridor, but I’m sure that if I could, her arms would be folded across her chest, her chin raised in defiance.
The urge to pull her close and kiss her grips me, like it does every time she’s close. Even if she obstinately refuses to touch me, except in her sleep.
“You’re not going to like this.”
“I don’t care. I’m not letting you keep another secret from me, Art.”
The truth is, I don’t know whether Nina will run screaming if she finds out what I’m about to do to Denis. She knows the Bratva. She’s been here for a month now. But does she know that I have blood on my hands? That this family is not just a twisted mess, but a deadly trap?
This is more of my life than I’ve ever let her see.
I make my decision. She can follow me. This is urgent. The guards will only stay asleep for so long.
Silently, I stalk down the halls leading to Denis and Polina’s bedroom.
I need to be quick, and silent enough that they don’t wake up.
I leave Nina at the doorway to their bedroom and she gives a quick nod of agreement. She doesn’t know what she’s in for. I don’t want her to see me do this.
But when I’ve slipped into the room, I realize my mistake. Denis is alone in bed. Meaning Polina is somewhere out there in the dark.
With Nina.
The thought makes me hesitate, but I have to do this. It’s the only way to guarantee our safety — not just mine, but Nina and Ava’s too.
This is not revenge, not torture. I don’t have any last words I want him to hear, there’s no message I want to send.
This is pure business. An insurance policy. To make sure that Council seat is mine.
I close my hand over his mouth, tightening it to stifle his breathing only at the exact moment that I draw the blade across his throat.
The hot blood hits my hand in a burst, gushing silently from his neck.
I make it quick, and it’s messier than I wanted.
When his struggling dies down I hear the scuffling outside. The door swings open.
“Art–“ Something cuts Nina off. Footsteps, then a yelp.
I release my hand from Denis’s neck and he gives a gurgling sound. A quick finger on his pulse tells me that he’s dead.
Job done.
By the time I rush over to the doorway, Nina has Polina pinned to the ground, her hair wild around her face.
I feel a rush of pride.
Polina’s nose is a mess of blood.
“She tried to pull this on me.”
Nina waves a knife.
As though she needs a justification to punch my mother in the face after their past encounters.
I hold out my hand and she leaps to her feet.
Polina stays down and that’s when I realize Nina has knocked her unconscious. She’s clean out, breathing but unresponsive. You wouldn’t think she had it in her — but I’ve always known Nina was a survivor. Tiny, determined as hell and capable.
I picked the right woman. She can handle herself. Even in the worst of the situations that are likely to face us.
She surveys the scene with me for a moment, then pulls her hand from mine to look back at Polina. I can feel the minute it hits her, what she’s done.
I pull her back to face me.
“Don’t look so apologetic. She deserved it.”
Nina shakes her head slowly, then raises her hand to her mouth.
“You know, you can handle this life, Nenoka.”
“I shouldn’t have to.”
“You were made for this. You were made for me.”
But she’s shaking her head and backing away from me. She tosses the knife to the ground and runs.