37. Chapter 33
Chapter 33
Nikolai
“ A leksander!”
My voice roars, dragging the vowels through glass until it rasps into murderous intent. The chatter stops, and every head snaps to me. Saoirse and Callum O’Shea step back from Aleksander, while Stephanie O’Shea arches an eyebrow and smirks.
The music screeches to a halt, and everyone freezes in position, fixating on the show in front of them.
Aleksander suppresses a sneer, that cold expression thawing with the rage under his skin. Fuck your little attempt to get the Irish on board.
“You should be in hospital, Nikolai.”
“And my wife should be by my side.” I growl back.
Greyson and Adrienne stir at the edge of the circle forming around us, but both know this is above their station.
“Your wife almost killed you. If you’d not been found, she’d be your murderer.”
“All couples argue.” I drawl sarcastically. Alek flashes an unimpressed look, but Stephanie O’Shea lets out a little laugh.
“Where is she?” She asks. “I’d been looking forward to talking to her again.”
“She’s about to be kidnapped by her bastard father.”
The room tensed as I cursed Don Leonardo’s name.
Aleksander’s eyes flicker over my shoulder, locking onto Viktor. He glances at Callum O’Shea for a moment, and then back at me.
“What do you want me to do, Nikolai? She shot you in the chest, ran away, and now she’s going back to her father. You want me to storm into Italian turf? Get fuck knows how many men killed, all for a girl who doesn’t fucking want you?”
“She’s my wife.”
Callum O’Shea clears his throat, finishes his cigarette, and flicks it off into the room.
“Is she? We heard the two of you were married. But there’s no record. No witnesses. No paper trail. The only proof we have is your word. Even your wife doesn’t care about that.”
I don’t even look at Callum. Why give that piece of shit the respect of looking at him?
“You’re gonna believe him over me, Alek?”
Tension simmers in his eyes. “Is he lying?”
Silence creeps up my spine. When has the truth ever stopped us before? We’ve been brothers through death and torture, we’ve told enough lies to turn Satan’s stomach. All that matters is we’re the ones telling the lies.
“I’m getting her back. With or without you.”
Aleksander’s jaw tenses, but he suppresses whatever emotions are swirling in his eyes. “Don Leonardo will kill you before you ever even see her.”
“Then I’ll cut his fucking throat first. Ruin one of his precious white suits.”
Stephanie O’Shea laughs, clapping as if she’s watching the end of a play.
“If you do that, you’re on your own.” Alek turns his back on me.
“Fuck you.”
Before I can think straight, I lung for him, getting him in a choke hold. We go down together, wrestling like we did when we were teenagers. I squeeze his neck as hard as I can as the room erupts around us.
“I know it was you.” I whisper as hands tear us apart.
Viktor drags me from Alek, while Greyson and several foot soldiers pull Aleksander back. The men stand stock still in confusion. If anyone lays a hand on the Pakhan, the protocol is a bullet between the eyes. But when that man is a part of the inner circle, things get complicated. They look between me and Aleksander for orders.
“Get out.” Alek screams, his dark hair falling into a dishevelled mess over his icy eyes.
I suck in huge breaths, the dull pain in my ribs tearing its way back into my body. I break away from Viktor and spit blood onto the floor at Aleksander’s feet.
“Gladly. And when I return, you will apologise to my wife.”
I don’t bother to wait for his reaction. Just before leaving, I look around the room, catching the eyes of the men I’ve led for the last decade. Men I’ve bled with, fought with, laughed with. None of them can hold my eyes.
Fine. I’ll save her myself.