Page 32 of Brutal Bratva Boss

“It would appear you do not know my wife as well as you think you do.”

“Stop calling her that!” he shouts. “She is a Patrov. And Patrovs do not mix with Dubrovs. You will return my daughter to me, boy.”

My blood starts a slow simmer at that. This creatin only has around a decade on me, yet he insists on trying to demean me every chance he gets. If not for the promise I made Kat, assuring her that no harm would come to the sorry excuse for a man standing in front of me, I would skin him alive and feed him to the dogs. Unfortunately, that is not an option.

“Well, these ones do,” I retort. “And she did not seem opposed to it in any way.”

Yes, I am rubbing salt in the wound. It is the only small pleasure I can take without ending his life.

Igor’s face turns murderous, and the pistol he wields rattles at his side. “I will not ask again, Fyodor. You will return what is mine.”

“You can ask as many times as you want. Hell, you can make demands until you turn blue. The answer is still no. You are not getting your hands on my wife. Not now, not ever.”

“Do you expect me to stand by and watch as you flaunt my property around for everyone to see? For everyone to know that you stole her innocence and tainted her with your filthy Dubrov blood?”

I tsk. “I think we both know Kat was most certainly not innocent the day I met her. But be that as it may, Kat is no longer your property. Not with her carrying my child.”

This is apparently not the right thing to say.

Igor draws his weapon again, this time pressing it to my forehead. “I will kill you Dubrov!”

When my men draw their weapons, I do not stop them.

“Again, that would not be wise, Igor. You and I both know what it would mean for both sides if any blood was shed here tonight. Let’s not do that.”

“You dare to tell me what could happen if I were to end your life? After you soiled my daughter and used her to further your bloodline?”

I can see how Igor would get that idea. Hell, that was the plan all along. But that was before I developed deeper feelings for Kat. That is, however, not something I plan on telling Igor under any circumstances.

“I’m sure we can work something out and agree on a favorable outcome. For both of us.”

Igor does not put up much of a fight when I lift two fingers and brush the metal off my forehead.

His outrage morphs into a sinister smile. “You’re right. That would not be wise. Besides, why would I kill you here when I know where to find you and your wife? I could kill you in your own house, along with that whore of a daughter.”

My control slips, and my arms shoot out, my fingers wrapping around his neck at the same time that I swipe his pistol and press it to his temple. I see movement in my peripheral, and I nod towards Igor’s men. “Tell your men to stand down, or I pull this trigger.”

I would not in good conscience be able to follow through on that threat. If I pull this trigger, I’ll break my promise to Kat, and I will never be able to look her in the eyes again.

Which puts me at a slight disadvantage. But Igor is unaware of this.

Igor, being the spinless asshole he is, waves frantically to his men. “Stand down,” he chokes out.

I feel his throat work under my grip, and he coughs.

“Now,” I tap the side of his head with the barrel. “Care to repeat that?”

Igor coughs again, moisture gathering in the corners of his eyes from the pressure around his throat. “You will pay for this, mark my words.”

I pull his face close to mine, and my voice drops to a deathly whisper. “Come near my wife, and you will be the one in a shallow grave. Are we clear?”

Igor grinds his teeth, his eyes narrowing as he glares at me. He does not answer me for the longest time.

Eventually, I plaster on a fake smile. “Cheer up, Igor. We’re family now.”

He writhes against my grip. “Over my dead body!” he spits.

“That can be arranged,” I sneer.

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