Page 164 of The Lazarov Bratva

Kristof tilts the cup in his hand, causing the muscles of his forearm to bulge with how tightly he’s gripping the cup.

“I know it’s harsh, but there has been enough death, enough betrayal, and I am not risking even the slightest threat to your safety.” Finally, Kristof looks up at me. “You can think what you like about that, but I will do what I must to keep you and our baby safe.”

It pains me to admit it, but his reasoning makes sense. In the same way I was triggered by the bloodshed, Kristof’s own pain seems focused on the betrayal from Alyona and how close he came to losing me because of that.

“You didn’t have to kill him, though,” I say, my anger fading just a little.

“Didn’t I?” He lifts his other hand, rubbing through his beard. “He was leaving here with intimate knowledge of you and our baby. I wasn’t going to let that info fall into the hands of our enemies. And if I forced him to stay? If he sours to that and chooses to take it out on you? No, the risk was too great. He had to die.”

“Because that’s your solution to everything, isn’t it?” The words bite out of me like venom, and tears threaten in the corner of my eyes. “You kill anyone who’s a problem. Alyona didn’t leave, did she? Given everything you’ve just said, then you definitely killed her too.” Nausea clenches through my gut, cutting off my words, and I clutch at my stomach.

“Alyona…” Kristof’s words tremble in a way I’ve never heard before. “Yes. I killed her. She was an active threat to you, Alena. To us. We got split up. I almost lost you to your father because she couldn’t trust me and decided her archaic views on female heirs and traditions to the Family were more important than me and the family we'd built over the years.”

His breath hitches, and emotion deepens his voice. Each word shaves away my anger as each confession weakens Kristof’s stance. It’s like each time he talks, he’s stripping away a piece of his armor.

“You have to believe me when I say it pained me. More than I… She was like a mother to me. In all my years, I never—” He cuts himself off and angles back toward the window. “Learning how far she would go to get you back into that asshole’s hands, learning how little she cared for me and my… So yes, I killed her, and it breaks my heart, but I did it for you. For us. And I would do it again in a heartbeat.”

He speaks, and yet all I hear is how everyone around him is on a time limit. They have until they make a decision that he dislikes, and then he kills them. Alyona I can understand, to an extent, but the doctor?

How long until he decides I’ve betrayed him?

“And your siblings?” I bite out the bitter words. “What did they do to betray you?”

Kristof’s entire demeanor changes. His shoulders droop, and his grip on the cup goes lax. A moment ago, he was stiff and firm in his words about ensuring no one posed a danger to us, and now he stands like a weakened tree waving in the wind, absent of his leaves.

Bare and alone.

He swallows audibly, and I shift forward on the bed, gripping the bedspread between both hands.

What excuse does he have this time?

Ivan and Nastja are dead. The two people I thought Kristof would never hurt.

Are they part of some grand betrayal scheme as well?

The silence drags on for an age. Despite his weakened stance, Kristof doesn’t move, but he doesn’t speak either. It’s as if something outside has completely captured his attention and he stands, utterly focused on things I can’t see.

Is he ignoring me? Hoping that if he doesn’t answer, I’ll just stop asking?

Not a chance. If there’s one thing I do know, one thing I grew certain about during my quiet bubble of shock, is that I will keep my baby safe from everyone and everything that poses a danger.

I don’t exactly know how, but I know I will try.

And I need to know if that includes Kristof.

Just as I grow certain that he isn’t going to speak and the repeating question toys on the tip of my tongue, he finally speaks.

“I—” He halts suddenly, and a chill steals down my arms.

He sounds so… different. Hollow.

“They trusted me.” He speaks as if something strangles him, and while his grip on the cup is loose, his free hand begins to flex back and forth. “They followed me without question because they trusted me, and I… I never should have led them.”

I move slowly to the edge of the bed, my gut churning.

“I didn’t kill them,” Kristof says. “You have to believe me, I—we confronted your father together, and I was so certain, so fucking certain that we had him where we wanted him. You were safe back home, I had my brother and sister by my side, and we’d taken out anyone who posed a threat. I was cocky. Too cocky.”

Kristof draws in a ragged breath that he holds in his chest.

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