Page 172 of Emerald Malice

“I think not. I see what she really is: a weakness.” He leans back, arms folded, legs crossed, perfectly at ease. “I thought I taught you better. I thought you were smarter than your brother.” Viktor flinches, though if Slavik notices, he shows no sign of it. “Love…” The word twists on his tongue. He makes it sound dirty, ugly. Wrong. “—is nothing more than a liability.”

“The only liabilities I see are the two men standing in front of me.”

Viktor hisses. Slavik leans forward and steeples his fingers together. “I don’t remember you complaining when I handed you my empire and smoked the competition in a single move.”

“Don’t act like a saint, father. You didn’t rat out the Rostovs for my benefit.”

“Why else would I have done it?” He’s barely blinking. The effect is unsettling.

“You tell me. Petty revenge is my best guess, knowing you. Nikolai must have offended you. Did he not kneel to kiss the ring fast enough? Did he do a poor job licking your boots? I know how fragile your ego can be. It’s the same for all weak men.”

The smile slides off his face, turning his gray eyes icy once more. “You dare to sit in my house, use my title, command my men, and call me weak?”

“You’ve been gone a long time, so you must be confused.” I lean forward to mirror his posture, resting my elbows on my knees. “This is not your fucking house and it’s not your fucking Bratva. Don’t you get it, old man? You’re not in charge anymore.”

Slavik sinks back, never taking his eyes off me. His fingers run through his thick beard again and again. “I acknowledge that you’ve done well in my absence, Andryusha. You’ve built on my legacy, and you will get the credit for it once I reclaim my rightful place.”

“You and I have very different ideas of where your ‘rightful place’ is.”

He carries on, ignoring me. “Out of gratitude and respect for everything you’ve done, you can keep your men and this house. I will even let you keep the whore, if that’s what you truly want.”

“I don’t want anything you have to offer. Not when it means falling into step behind you.”

“I am your father. You will be pakhan again one day. After I am done.”

“I owe you nothing.”

“You owe me everything!” he roars, face purpling as spit flies past his lips.

I stay perfectly calm. “The man I am and the pakhan I am… It has nothing, absolutely fucking nothing to do with you.” I crack my neck. “You want proof? Look at the useless dead weight kneeling at your side.”

His eyes narrow. Viktor tenses. For a moment, the silence feels like it’s on the cusp of breaking into bloodshed and chaos.

Then the moment passes.

“This has been an enlightening conversation, son,” Slavik states as he pushes himself to his feet. “It’s good to know where we stand.”

I square my jaw. “Am I right in assuming you’re here to stay?”

“Oh, yes. Russia was a good respite, but this is home.”

Snapping his fingers, he motions Viktor to follow him. My brother’s eyes dart to mine, clearly embarrassed by his treatment, but unable to do a goddamn thing about it.

My fool of a sibling picked the wrong side.

“I hope you know what you’re doing, Slavik,” I call after them. “It’s not just me you have to deal with. Nikolai won’t take kindly to your return, either.”

Slavik looks supremely unconcerned. “I’m not worried about the Rostov boy. He’s just another ant that requires squashing. He’ll die the way they always do: squirming beneath the heel of my boot.”

With that, he departs.

Shura follows Viktor and Slavik out, and I turn back to the window. I’m confident in my power and my men. The problem is that Slavik seems just as confident.

What makes him so damn sure he’ll get back control of the Kuznetsov Bratva?

What does he know? What has Viktor told him?

The door flies open before any answers present themselves. Shura is breathless, and the look on his face sends my heart plunging into my stomach.

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