Page 20 of Reign of Four

Andrei has always been a master at maintaining his composure. It unsettles people when you can stomach watching someone’s fingernails get ripped out with needle-nose pliers, and Andrei has a perfect poker face in the interrogation room. I’ve joked before that he’s a Russian sleeper agent, especially since he doesn’t remember his parents or his past. He shrugs it off, but I know that’s why he craves Valentina so badly.

Aside from me and Mikhail, he’s never had a family of his own. Valentina was always meant to become not just the wife of a pakhan, but his wife. The woman sharing his bed, his heart, and every dream that comes along with it.

At the mention of his missing bride, Andrei’s fingers wrap tighter around the grip of his gun, knuckles whitening, as his calm exterior frays at the edges. “Tell me where she is, and I’ll keep your punishment light.”

Mikhail scoffs, clearly displeased. “For which crime, pakhan, the desertion or the kidnapping?”

Thanatos’ crimes are stacked high against him; even those two offenses are capital ones. Tolkotsky would have labeled him a traitor, killed him on sight, had a disposal team cut him up into little pieces, and fed him to the dogs. Such was the late pakhan’s way. Cross him, and die.

Things were simpler when the old man reigned.

Andrei doesn’t want to rule with a bloodied fist. Some things can’t be avoided—violence is a language that flows through the Bratva’s veins—but he likes to reward as much as punish. Helping us retrieve Valentina will call for a reward that won’t be so easy to give.

“I want a full pardon.” Thanatos crosses his arms over his broad chest. “Then, we’ll talk.”

I’m not surprised by the request. The audacity speaks to Thanatos’ unwavering confidence; the man always had unshakeable self-belief, like he walks the path of gods. The namesake has always been fitting. I clench my jaw as I force my gun higher and train the barrel at his head. Even though Thanatos is as much of a brother to me as Andrei, I know where my loyalties lie. Not with myself, but with my pakhan. “You do not give orders.”

Thanatos remains unflinching as he meets my eyes over the threat of death hanging between us. “If you want your girl back in one piece, I do.”

Mikhail growls from behind me. “What have you done to her?”

Raising an eyebrow, Thanatos flicks his gaze between us. “I haven’t touched her, if that’s what you’re implying. She’s been kicking up trouble, though, and not everyone likes it. She’s more spirited than the pakhan’s wife should be, if you ask me. It’s going to keep her in trouble until someone finally snaps.”

“No one asked you for your opinion,” Mikhail hisses. “And you’re not getting a fucking pardon, you arrogant son of a bitch?—”

“A full pardon—” Andrei interjects, stepping too far forward to remain at a safe distance. If Thanatos wants to hurt him, all he’d have to do is reach out and strike with his fist. Andrei remains as unshakeable as Thanatos, drawing himself up to his full height in front of the other man. Unlike Thanatos, Andrei’s power doesn’t come from his body—it comes from his spirit. “—for all past grievances from this moment forward, granted when you take us to Valentina’s location, ensure her safe rescue, and return to the Bratva in full, which means?—”

“Save the damsel in distress, kill the opposition, keep your runners in check, enforce Bratva code, strong-arm anyone who tries to pull shit, and protect our people at all costs.” Thanatos’ dark eyes meet mine, and all the years we spent working side by side reflect back at me. “I know how it goes.”

Mikhail flanks Andrei’s other side, tapping the toe of his shoe angrily against the marbled floor. “You can’t be serious, Andrei. He left. You know the rules.”

“Rules that I have no intention of keeping.” Andrei clamps a hand on Mikhail’s shoulder. “We shouldn’t kill every man who wanders, Mikhail, especially when they return home.”

“With gifts,” Thanatos says, his scarred upper lip curving into a smirk. “A princess, a map—” He slips his hand into his pocket and produces something tiny. Tossing it to Andrei, he chuckles to himself. “A way in, gentleman.”

The key in Andrei’s hand is made to look antique, but it’s not true iron. The black coating crumbles off the tip as Andrei thumbs over it. “What is this for?”

“The mansion.” Thanatos reaches into the pouch hooked to his belt and pulls out a folded wad of paper. This, he tosses at Mikhail. “The mayor’s secret hideaway, just outside city limits. It’s marked in red.”

As Mikhail unwinds the map of Baranova territory, I sidle closer to him. The mansion’s location is circled in bright red ink, with trails of red leading down city streets. Multiple city blocks are circled in black, the red lines from the mayor’s house connecting them all together.

“Oh, and one more thing.” This time, Thanatos approaches me with an object in hand. He thrusts it against my chest, knocking my gun arm out of his way to do so. “She wanted you to have this.”

It’s a scrap of paper with from the desk of Henry Mastiff printed at the top, but beneath the vanity mark is an angry set of numbers carved deep within the surface.

I’m up to 99

Ink bleeds through the paper from the back, and I flip it over to read the rest of the message.

he dies at 100

Mikhail’s request for Valentina to count her tears has seemed trivial up until this point. The fact that she maintained a count over the past week—that it’s ninety-nine fucking tears—hits me like a shotgun shell to the chest. The three of us trade objects and come to a unanimous decision within seconds. This shit ends tonight, no matter how much blood spills.

We won’t let Valentina count to a hundred.

Chapter 8

Valentina

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