Page 34 of Reign of Four

In the end, I claimed his life, but not in the way I wanted. Not in the way I needed.

Somehow, Mikhail understands that.

I count the final number in my head while Mikhail murmurs it in my ear. Ezra rumbles it beside us, and even Andrei, watching the gory display from a few feet away, says the number aloud.

One hundred.

We leave the knife in his corpse.

“What happened to—” I pause mid-sentence, wondering if I should even ask about my grandmother’s fate once she left the dining room. Knowing how angry my men have been with her, I can only imagine how they defiled her corpse. The kill was stolen from them, but disrespecting the dead woman’s corpse is still within reach.

I take a deep breath. I’m done with being left in the dark. I need to know. “What did you do with Katya?”

Mikhail hums idly, appearing nonchalant as he leans back on his palms and tactfully to avoid touching the bloodstained patches of grass. “If you really want to know, I’ll tell you.”

“How bad is it?”

He shrugs, but a slow smile curves on his lips. “Could have been better in terms of finesse, but it will do for now. We’ll have to retrieve her later for proof of her death, of course, but then we can properly decide what to do with her.”

“Won’t we bury her?”

Mikhail lifts an eyebrow. “Does she deserve to be buried?”

I realize that the decision is ours to make. I don’t know if she had a preference upon or any legal documentation regarding her disposal upon her death, but even if she did, we don’t have to follow them. Mikhail’s father wasn’t buried. My mother wasn’t buried. Why should Katya be honored after the betrayals she committed?

“No,” I ultimately decide. “No, she doesn’t.”

Ezra watches us silently while the medic patches up his shoulder as best they can. He’ll need proper treatment from a doctor soon, but for now, stabilization for transport will suffice. They keep asking him triage questions in Russian, which he ignores. Lacing our fingers together, he tugs me back into his lap with his good arm, stealing me from Mikhail. “Tell me, lisichka, how do you feel?”

I cup Ezra’s jaw and try to stay out of the medic’s way. “I should be asking you that.” In truth, I’m not sure how I feel, or how I should feel. All of my emotions jumble together, between the sorrow at losing people I once loved, the security of knowing that they won’t harm us ever again, and the relief that we’re going to be okay. “I feel . . .” I take a deep breath and assess the turbulence inside my heart. At my core, how do I feel?

The answer comes out on an exhale. “Relieved, more than anything.” I scrub my hand across my eyes, expecting tears to rise, but none come. “I’m so relieved that you’re alive—that you came to rescue me—that all of you are here.” I look over Ezra’s shoulder to Andrei, who’s speaking with the two medics crouched beside Riot. It’s strange to see him without his face shield and to find that he’s older than I thought, the faintest hint of gray peppering his dark beard, crow’s feet crinkling around his eyes. He stares blankly ahead, either from a concussion or from the toxins in his system. “What did you say his name was?” In the blur between Liam’s gun firing empty and mine unloading into his chest, one of our people made a run for the unconscious man at the back—the same man I sent to find my men, who followed my orders this past week without question or condemnation. The man I know as Riot.

Ezra clumsily tangles his fingers in my hair, pulling the strands as he undoes the loose knot keeping it all together. “He is Thanatos. He will be okay. Drug cannot break him.”

The name Riot feels juvenile when compared to the name of a Greek god. I’d told Riot to go to the estate to get into contact with Andrei, but that if they weren’t there, to find them at all costs, as soon as possible. He accomplished his mission in spades. “I asked him to find you.”

Ezra nods. “He is former member of Bratva. He knows how we work, how we think.”

Mikhail rolls his eyes. “He knows how you think. But me? I’m still an enigma—a tired enigma. Can we leave yet?” He palms at my leg, slowly sliding his hand up my thigh until the cool night air tickles my bare ass. “You deserve so much praise for getting rid of that mudak. I’d like to show the depth of my appreciation somewhere a little less . . .” He crinkles his nose. “Bloody. This place reeks.” He turns his attention to the medic shining a light in Ezra’s eyes. “Is he cleared yet?”

The medic glares at Mikhail. “Like I told Mr. Reinoff, he needs to go to a hospital.”

“No.” Ezra lifts me from his lap and hands me off to Mikhail, then forces himself to his feet. His eyes glaze over until I put my hand in his, and with one strong pull, he lifts me to my feet. “We are finished.”

“Mr. Reinoff?—”

“We are leaving.” He cuts the medic a harsh glare. “Take Thanatos and brother to Baranova compound.”

The man kneeling beside Riot shares his sharp cheekbones and raven hair. If it weren’t for Riot’s huge muscles and peppered beard, they could almost pass as twins. Our eyes meet, and the stranger lifts his chin in my direction.

“I thought Riot—Thanatos—worked for my grandmother?”

Ezra grunts, following my gaze to where Riot lay unconscious. “No matter what he thinks, he is part of family. Cannot remove Bratva from blood.” Sighing, Ezra pulls me against his side and drapes his good arm over my shoulder. “Let us go. Mikhail, bring car around.”

Snapping his fingers, Mikhail orders someone else to fetch the car. “You are not driving. You can barely stand up! Let Valentina walk on her own, for fuck’s sake. You’re weighing her down.”

Although it’s true that Ezra is favoring his left side and leaning on me more than he likely intends, I wrap my arm around his waist and hold on tight. “Get his other side, Mikhail, and stop shouting.”

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