Page 55 of Claimed By the Bratva Brothers

“I’ll wipe the Larionov’s out myself,” Ivan snaps.

Lyric frowns. “You wouldn’t be able to save me, though. You’d only be able to avenge me. What good will that do if I’m dead?”

Fucking hell. This conversation is the result of days’ worth of mulling it over for Lyric. It’s not a decision she made lightly, but I can tell from the look in her eyes that she has made up her mind, and it’s tearing her apart on the inside.

Her fingers quiver nervously over her knees. Her lips part slowly with each heavy breath. Tears glisten in her eyes as she tries not to look at us too much, knowing she might break down completely. I can almost feel her pain because it mirrors mine, and I know I’m not the only one who feels this way.

“We can protect you,” Artur says. “Now that we’ve been made aware, we can take precautions.”

“You’re fighting a difficult war already,” Lyric replies. “I’ll only hold you back. It’s not safe for you. I am your weakness and those around you are starting to pick up on it. It’s my fault. The minute I posted that bail, I knew we’d end up here, sooner or later.”

“Lyric don’t do this,” Ivan says. “We can work something out.”

“I’ll help however I can, remotely. I’ll help you take my father down,” Lyric sighs. “I’ll gather all the information we have so far and run it through the algorithm. I’ll give you the odds on every possible scenario until you have a solid strategy to win, but I need to keep my distance. I’m sorry.”

She is sorry. I know she is.

But it doesn’t stop my heart from bleeding with every beat as I stand up and give her a long, meaningful look. “Are you sure about this?” I ask in a low voice. “The last thing I want to do is keep you somewhere that doesn’t feel safe.”

“What are you doing?” Artur cuts in, clearly befuddled by my decision. “No, we have to—”

“We have to let Lyric decide,” Ivan cuts him off. He doesn’t like this either, but he’s following my lead as my brother has always done.

“I’m sorry you feel this way,” I tell her, working hard to keep an even tone and my eyes on hers without my soul twisting itself into an agonizing pretzel. “But if it’s what you want, we’ll oblige.”

“Honestly, it’s not what I want. However, it’s what needs to happen because they’re circling us like vultures, and it’s only a matter of time before one of them finds an opportunity to blow it all up,” she says.

I am at a loss for words. Every fiber in my body screams, begging me to fight for her, but I know and I understand where she’s coming from. Ivan and Artur can see it as well.

The truth is, we are fragile.

When we’re with Lyric, we’re fragile. Vulnerable. We let Bowman go because Smith paid her a distressing visit. Bowman. We had him, and we let him go. I should’ve known then that it would come back to bite us in the ass. And here we are.

As I walk out of Lyric’s apartment flanked by Artur and Ivan, I make it my mission to pay those fuckers in kind for everything they’ve done, for everything they tried to do, and for everything they’re about to do.

“We’re taking the war to them,” I state to my brother and best friend.

“Burn it all down,” Ivan agrees.

18

Artur

The following days feel like an agonizingly slow torture.

I can’t sleep. I can barely eat. I keep checking my phone, looking to see when Lyric was last online.

We’re worried about her.

As long as Smith, Bowman, and Phelps are on the loose, I don’t think Lyric will ever be truly safe.

“She’s inside.” Max’s voice knocks me from my thoughts.

It’s a chilly evening, close to midnight, and the city’s hustle and bustle has dwindled with the late hours. My nerves are fried and everyone I see feels like a potential enemy. It could be paranoia on account of everything that has happened over the past few months, or it could be the simmering anger morphing into anxiety, playing tricks on my mind in Lyric’s absence.

Either way, I’m fucking miserable, and my brain is working overtime to keep me focused.

“Phelps’s secretary, you mean?” I ask, looking around, making sure we weren’t followed.

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