Page 72 of Claimed By the Bratva Brothers

“Sorry, your guys just weren’t fast enough,” Artur chuckles. “Oh, by the way, there’s something you should know,” he pauses, taking his sweet time to enjoy the consternation on their faces, the looks of guilt and shame, anger and helplessness, as the realization of their fate becomes inevitable. “It wasn’t just Max who had a run at your daughter.”

“Artur!” Polina shouts.

“The three of us had her,” he says. “Day in and day out, for quite a long time. Polina was perfectly happy with us sharing her while she waltzed around your house, pretending to be your precious, innocent angel.”

Larionov gasps. “How dare you say such things?”

“It’s the truth and you should hear it before you leave this world behind,” Artur replies. “Your daughter had all of us at once, and she loved every minute of it. It’s why she’s been pestering you to get Max to marry her. She’s desperate to be in our bed again.”

“You piece of—” Larionov moves to get up, but Ivan empties the rest of his clip in the old man’s chest first. Polina screams. Artur tells her to shut up, forcing her into a sudden, shocked silence.

I wish I had a smidge of sympathy left for her but I don’t.

A minute passes in heavy, loaded silence, as Larionov breathes his last muted breath while staring at me. I wonder what his final thoughts were. Artur wanted him to suffer. He wanted the shock factor to destroy him before death took him. I cannot imagine a more torturous way to die, knowing such things about your daughter, a daughter you had so highly revered.

I have a mind of doing the same to Phelps, if we all survive what comes next.

“You have two choices right now,” I calmly tell Polina. “And not a lot of time to decide.”

“Fuck you,” she hisses, bringing her knees up to her chest. She hugs them tightly, desperate to give herself some kind of comfort while she’s forced to sit there and stare at her father’s lifeless body.

“Cry all you want,” I tell her. “But these are the facts. You’re screwed on every possible level. I know Bowman called a meeting with every mob head that would listen. I know your father was there and voted for our assassination. Rest assured, every single person who voted yes this morning will not live to see tomorrow.”

“My father—”

“Your father betrayed us. He broke the code that he and his father before him were so proud to have enforced. You don’t turn on your own people, Polina,” I cut her off. “Now, I know that Bowman has Lyric.”

“Lyric?”

Artur gives her a hard look. “I have zero tolerance left for you right now.”

“Okay, so?” Polina croaks, wincing just a little.

“You either tell us what you know about where she is, what they plan to do with her, every single fucking thing, no matter how insignificant it might seem to you, or you die. Tell us and you have my word that I will let you live.”

Polina narrows her eyes at me, her fury palpable. “And what’s my other choice?”

“Say nothing and I will make you wish I would simply put a bullet through your head,” I reply. “I will kill you slowly, until you beg me to end it. And trust me, if we don’t get Lyric back alive, I will make it hurt like nothing you’ve ever known.”

“You love her,” she mumbles. “You actually love that prissy bitch.”

“That’s not your concern,” I say.

Ivan gives me a dark look. “You’re being too nice, brother.”

“I’m giving her one last chance,” I say, then turn my sights on Polina again. “So, what’ll it be, Polina? Where do we stand?”

24

Artur

Polina quivers in her chair, fury and despair warring in her eyes.

“Your father voted to have us killed,” I say, checking the clip in my gun, making sure that it’s full. “He walked into that meeting this morning, supposedly representing the Bratva. The organization that we are in charge of.”

“You didn’t have to kill him,” she says, her voice low, uneven.

Max scoffs, staring at the old man’s body. “Don’t lie to yourself. A crime like his could only be punished by death. He tried to make us out as pariahs just so he could get his grubby hands on the throne. Let this be a lesson to you, Polina. You reap what you sow.”

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