Page 155 of Bratva Knight

“Safe and sound.” It killed me not being able to go with her yet. I had every intention of going. There was no way I could handle being apart from her, even if shewasn’tpregnant. The fact that she was just intensified all of those protective, possessive feelings I already had towards her. Times a billion.

I just had to talk to my father first and let him know I was leaving. He hadn’t been in the best of moods since returning. You’d think he’d be happy, having been rescued and freed from Talon’s stupid gladiator games. But he’d been the exact opposite: moody, withdrawn, downright fucking sullen.

Part of it, I suspected, was because he’d been searching for Talon and hadn’t had any luck in finding him. The man was hell-bent on revenge, and I honestly didn’t think he was going to rest until he got it.

The other part, I’m sure (though, he’d deny it), had something to do with the red-haired woman. Autumn. His mood had turned even more sour after her departure, to the point that the soldiers and the staff were afraid to talk in his presence, in case he snapped and bit their heads off (something he’d been doing a lot of lately). If someone even breathed around him, he threw a fucking tantrum. Father was already short-tempered, but this? This was something entirely different.

“Do you know what this is about?” I pulled my phone out, double-checking it was on loud just in case Tatiana called me. If she needed me, I didn’t want to miss the call.

“Not a single clue,” Lukyan responded. “You, Zander?”

“No idea.”

That didn’t bode well.

Father stomped into the room a few minutes later, that dark, angry cloud that had been following him around for the last few days hanging over his head.

He looked around the room. “Where’s your wife?”

Considering only one of us was married (for now), it was easy to guess he was talking to Aleksandr.

My brother frowned, getting to his feet. “She’s upstairs.”

“Get her here,” he snapped. “What part of ‘family meeting’ did you not understand? She’s family, isn’t she?”

Aleksandr hid his surprise well. Just a slight crinkle at the edge of his eyes showed that he was startled by Father’s order, but he did as he commanded, leaving and reappearing a moment later with Drea in tow. His little cartel wife looked a little nervous as she stepped into the room. Surprising, considering how sure of herself she was, the confidence she’d always displayed. Was she nervous…scared of my father? A lot of people were, so it wouldn’t be entirely surprising, I guess.

She cleared her throat awkwardly and came to stand in front of my father. “Hello, Mr Butcher—I mean, Mr Volkov—it’s nice to meet you. Well, I guess we’ve met before. Not sure if you remember. You probably don’t, it was a long time ago. Well, not a long,longtime ago, but it was before you were kidnapped and everything—” she winced and shook her head. “Sorry, uhm, Aleksandr said you wanted to see me? Maybe? Or was he wrong? I can go.”

Her rambling put the first bit of amusement on my father’s face I’d seen in days. There it was—that tiny, little twinkle in his eyes that showed he found the whole thing utterly humorous.

“I remember you,” was all he replied with.

“Okay. Cool. Well, I remember you. Obviously.” Aleksandr frowned down at her as she continued to ramble. “I mean, who wouldn’t remember you, you know, ‘cause of the whole ‘kkkkkkkkkk’.” She swiped a finger across her throat. “You’ve killeda lotof people. How many peoplehaveyou killed anyway? Do you know? Do you keep count? I keep count—” Aleksandr slapped a hand over her mouth to get her to finally stop talking.

Lukyan snickered.

“Right.” My father cleared his throat with an awkward cough and moved to his chair behind his desk. But he didn’t sit down. He just held it open, staring pointedly at Aleksandr. Lukyan and I shared a look with one another, our faces mirrored in shock.

“Father?” Aleksandr questioned, confusion in his eyes.

Drea forcibly removed his hand that was still covering her mouth. “He wants you to sit down,” she whispered out of the side of her mouth.

“I know that,” he hissed back.Thatwas what was confusing him.

It wasFather’schair. It’s wherehesat. Where thePakhansat. Offering the seat to him held a significant meaning, one we all understood.

When Father was kidnapped, the role ofPakhanhad gone to Aleksandr by default. Now that he was back, though, his previous position was now his once again, and Aleksandr returned to being his second-in-command. Everything had gone back to normal, the status quo restored. At least, so we thought. Until now, because it wasn’t just his seat that Father was offering. It was his position.

Before, Aleksandr had no choice but to fill the role. With Father gone, someone had to step up. We all assumed that when he returned, he would take back the role permanently, but what he was doing now suggested otherwise.

Father said nothing, staring Aleksandr down. Waiting. We all waited to see what he would do. He was still young in terms of leading the Bratva. At fifty-four, he still had a good ten or so years before he even needed to think about stepping down.

So why was he offering it to Aleksandr now? Over a decade early?

Determination and pride shone in my brother’s eyes. With his shoulders back, head held high, posture perfect, he marched over and took the seat that was offered, conditions and all.

Theshutterof a photo being snapped rang out into the air. We all looked at Lukyan, his phone in his hand. He bared his teeth in an innocent smile.

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