Page 86 of Bratva Butcher

What a weird guy.

For the rest of the trip, no one else said anything to me. Not even Dimitri, which I wasn’t overly surprised by. The man couldn’t make up his damn mind about whether or not he hated or liked me, so whatever. I was fed up with the hot and cold game he was playing.

After god knows how many hours of travelling by submarine, we eventually stopped, rising to the surface where three giant cruise ships were waiting to take us the rest of our journey. I vaguely heard Mikhail explain that we had gone as far as we could via submarine, and we needed to take the rest of the way by ship—something about how a Russian submarine in American waters could cause some pretty big problems.

The entire time, both on the submarine and on the cruise ships, Dimitri stayed by Nikolai’s side, supporting and comforting him as much as possible. And I just watched him—covertly, of course. I didn’t want to make it obvious I was oggling him, but fuck, I was.

He’d showered and changed since then, and was in a well-fitted black three piece suit, looking every bit like a man you’d see photographed on the front cover of a GQ magazine. I liked how he looked before, rough around the edges, shirtless, covered in dirt and blood. But there was something about a man in a suit that just got my pussy tingling.

I was given clothes to change into as well, which I appreciated. Just basic pants and a long sleeved shirt that I put on after I showered. It felt good, refreshing, to wash away the taint of the island and everything I’d endured being there.

When we made port, it was chaotic. So chaotic that I was able to slip away easily. Dimitri and his children were so busy helping Nikolai with Tatiana that no one was watching me. I just stepped back and back until the shadows swallowed me up.

But a part of me kept me rooted in place, unable to walk away completely. I stayed hidden, watching Dimitri order his men around, committing every detail about him to memory because I knew it would be the last time I saw him.

Now that we were free of the confines of the island, we were also free of any promises we’d made to each other. Our truce was officially null and void. We were free to kill each other. Where once that idea had excited me, it now filled me with unease.

Dimitri shut the car door and tapped the roof twice with his hand. The car sped off with Nikolai and Tatiana inside, most likely heading towards the closest hospital. He turned, running a hand through his hair as he exhaled a deep breath.

My eyes ran over his face, that strong jawline, those mesmerising blue eyes. He really was a fucking marvel.

I saw the exact moment he noticed I was gone. His brows furrowed deeply, and he spun, looking around frantically, his eyes jumping from person to person. He marched forward, constantly roving his gaze over everything, searching, searching.

But it was too late.

“Bye, Butcher,” I whispered, stepping back and disappearing into the night.

Chapter Twenty-Six

Dimitri Volkov

One week later

Someone knocked on my office door.

“What?” I snapped, not lifting my gaze from the stack of papers in my hand. Instead of coming in, the person just knocked again.

My anger spiked, which, let’s face it, was a recurring problem as of late. It had been a week since we’d returned from the Til Death Games. Tatiana had made a full recovery, which I knew Nikoali was ecstatic about. Illayana sustained minor injuries and was now back with her husband in New York. I had a feeling that man wasn’t going to let her out of his sight for the foreseeable future.

If I was being honest, I expected to come back and find everything in a fucking mess. To see our accounts in the red. Our inventory out. Possibly even a loss in clients. Even thoughAleksandr told me he’d handled everything, I still thought things might not be as okay as he portrayed.

But I was wrong.

Everything was fine. Better than fine, in fact. I’d been gone for nearly two months, but you wouldn’t be able to tell because Aleksandr and his new wife had done a spectacular job keeping up with everything.

Despite all the challenges they’d faced, they’d thrived, even going as far as bringing in new business, cornering New York and making it Bratva territory. An advantageous move. One I might not have taken myself, given what was going on at the time.

So, why was I angry all the time?

I had no idea.

It couldn’t possibly be because of a certain annoying, infuriating redhead, about the fact that she just turned around and walked away without so much as a fucking goodbye. That I had no idea where she was. What she was doing. If she was alive or dead. Why would I possibly care about any of that?

I fucking didn’t.

If she didn’t care enough to even say a simple, “see you later”, why should I?

The time we spent together wasn’t by choice. I didn’t miss her. Didn’t miss her voice. Her laugh. Her smile. The way she made me feel.

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