Page 91 of Bratva Butcher

They gotworse.

Why?

Why couldn’t I get her off my fucking mind?

Why was I constantly having to stop myself from hunting her down?

WasIplaguingherevery waking thought, like she was mine?

I fucking doubted it. And that pissed me off even more.

The conversation ceased the moment I stepped into my office, Aleksandr, Nikolai and Lukyan exchanging awkward looks with one another as they snapped their mouths shut in an instant. Like they were afraid to talk in front of me in case I lost it.

Smart.

Aleksandr and Nikolai were dressed for the day—full suit and tie—but my youngest son usually chose comfort over business attire. He was in a pair of grey sweats and decided it was a day to go shirtless.

I glanced around the room before locking my gaze on my eldest son. “Where’s your wife?”

The slight crease in his brows told me he was confused by my question. He slowly came to his feet. “She’s upstairs.”

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

I knew I was being…well…for lack of a better word, bitchy. But I honestly couldn’t help it. My patience was non-existent, my temper like a bomb about to detonate and explode.

Surprise flashed in Aleksandr’s eyes for the briefest moment before he left the room, returning a few minutes later with Drea in tow.

Standing at five feet tall, she might have been a tiny, little thing, but she was also full of fire and spirit. She was wearing a heavy metal t-shirt and ripped black jeans with a pair of combatboots to match. Every inch of skin was covered in tattoos and she had several facial piercings.

I remembered when I first met her. She’d literally run right into me. Fear had streaked across her face for the briefest moment, but then she’d surprised the shit out of me by standing her ground and not backing down. Not crumbling despite the fact that she was uneasy in my presence.

She impressed me then. And after hearing everything she’d done to help rescue us from Talon’s grasp, I was even more impressed with her.

Drea cleared her throat awkwardly. “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 I found myself fighting the urge to chuckle at her rambling. “Sorry, um, Aleksandr said you wanted to see me? Maybe? Or was he wrong? I can go.”

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

“Okay. Cool. Well, I remember you. Obviously. I mean, who wouldn’t remember you, you know, ’cause of the whole ’kkkkkkkkkk’.” My brows rose slightly as 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—”

Huh. She’s a talker. Surprising, considering my son is a man of few words.

Aleksandr slapped a hand over her mouth to stop her rambling. Lukyan snickered.

I cleared my throat with a cough. “Right.” I wasn’t going to answer that question, partly because I didn’t actually know how many people I’d killed.

I stopped counting a long time ago.

Now that everyone was there, it was time to make things official.

I moved behind my desk, pulled out my chair, and instead of sitting down, offered it to Aleksandr. The room filled with silence. Nikolai and Lukyan shared a look with one another, shock mirrored on their faces.

“Father?” Aleksandr questioned.

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.

Aleksandr and I stared at each other from across the room, the significance of the moment not lost on him. He knew I wasn’t just offering him a place to sit down. I was offering him…everything.

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