Page 76 of Ruthless Bratva King

I glare at him, every nerve in my body alight with tension, but I say nothing.

He smirks, leaning against the wall. “Silence can be a weapon, I suppose. Or maybe you’re just too shocked to speak.” He pauses, his eyes narrowing slightly. “But I think I know what you’re thinking.”

I doubt it.

He pushes off the wall and takes a step closer, his presence oppressive, his voice low and smooth. “You’re wondering why Dmitri lied to me. Why he didn’t tell you about the statue. Why he keeps so many secrets.”

I flinch, barely perceptibly, but he notices.

“And you’re asking yourself, if he lied about that, what else has he lied about?”

“Get to the point,” I snap, my voice sharp despite the lump forming in my throat.

“Your father,” he begins, his voice conversational, “was a lucky thief. He stole my jade statue while it was left in the open by two idiotic insurance adjusters. They are long dead. Your father, on the other hand, ran to save his own hide? Heard that it belonged to me, that my rival wanted it for himself.”

He paces up and down, talking more to himself than me. “I’ve suspected Dmitri for some time. Thought he might want to kill me and take over. The only real threat to my empire.

“So I had that message carved in your shitty little apartment. I wanted your father to run. Had to know if Dmitri still had his edge. I knew your father would leave you behind, I knew everything about you and your pathetic worthless family before Dmitri set foot in your place. I thought that he’d kill you if he was still loyal or let you live if he wasn’t.”

He shouts again, eyes bulging once more. “He let you live!”

His voice lowers back to normal. “I spent years drumming weakness out of him. It’s my own failure, I suppose. It’s always those you trust most who let you down most, don’t you find?”

Dmitri knew. From the very beginning, he knew who I was. He knew what he was supposed to do.

The room spins, and I clutch at the chair beneath me to keep from collapsing. The memories of every moment with Dmitri—every kiss, every touch, every whispered word—now feel tainted, twisted by the knowledge of his original intent.

That time he stood with the knife in the dark. He wasn’t keeping me safe. He was trying to decide whether or not to kill me.

Peter grins. “We all lie, don’t we? You tell yourself you have talent but you don’t. All you’ll ever be is a victim. Either he’ll kill you or I will. That’s all you have to look forward to.” He winks. “Oh, that and watching your husband being tortured while I fuck you.”

He walks over to the door. “Not so talkative now, are you? When he’s gone, you’ll finally see the truth. You’re on your own, Elena. You always have been.”

54

DMITRI

Iwalk into the room. Peter’s men stand scattered, their eyes tracking me like vultures circling a corpse.

I keep my stride deliberate, unhurried. Each step echoes off the concrete walls. They want to see a crack, a hesitation. I give them nothing.

Peter is waiting at the far end, perched on the edge of a battered table like a king on a broken throne. His smug smile widens as I approach, his posture relaxed but his eyes sharp, dissecting me for weakness.

“Well, Dmitri,” he drawls, his voice dripping with condescension. “It’s a fixer upper but it’s solid, don’t you think?”

“It’s done,” I reply.” The lie comes smoothly, my voice devoid of anything that could betray me.

He tilts his head, his smile sharpening. “You killed the whole family? Mom, Dad, Natalia?”

My mask doesn’t falter. I look him straight in the eye and deliver the next lie with the same detached precision. “Yes.”

For a moment, silence hangs heavy between us. Then he laughs—a low, satisfied chuckle that cuts through the air like a blade.

“Interesting,” he says, his tone patronizing. He waves a hand toward one of his men. Terence. A real prick. “I wonder if my guest heard you.”

Terence strides to a door at the side of the room, his heavy boots echoing with each step. My stomach knots, but my face remains impassive. The door creaks open, and then I see her.

Elena.

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