Page 79 of Bloody Lace

Staying has to be her choice. If I force her, she’ll hate me. And the only thing that would be worse than losing her forever is her hating me forever, instead.

I don’t want to leave her. But I’ve already left the matter of my father unsettled for two days, while I waited for her to wake up. Vik has kept him under guard at the mansion, under my orders, but I can’t let this go any longer.

I was fortunate that Pyotr, the head of security at the mansion, was the one who overheard the meeting. He’s been loyal to my father for years, but my father conspiring with outside forces to kill my wife was a step too far. With Vik backing him up, he marshaled enough security to keep my father under house arrest while I stayed with Evelyn, and they’ve been watching him since.

Nicci escaped. But I’m not concerned with her. With Barca dead and my father soon to follow, she’ll have no means to harmEvelyn again. I’ve never harmed or killed a woman, and I don’t intend to start now. But I do intend to cut the head off of every snake who tried to enable her.

Whatever deals the Yashkov family had with hers will be done. Whatever I can do to bring down her family financially, I will. But first, my father needs to be dealt with.

I expected to feel something more, when I walked into the mansion, heading to the upstairs bedroom where Vik and Pyotr have him under guard. But all I feel is a weight in my chest, a cold stone where my heart should be.

He tried to kill Evelyn. And father or no, that’s something I can’t let slide. Not only because Evelyn is my wife, because I would doanythingto protect her, but because I won’t have any threat to our child left, either. My father doesn’t know she’s pregnant, but I don’t trust him not to make another move against her, especially once that becomes known.

And the move that he did make can’t be forgiven, either.

Pyotr is at the door with two other men and Vik, when I come up the stairs. Vik’s eyes flick to the gun in my hand, silencer on, and he nods. I glance at Pyotr.

“Any objections?” I ask calmly, and Pyotr shakes his head.

“He went too far. It’s what needs to be done.”

He steps aside, and I unlock the door, swinging it open as Vik steps in behind me.

It’s just the two of us in the room, and my father. He’s unarmed, the room swept for weapons before they put him in here, and no one else needs to witness what’s about to happen. I look at my father, and I wait to feel something—even anger—but there’s nothing.

Just the cold resolution of what needs to be done.

My father looks older in this light. His face is drawn, craggy, and he looks tired. Sick, even. I search for the sympathy I should feel, but there’s none of that, either.

“Come to kill your own father?” His voice is a sardonic rasp, but I don’t flinch.

“You knew this was coming. You had to have known, as soon as you got caught.” I flick the safety off of the gun, and I see his gaze twitch towards it. “I just have one question for you.”

I raise the gun, aiming it towards him. “Why?”

My father sneers, staring me down. “I made a good deal for you. I increased our wealth. Found a woman who would have made a good Bratva wife. A woman who understands how things are. Who would have been grateful to be a part of this family. But instead, you threw all that away for that whore?—”

He barely gets the last word out before I pull the trigger.

I’d intended to kill him in the Bratva way. Execution-style, on his knees, a gun to the back of his head. Quick, with honor. The way a man of his stature should go out when he’s gone too far, and has to meet his end with a bullet.

But no one speaks that way about my wife, and ends his life any other way than staring down the barrel of my gun.

“Get the cleaners up here,” I tell Vik, turning away. “Dump his body in the Hudson. Make sure he’s weighed down. The fucking fish can have him.”

The silence behind me feels louder than anything my father ever said to me. I wait to feel some kind of regret, some stab of conscience over what I’ve done, but there’s nothing. I did what was necessary to protect my family. I acted as the future leader of the Bratva. And I don’t have any regrets.

Without another word, I walk away.

—

It’stwo weeks before I can bring Evelyn home, after the new year. I visit her in the hospital every day, for as long as I can staythere, ignoring regular visitor’s hours and coming and going as I please. No one in the hospital is going to tell me differently, and they soon learn not to try.

I don’t bring up the topic of Evelyn staying again. I wait, and I sit with her instead, talking to her about her shop, about the progress that’s still happening, all the things she put in motion still being worked on. I bring her photos and progress reports for approval, let her know when the broken window is fixed, and encourage her that when she’s healed, she’ll be able to go back to work without any trouble at all, as long as she follows the doctor’s instructions.

I count down to the new year with her, kissing her at midnight, and she kisses me back, her fingers threading through my hair and giving me hope that when this is all over, she’ll choose me, the same way I’ve chosen her. And a week into the year, I’m finally able to bring her back to the penthouse.

I help her to the couch, tucking a thick, soft blanket around her, as Evelyn makes a face at me. “I can do it myself,” she grumbles, and I shake my head, as Buttons jumps up onto the couch next to her. He barks, looking towards where his leash is hanging, and Evelyn starts to get up.

---