Page 107 of Vitaly

Mila stands first then helps me to my feet.

“Nice to see ya, boss,” Olive says to me as we slowly shuffle to the door. I just nod and follow behind Mila.

When we get into the ballroom, Roman is the one with the gun. Elira stands next to him and Maksim with her arms crossed over her chest as men—I’m assumingourmen—force the unlucky choosers over to stand before the judge. The Grucos look unharmed, aside from Anthony who looks like he has taken a rock to the head. Blood slides down his face. They could leave, and they probably should, but I imagine they want to see what happens next.

Mila taps Roman on his shoulder then arches to speak in his ear. I’m close enough to hear, but I doubt anyone else can.

“That isn’t Olive.”

Roman raises his head and turns to Maksim and another soldier. “Get Nikita in here.”

Maksim nods, but before they can leave, Nikita hobbles inside with his hands raised, the gun’s barrel pressing against his head.

Olive—Or apparently not—gives Roman a pointed stare before handing the gun over to Maksim.

“Don’t look at me like that,” she barks at him with a roll of her eyes. “You’re welcome for saving the day.” She roams her gaze over the accused. “Now where’s Alik?”

Good question.

I look around as well, starting with the men standing then moving on to the bodies on the floor. When I find him, my stomach drops. I see him forced to his knees in the center of the ring the same time his wife does.

“Alik?” she says, her voice still strong. Still certain. When she speaks next, she’s hysterical. “Alik!” She tries to dive toward the ring, but Maksim takes her around the waist while she thrashes. “No! You promised!” she screams, whipping her head to Roman. “You promised!”

“Get her out of here,” Roman says, never looking at Olive. She wails and tries to claw her way to her husband, but Maksim lifts her over his shoulder at Roman’s command.

Her agony slowly fades as Maksim carries her away, but it sticks with me as I stare at my brother, bound with the rock piles surrounding him. I know exactly the fate Roman and the others have planned for him.

“Guess she’s back,” Nikita quips, sounding amused. I have no idea what he means, but it earns a glare from Roman.

When Roman gestures forward, Nikita is dragged to the middle by a giant of a man named Hugh where he’s forced onto his knees. Hugh goes to work binding him just as he must’ve Alik.

I don’t know what to say.

I’m frozen in place as men start to circle the Pakhan and underboss. The Bratva leaders who’ve just been overthrown.

This is a fitting death. It is. To turn Nikita’s cruelty back on him. To allow each man to take a part in these deaths… It makes sense. And Alik… He threw that first stone. He didn’t fight with us. If he had, he wouldn’t be in the middle of that ring.

He chose poorly. Just like so many of the men on the ground.

I look at the men left. Plenty of guards. A few lieutenants. Roman will want to kill them all, won’t he?

When Roman urges me to the circle, I trudge over to it with Mila walking tall beside me, already playing the part of Pakhan’s partner well. I hold my bleeding side as people part for me until I’m standing directly in front of my brother and my uncle, then I let my hand fall.

Roman faces the crowd. “For years, we’ve put up with Nikita’s sadistic reign.” His words earn angry nods from the crowd. “He’s tortured us. Threatened our families. Pissed on our dignity and destroyed what it meant to be a part of this brotherhood.” Several agreeable murmurs float up. “Now,” Roman booms, “we have been given a second chance to rebuild abetterbrotherhood. To follow thetruePetrov heir. And that starts today.” Cheers erupt in a roar that takes over the room.

I don’t share an ounce of the excitement. I look around at all the faces, all the pain. I wonder how many of them wished for my death nine years ago.

Roman picks up a rock and hands it to me while people cheer. Angry people. Hurt people. Grieving people.

People convinced this rock will solve something.

But it won’t. I wish it would. I wish it would fix the pain Mila feels, the pain thatIfeel. I wish it would fix everything.

But it won’t.

I think of the man I nearly beat to death for the crime of loving a little, broken bird. I did it because I was hungry. I did it because I was weak.

Don’t I deserve death for that? Don’t I deserve to find my birds mangled beneath my pillow?

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