Page 89 of Vitaly

How could I have been gone for so long?

“There’s a cell phone under the seat of the Honda,” Roman motions toward the car. “I’ll text you directions to a safe house for Mila. Go back to the mansion and pretend like nothing is wrong… If you fail, Nikita will know I didn’t kill her, and I promise you he’ll finish the job. And he’ll kill me too, in case that matters.”

He gives Mila a pitied look before getting in his car and driving away, leaving me holding my broken queen. The more seconds that tick by, the less I feel capable of patience.

“We don’t have to wait,” I say, rubbing a circle over her back. “I could bring Nikita to you tonight.Now.”

She shakes her head. “It wouldn’t be good for the Bratva.”

“I care more about what’s good foryouthan what’s good for the Bratva.”

She pulls back to look me in the eyes. “The Bratva must always come first, Vitaly. Always.”

There’s a seriousness in her eyes that’s so firm, I don’t argue. I won’t dare disappoint her. Not right now.

She lays her head back against my chest when enough time passes that she believes her point has been made, and I don’t ruin it by telling her it’ll never be the way she claims she wants.

I was raised to always put the Bratva first, above my blood and above myself. Then the day came when the Bratva put me last.

I’ll never make that mistake again. Not even as their king.

24

VITALY

My hands cramp from my grip on the steering wheel when I pull into the drive of my childhood home.

I want to kill him.Now. The closer the Jeep crawls to Nikita, the tenser I become, and the harder my jaw clenches.

Not once before today did I wish my uncle dead. Not once, despite the cruel man he’s obviously become. In spite of everything, I’ve still seen him as my father’s brother, as part of my family. I don’t know what my father would’ve wanted, and that was enough to keep me from wishing anything at all.

Now I can’t stop seeing myself with my hands around his neck. And I think he somehow knows this because there are four more guards than yesterday visibly patrolling the grounds and an extra two at the front door.

When I park the Jeep and go to the door, hoping to head straight to my room before anyone notices the fury I’m holding inside of me, one of the guards holds out a hand to stop me.

“The Pakhan requests that you meet him out back.”

“Out back?” I ask, my forehead wrinkling.

“In the garden.” The guard angles his head like I need further clarification regarding which direction to go.

My spine steeled, I start that way, using the walk to collect myself.

This is important.

It’svital.

If I don’t pull off a calm demeanor, Roman will die. Mila could be found, thenshewill die. Neither of those things can happen.

I clear my throat and roll my neck, shaking out the tension in my hands just before rounding the corner.

I haven’t been out back yet. I suppose I’ve had little reason to. There was nothing sentimental about this part of the property. Nothing of my parents to remember.

There was a pool. A patio. A shooting range where my grandfather gave me my first gun.

There was no garden. My mother kept her flowerbeds at the front of the property.

Thiswas not here.

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