Page 35 of For a Price

I’ll do the same to the rest of his body. Piece by piece.

In front of an entire audience or alone in his agony for my ears only. It doesn’t matter to me.

All that matters is that this piece of garbage suffers for harming my kitty cat.

“DOSTATOCHNO?*!”

My father’s thunderous voice contradicts his otherwise frail body. It echoes across the hall as he and his closest guards break through the gathered crowd.

I pay them no mind. I’ve stuck the blade into Leonid’s back, wrenching it free only to bring it down again on a different part of him.

“Ostanovit yego?*!”

Father’s men descend on me. Several latch onto my arms to pry the knife out of my grip. A few others climb onto my back to subdue me that way. The last few grab an unconscious and bleeding out Leonid and drag him away by the ankles.

If the scene was chaotic before, it turns into a clusterfuck now.

It takes eight different men to finally wrestle the knife away and get me to stop going after Leonid. Even after they attempted to pull him away, I fought off the guys strapped to my back and went for a second round. Stealing a glass of vodka from a bystander, I shattered it in my grip and used a broken shard to lodge into Leonid’s thigh before they tugged him out of my reach again.

Once he’s taken away and I’ve been restrained, my father demands everyone leave. He orders the rest of the group gathered in the hall to disperse. I’m told to follow him to his private office. I shrug off the duraks who grip my arms, casting venomous looks of warning that make them pale.

I’ll follow father as he’s requested, but that doesn’t mean I’m not fuming.

That I won’t find where they put Leonid and finish the job.

“You,” I bark at Ivanka, one of the few who remain in the hall, “take Kat to her quarters. Stay with her until I return.”

The blonde madam gives a nod despite the sourness on her withered face. She goes to collect a brutalized Katerina off the closet floor and escort her upstairs to her room.

I watch them disappear up the stairs, huffing ragged breaths into my lungs. Barely contained rage still courses through me, begging for freedom. I’ll be up there soon to check on my wounded kitty cat.

Find out from her firsthand what the fuck happened.

My father is waiting for me when I turn up. He’s seated behind his desk, flanked by a few men on both sides. I enter without deference, fists clenched and teeth bared.

“Shut the door,” he tells Pavel, who is on his left.

Pavel does as he’s told. The door snaps shut behind me, signaling what I suspected. I’m about to be scolded for what I did in the hall.

Leonid might have harmed one of the pets—as far as everyone else knows—but I hurt my father’s brother; I hurt a boss within our ranks.

I would’ve killed him if they’d let my attack go on any longer.

My offense is greater in their eyes.

Silence drags on for several more seconds. I stand before the sovietnik and wait his reprimand.

“Explain,” he says in his thick, raspy accent.

“There’s nothing to explain. I made it clear tonight that my pet was not to be touched. Leonid took her away and touched her. He was hurting her. She was bruised on the floor?—”

“Why does it matter?” he interrupts impatiently. “You are upset because you wanted her first?”

I bite down hard on my jaw, a fresh wave of anger washing over me. It’s no surprise this will be treated as a trivial matter. The women that the family buy and sell are treated like expendable chattel. Katerina is no different in their view.

“I told him she was mine,” I say simply. “He disrespected me.”

“You cut off his hand.”

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