Page 51 of Cruel Russian Pakhan
Mine.
Artyom wasn’t going to hand her off like property, least of all to some rotting bastard pushing sixty, as punishment for simply existing. What the fuck was wrong with him?
And how the hell did he even get a picture of Katya? Did he pass it around like a fucking menu? That old prick was probably jerking off to it. Worse, I wondered who else Artyom had shown it to. Who else he’d propositioned her to like she was some deal to be bartered.
If he thought he could make that announcement in front of me and I’d just sit there and take it…
He was out of his goddamn mind.
Katya. Was. Mine.
Before I realized what I was doing, I was on my feet. I stormed over, grabbed Katya’s arm, and yanked her to her feet, pulling her a few steps away.
“No,” I growled. “You’re not handing her over to some fucking fossil.”
Artyom stepped forward, glass still in hand. “And who the fuck are you to stop me?” His voice dripped with contempt. “You’ve got Vera. A gem. A prize. A worthy Bratva woman. This bitch,” he snarled in Katya's direction, and she flinched, “is just leftover trash. I can do whatever the hell I want with her.”
Something inside me snapped. Arguing with Artyom was useless; he’d already made up his mind. Katya was under his control, and though she was still legally my wife, I was expected to marry Vera once the annulment was finalized. That was the deal.
But, just thinking of Katya under another man, his hands teasing and caressing her, her giving her moans to him—or worse, him hurting her, leaving marks on her—made me see red. I needed to get us out of there.
So, I did what our world respected most.
I chose violence.
In a flash, I drew my gun, flicked off the safety, and wrapped one arm around her shoulders, my hand clamping down on the opposite side, careful not to choke her.
I pressed the barrel to Katya’s temple and began backing us toward the door. She gasped, rigid in my grasp, a soft whimper escaping her lips.
I wanted to whisper in her ear to trust me, that I had a plan, that I'd never hurt her, but I didn't want to be overheard and I needed her reaction to be as natural as possible.
Yegor, Zahkar, and Kira jumped to their feet. Zahkar caught Kira by the arm before she could charge forward.
"Lev, please,” Katya sobbed. “It’s fine. Just let it go. He’s right.”
But it wasn’t fine.
I was holding a loaded gun to my wife’s head, in front of her siblings. Her tears fell warm against my hand, but I couldn’t stop now. There was no other way.
Artyom's sneer deepened. “Go on, shoot her,” he said coldly. “Do us all a favor.”
I struggled not to turn the gun on Artyom and put a bullet in his skull right there and then. Did he hate her that much for what her mother did? Why didn't he direct any of the rage toward his father, who had been the one to step out on his wife and pay for all the hotel accommodations?
Katya was a victim of circumstance.
“No!” Vera’s voice cracked like glass from across the room. Then, she lunged forward, grabbing Artyom’s arm. “You can’t tell him that! She’s our sister!”
“She’s a bastard!” Artyom roared, shaking her off. Vera stumbled and Yegor caught her. “She’s some whore’s mistake. She’s not one of us!” His eyes locked onto mine. “And you, Safin, you’re standing on Rykov ground. Don’t forget that. We could bury you here and no one would bat an eye.”
Let them try.
I wouldn’t die alone. I'd drag that son of a bitch with me. We'd both see each other in hell. Before I could respond, Yegor stepped forward.
“Artyom,” he interjected carefully, his eyes never leaving Katya or me as he spoke. “One, whether you like it or not, Katya is a Rykov. And you know that if Dad were alive, he'd demand that you respect her as such. If you allow Lev to kill her, that's going to open a Pandora's box none of us will be able to close. Two, I'm assuming Lev's siblings know he's here. If you kill him, that would ignite a war we can't afford. Legally, you'll bekilling your sister's husband. Bratva is founded on family, and the founding fathers will have your head if they find you guilty. And three, right now, Lev is worth more to us alive than dead. We need that smuggling route. You know it and I know it.”
The silence that followed was suffocating.
Then Artyom roared and hurled his glass at the wall. It shattered, and Kira screamed. Vera rushed to hold her.
