Page 37 of Brutal Union
He lets the words hang there like a noose, watching her through narrowed eyes.
For a moment, the only sound is the wail of distant sirens and the hiss of still-burning fire.
Then—Nadia steps forward. She stumbles.
I move without hesitation, catching her around the waist as her knees start to give. Her skin is hot, damp with blood and sweat, her body unsteady in my grip—but she pushes me off with a sharp breath, determined to stand on her own.
“I am the leader of the Bratva,” she says, her voice rough but steady. “And anyone who says otherwise dies.”
Bhon doesn’t flinch. He just shrugs.
“Then I guess you need to kill Nikolai Petrov.”
She freezes beside me. Her breathing slows. Her eyes widen slightly, then narrow. I see the tension hit her all at once.
Nikolai Petrov was the leader of the Bratva until it was revealed he wasn’t Boris Petrov’s biological son. He was the result of an affair between Nadia’s mother and another man—making him illegitimate in the eyes of the organization. He’s also Nadia’s half-brother.
For years, they were inseparable. She was his second-in-command, fiercely loyal, and by all accounts, completely devoted to him. But when Boris exposed Nikolai’s true parentage, it wasn’t to discredit him. It was to block Nadia.
Despite knowing Nikolai wasn’t his real son—and despite despising him—Boris still chose him as leader, simply to stop a woman from taking control. His misogyny outweighed his pride, his bloodline, and even his hatred. He would rather see the Bratva in the hands of a man he couldn’t stand than let Nadia take the throne she’d earned.
“No, you’re lying,” she gasps out, covering her mouth as if it escaped her lips before she realized she was going to say it.
The man lowers his pistol. “Nope, he’s the one who paid the Yakuza 1.5 million dollars in USD to kill you.”
Nadia coughs, her eyes narrowed on the man’s relaxed posture. “So kill me.”
A voice bellows over the rumble. “Can anyone hear me? Help is coming!”
“Not now, darling.” The man smirks. “I like to play with my kills first.”
10
NADIA
“Nadia stop,”Sho snarls, as I move to get up for the tenth time since he brought me to my safe house in Mount Vernon, New York right on the cusp of the Bronx.
Is this the safest location for me? No, Nikolai and Aleksandr both know about this place, and I am unsure if I can trust either of them right now. Surprisingly the only man in my life I can trust, I am actively trying to get killed by his own father. I want to feel guilty about that.I dofeel something close to regret, pretty similar to remorse, but I can’t afford that feeling right now.
The cauterized wound on my side pulls like it's being ripped open with every breath. It yawns wider every time I move, angry and raw beneath the skin. And as much as I know I owe Sho my life, the pain I’m in makes me want to pin him down and skin him alive just for touching me in the first place.
I limp across the room, heat radiating down my ribs, every step a silent curse. My body protests as I crouch by the closet on the far side, fingers trembling as I pull out a pair of black leggingsand a worn sports bra. I can’t afford softness, not now. Not when I know what’s coming.
“Nadia,” Sho warns behind me, his voice tight. The high-pitched scream of the teapot cuts through the tension, but I ignore him.
I bend down despite the burning throb in my abdomen, my breathing ragged. I shove a stack of clothes aside, hand sweeping deeper.
Nikolai wants me dead. My brother. The man I would’ve died for without hesitation even after the betrayal of lying to me about him being the true heir to the Bratva when he knew I was. The man who first put a blade in my hand, and then proceeded to teach me how to use it. The man who believed in me—when everyone else silenced me just because I didn’t have a dick—paid someone to fucking kill me.
He’s about to make his three kids orphans. Gwen, his wife, doesn’t deserve that. Gio and Mia don’t deserve that. They’re innocent people who love a guilty man. But what the fuck am I supposed to do—lie down and let him kill me out of some twisted loyalty? Out of pity? If that man truly cared about his family this wouldn’t even be an option.I am his sister.
My hand brushes the hardwood, and I grab the pocketknife tucked behind a fallen shirt. I flick it open and lean forward on my knees, wincing as the motion stretches the healing burn across my side.
Sho’s voice carries from the kitchen. “What are you doing?” I hear the clink of a mug hitting the counter, followed by the slam of a cabinet door.
I wedge the knife between two floorboards near the back of the closet, angling it with precision. One sharp twist and the wood pops free with a low creak.
“My brother wants me dead,” I mutter, sweat rolling down my spine. I pry up the board and slide it aside, revealing the hidden compartment beneath.
