Page 89 of Bratva Bride
For a second he hesitates, eyes searching my face. Then he nods once and eases to the side, weapon lowered but ready if I call on him again. The distance between Viktor and me is clear now, nothing but broken glass and blood on the floor.
Viktor tips his head, a laugh rumbling out of him. “Look at you. I do all of this for you and this is how you repay me? A pistol in my face?”
“You did this for yourself,” I say, voice low. “You bought your way in, you played both sides, and you used my grief as a lever.”
He chuckles again, wiping a smear of dust from his sleeve as if the violence never touched him at all. “I stabilized a fractured council, cut down the traitors, and handed you the room. You needed a purge and I gave it. The city will fall in line by morning.”
“At what price?” I ask. “How many bodies before you feel you proved your point?”
Viktor spreads his hands. “Bodies are the language of power, Konstantin. Speak it or be silenced. I did exactly what you could not the moment your wife walked away. I kept us on top.”
Anger pulses behind my eyes, but I keep the gun steady. “You kept yourself on top. Do not pretend this was anything but self-preservation.”
Viktor’s expression tightens. “I left Nikolai alive for you. That was mercy.”
“Mercy?” My finger tightens on the trigger. “You do not know the word.”
The room holds its breath. Rifat’s men have fanned out, weapons still trained on Viktor’s remaining guards. Council members cling to shattered tables, terrified to move. Glass crunches under my boots as I close the last steps until my gun is an inch from Viktor’s heart.
“Konstantin,” Viktor says softly, almost pleading now. “Everything I did was for the throne. For us.”
“For the throne,” I repeat, the weight of the gun suddenly cold in my hand. “Not for me. Never for me. This was for Alexei, wasn’tit? He came to you. Promised you the city if you helped him break me.”
Viktor’s jaw tightens. A shadow flickers in his eyes, something almost like anger, but he shakes his head. “He didn’t come to me.”
Viktor’s guards are outnumbered and disarmed. The room belongs to us, but Viktor’s challenge hangs thick in the air.
“Drop the gun,” he says, voice calm, eyes glittering. “Fight me on your own terms.”
For a long moment I study him, weighing pride against purpose. Then I open my hand. The pistol hits the marble with a dull clack and slides away. Rifat mutters a curse, but I step forward into the space between Viktor and me.
We circle, each of us listening for the smallest tell. Viktor strikes first. A quick jab to measure distance. I parry, feel the sting of his knuckles graze my forearm, then counter with a sharp elbow to his ribs. He grunts, sidesteps, and hooks his heel behind my ankle. I twist free, drive my knee toward his stomach, but he blocks and hammers a forearm across my jaw. Stars burst behind my eyes.
“You can rule this city,” he spits, closing in, fists flying. “Yet you waste time chasing ghosts and a woman who no longer trusts you.”
I twist, driving my elbow at his jaw, but he parries. “And who is responsible for that?” I snarl, pushing him back a step. “I’m not a fool, Viktor. I know exactly what you’ve been trying to do, parading your sister in front of me like bait.”
He laughs, wiping blood from his mouth. “You noticed.”
I catch his next punch, wrenching his arm aside. “You thought she would drive Nadya and me apart? Thought I would forget everything for a pretty face?”
Viktor yanks free, swinging wide. I take the hit on my forearm, feel the bruise bloom, then smash a knee into his thigh. He grunts, staggered.
“You looked tempted enough,” he spits.
“Not tempted,” I growl, slamming my shoulder into his chest and forcing him against the wall. “I was collecting proof.”
His eyes flare, surprise cutting through the arrogance. I hammer a forearm into his neck, pinning him.
His lip curls. “Believe what you like. Anya only showed you what power looks like when it is not afraid.”
I feel anger surge hot in my veins. “Power?” My fist drives into his ribs once, twice. He gasps, sagging. “You mistake poison for power.”
I shove away, letting him slump.
“And you don’t know the first thing about being a king or ruling,” he retorts. “Anya was wrong about you, and she’s never wrong about anything.”
“You talk about ruling,” I say, catching his wrist and wrenching it down. “All you did was open the gates so Veles could walk through. How long have you been their bitch?”
