Page 92 of In Her Blood
Artem’s lightly amused expression vanished and he tipped his head in a tight nod. “Yeah.”
Kirill’s expression also tightened, but with more of a grief-stricken edge. He had worked closely with several of the men Grigoriy’s ambush had left slaughtered—and were it not for his injuries, he might have been among them. “It’s still a little hard to swallow.”
“Forgive me, ma’am,” Artem said, “but Grigoriyisdead, yes? We’re sure about that?”
Evelina nodded. “Grigoriy is dead. His second is dead. A good portion of his crew is dead.” She paused just for a moment. “Pavel is dead.” Both men’s eyes widened, but she wasn’t surprised. She hadn’t spread that story. “He stole the emergency funds from the family safe during the fire and was found trying to flee the city. He confessed to knowing he was leaving me to die at Grigoriy’s hands that day. And he also confessed to being the one who’d ransacked my personal suite while I was away.” She held Artem’s stunned stare. “I am sorry you didn’t get to partake in that, but for what it’s worth, he suffered before he died.”
Artem’s hands fisted over his knees, his jaw tightened, and he blew out a breath. “If he suffered enough for you, then he suffered enough for me.” He grabbed the mug Otto had set in front of him and gulped probably half the beverage down.
Evelina had a fleeting moment of wondering if she should have offered them vodka. But she wanted everyone stone-cold sober for this, and they were still on pain meds, so she dismissed the idea. She’d invite them for drinks at a later time.
When Artem had composed himself, she continued, “For confirmation’s sake, I will reiterate that Pyotr is also dead. And Grisha Morozov, along with a good number of Morozov men, are now dead. Grisha put up a fight, as you can imagine, and he did not have the pleasure of a quick bullet to the head.”
Otto huffed quietly.
“Morozov scum,” Kirill muttered.
“Incidentally,” Evelina said, fighting a smile, “the distillery burned to the studs Monday night. You may have seen the news report. They’ll eventually find some human remains anda fair amount of heavy artillery, but nothing that truly links back tous.”
Both men blinked at her and Artem leaned back into the corner of the sofa, pulling his mug to his chest, as if he were thinking.
Kirill sat forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Apologies for the question,” he said, “but didn’t Pyotr inherit the distillery?” His gaze flicked briefly between her and Otto, but ultimately returned to hers. “And with it having belonged to Pakhan Mikhail before him, won’t that alone risk the carnage linking back to the Nikolaev clan?”
Evelina let herself smile at the perfect opportunity. “I’m sureIwill be questioned, due to the name on my birth certificate, but that’s a separate issue. The question you asked, Kirill, brings me to why I wanted to speak with you both so urgently.” She looked between them for emphasis. “In case the slew of recent events hasn’t made this blatantly obvious, the Nikolaev Bratva is dead.”
Kirill sat back, the earlier color draining from his face.
Artem lowered his coffee.
Evelina continued. “I am starting anew, rebuilding from the ground up, and I’m going to build something stronger. Something better. We’ll be small at first, by necessity, but Iouri has agreed to stand with me as my advisor and liaison—to offer me his local connections—and as long as we are diligent, we can grow quickly.” She held out her hand toward the room, palm up, angled like an invitation. “I want both of you on board with foundation of the Voronin Bratva.”
Romeo’s words from Tuesday morning echoed through her again.“Believe it or not, none of this works without trust. Sure, there’re other things. We need the masses to fear us so bad they tremble at the sound of our names, all that shit. But the first thing you need is a tight-knit foundation of people you cantrust, no hesitation. Because without that, sooner or later, it all falls apart.”
It had sounded so simple as soon as he said the words. And so much had made sense.
Her father’s bratva had been held together by old-fashioned stubbornness, fear, and greed, all blended into one living thing. With her father out of the way, the foundation he’d held intact for so long had cracked irreparably.
If she was going to build better, she was going to start by pulling together a core unit that functioned well without threats and subterfuge. She believed in her gut she could accomplish that with these men, but it wouldn’t work if she had to force them.
“Voronin…?” Kirill finally repeated.
Evelina felt her smile twist just a little. “Oh, did I leave that out?” She reached over and Otto took her hand as if they’d rehearsed the move. “Otto and I are getting married. We’re thinking early summer.” She wanted to do it as soon as possible, but she also didn’t want to do it in such a rush that their only memory was some off-center, blurry, courthouse photo of her in a tunic and leggings. Even if Otto said he loved those outfits.
Artem started laughing.
Kirill choked. “Didyou?” He leapt to his feet as if he’d suddenly forgotten the weight and formality of the conversation they’d been having, swinging all his attention to his supposed best friend. “What the hell? Since when did you even— I thought— Is this for real?”
Evelina couldn’t hold in her laughter, so she left it to Otto to answer.
Otto moved his grip to her nape. “The weekend wasn’tallbad. Calm down before you tear something.”
“The … weekend,” Kirill repeated, still clearly in shock.
Artem’s laughter turned into a full-tilt belly laugh. “Shit. It’s never a dull moment with you two, is it?” He wiped at his eyes shamelessly as he sucked in hard breaths. “I thought you were already a thing when we met, the way you were all over her. Did no one tell you bodyguards aren’t usually so handsy?”
Kirill snorted and finally dropped back into his chair. “My man’s been struggling foryears, he steals what he can.”
Evelina felt her face heat.
