Page 26 of Marked (Russian Sinners 1)

“Fuck.” That wasn’t good. It would tempt a lot of people to go after her. “What organization?”

“She’s marked by Boris and his men,” Nikolai confirmed what I suspected. “I haven’t found evidence of her being captive before… yet. Although there are some rumors about a woman and child that Boris tortured.”

Could Anastasia be somehow connected to that? But that story would have been too big for her father to hide. Her connection to the governor and senator would have had that blasted all over the news.

“Her family connection to an attorney, governor, and senator wouldn’t have allowed for it to be kept out of the news,” I muttered to myself.

“I thought the same,” he agreed. “I couldn’t get a timeline on when that supposed rumor happened but if it happened just before Boris was put away, it couldn’t be Anastasia. Her file stated her mother passed away fifteen years ago.”

I thought back trying to remember where we were fifteen years ago. It was when we first started traveling back and forth between the United States and Russia. I was the main contact for all the U.S. and European businesses, so we were all over the place. We were slowly taking over the mafia empire under Boris’ nose and he didn’t even see it.

Nikolai got his scar around that time. Our eyes met and I knew the same memory went through Nikolai’s mind too. I could still taste the rage I felt back then. The drive for revenge and thirst for blood to make them pay. Each person that witnessed Nikolai’s branding or was in that room, present when it happened, was hunted and killed by me and my brothers. Nobody touched my family and got away with it.

It was about the time we started slowly withdrawing from Boris’ oganization so we didn’t participate in his fucking and sick games. We were the Russian Sinners but even we had limits on what was right and what was wrong. And torturing innocents that had no connections to our world was a hard no for us.

Something wasn’t adding up. We had to find out right away what else we needed to be prepared for. If Anastasia was marked, the people hunting her would continue coming. We’d have to move constantly.

I stared back at the woman next to me. She looked frail. The urge to protect her and make her mine intensified with each minute I spent with her. What was it about her that made me so focused on her? When she shook in her sleep and started screaming, it was like someone tore at my chest. There was so much fear in her scream.

“We could always ask her father,” Nikolai offered. It would make sense but her old man didn’t trust us and we didn’t trust him. As if he was reading my mind, he commented, “He must trust us enough to keep his daughter safe.”

He had a point there. Anastasia Manciatti was her father’s most prized and most valuable family member. I was starting to think her old man was a lot more invested into this partnership with us than he initially led on.

I was aware of Nikolai’s pensive gaze on me, but I ignored him. We’ve known each other long enough to realize there was no hiding ourselves from each other.

A strand of hair was stuck to her damp forehead and I gently moved it off. The warmth spread through my fingers and right to my heart whenever we touched, melting the block of ice it had become over the years.

I shouldn’t let her impact me like this. I shouldn’t touch her. A man with sins as mine should not be touching this woman, even less sleeping in the same bed with her. I didn’t deserve to be in the same room as her.

“Do you remember the witch?” Nikolai’s words had me lifting my head.

“What witch?”

“The one that said a woman will be your undoing and bring you to your knees,” he replied. “You have found her.”

I didn’t believe a word that crazy witch said all those years ago. Besides every word she uttered was a general statement. A woman has been man’s undoing all throughout history. There was nothing new there. She couldn’t find one smart thing to say so she resorted back to a general statement.

“Give me your palm, young man,” the witch had piercing dark eyes.

“I’m not interested.” This was such bullshit. I was here to kill men, not to have my destiny read. I already knew what my destiny was… I was a killer and a sinner.

The sun was slowly setting down the St. Basil’s Cathedral, most of the Red Square empty. It was a sign that shit was going down. No matter what, Russians always seemed to be able to sense when trouble was coming and would clear out. It was as if the walls whispered warnings to women, children, and honest hard-working men around here.

“C’mon, brother,” Sergei urged. “What can it hurt?”

I loved my brother, but sometimes, he just needed to keep his mouth shut and stay focused on the task at hand. This day was going shitty as it was. Boris and Vlad were making a deal with the Lebanese organized crime head tomorrow. I intended to end that attempted negotiation. Fuck if I would be connected to human trafficking, with the Lebaniese, Italians, or anyone for that matter. If they wanted to traffic criminals, whatever. I wouldn’t concern myself but I wouldn’t allow them to traffic women and children. And those fuckers were doing exactly that.

So the plan was to kill those fucking assholes tonight, before they could reach the agreement spot tomorrow at the crack of dawn.

“Do it, Dimitry,” Sergei edged on, fascinated with palm reading for whatever damn reason. I wished he kept his fascination for tomorrow.

“Fuck, Sergei,” I snapped at my youngest brother. Nikolai’s hand came to my shoulder and it was enough to make me see reason. Sergei was still young, I scolded myself.

I immediately calmed myself, seeing Sergei’s frown. He was still young, turned only eighteen yesterday in fact.

“Fine,” I muttered, resigned, and Sergei’s face instantly lit up.

I glanced around to ensure there was no immediate threat.

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