Page 68 of Til Death Do Us Part (Kornilov Bratva Duet 2)

I nod. “I agree.”

“Are you prepared to kill your own brother?”

My brother. The man who raped my wife. The man who broke into my properties multiple times to try and kidnap the boy I view as my own son. Of course I want him dead.

But killing him myself?

I’ve been talking about taking care of Fedor for weeks, but I’ve avoided the thought of actually killing my brother. Mostly because when I picture it, I see Fedor at five years old. Or eight. I see him with gangly limbs and acne. I see him young and excited and innocent. Or, as innocent as Fedor ever was. I see the sadness in his eyes when he confessed to me that he was the reason our parents died in a fire.

No matter how hard I try, I can’t picture myself killing him now.

“Of course I am,” I say sharply.

Seamus nods and pats my shoulder. “I sure hope so. Because it has to be you, Viktor. It can’t be anyone else.”

I know he is right, but I wish he wasn’t.

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