Page 20 of Immaculate Corruption (Romanoff Bratva)

Then I drop her hand and break the eye contact.

Arya stands in place, lingering for one long moment. Then she sighs and walks away.

I tell myself I’m not going to look at her as she goes. Not even one fucking peek. But at the last second, just before she pushes through the doors of the casino, I can’t help glancing.

And it’s a fucking vision.

Her in that metallic dress. Gleaming under the lights. Curves like sin. A stride like a goddess. Full of fear and fire and fury.

That’s the mother of my child.

What the fuck am I going to do with her?

* * *

Time passes slowly while I wait. A million different scenarios flash through my head. Each one crazier than the last.

Arya’s been caught. She’s in a basement room right now, getting tortured for information.

Arya’s betrayed me. She’s in Giorgio’s office, telling him everything, and he’s calling an army of guards to come slaughter me right here.

Arya’s abandoned me. She’s shacked up with some high roller, sucking his cock and moaning for him the way she once moaned for me.

What does it mean that it’s that very last image that hurts the most?

I growl wordlessly and flip on the radio. Anything for some distraction from these intrusive fucking thoughts.

It’s a true crime podcast. The story of some suburbanmudakhunting down the men who killed his wife and son.

By the end of it, I’m sick to my stomach.

Motherfuckers came into this man’s home and slaughtered his family in cold blood. Like any good man should, he went after the bastards. Stalked their trail. Hunted them down.

And when he finally had them in his sights, did he avenge the deaths they caused? Did he unleash holy fucking hell on the people who dared touch what’s his?

No.

He calls the cops. Reports them for drug smuggling or some bullshit like that.

And then heleaves.

As if his job is done.

In the final interview, he talks about showing the killers mercy. “They needed to be taught what mercy is,” he says.

“Ootebya nyetu peeski,” I snarl at the radio.You have no fucking dick.

His wife and son didn’t get any mercy. Why should the motherfuckers who killed them?

It’s supposed to be some grand morality tale. A story of taking the high road. I can’t relate in the slightest.

When Taras Kreshnik touched what’s mine, I put a bullet in his goddamn skull. As soon as I catch up to Erik Arnaud, I’m going to do the same.

Same for Zotov. Same for Fyodor.

Everyone’s who’s ever betrayed me can expect nothing but pain in return. Not mercy. Never any fucking mercy.

Except for Arya. She’s the only one who’s ever seen what Dima Romanoff’s mercy can look like.

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