Page 135 of Immaculate Corruption (Romanoff Bratva)

It’s unlocked, I notice. And actually, partially ajar as well.

I frown. Tentatively, I push it inwards. The house is spookily silent. I take one cautious step inside.

Where are the guards? Where are the maids? The Romanoff Mansion is never truly empty.

Except for now, it seems.

A strange kind of adrenaline starts to surge through my veins. I grab Vera’s upper arm and pull her along with me.

“Don’t touch me,” she snaps, but I ignore her. We slink inside along the walls of the hallway. Not a single thing moves or makes a noise.

We round a corner… and that’s when I see that the door to the ballroom is open. A triangle of light spills out into the corridor.

Somewhere deep in my bones, I know what’s waiting for us in there. But I go forwards anyway. It’s fate or stupidity or maybe a little of both—I don’t know for certain. All I know is that I’m being called there. Like my whole life has been building to this moment. I don’t have a choice, not really.

I press a single finger to the ballroom sdoor and push it. It swings inward on silent hinges. I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised when I take one step into the only place my parents ever loved each other…

And find myself staring right down the barrel of a gun.

“Hello, Dima,” Ilyasov growls. “Thought I might find you here.”

I tilt my head in greeting. “I had the same thought,” I say. “Brotherly intuition, I guess.”

Vera rushes over to her husband’s side. “Oh my God, Ilya!” She throws her arms around her husband and he pats her back, his eyes still on me. “I had the babies,” she sobs. “The twins. But he took them. I don’t know where they went.”

Ilyasov’s expression sharpens. “Where are they, Dima?”

“At the hospital being seen by a doctor. They’ll be fine.”

Vera is full-on sobbing now, clinging to Ilyasov like he’s the only thing keeping her upright. I can’t help noticing that Ilyasov doesn’t seem nearly as emotional.

“I didn’t think you had it in you, brother,” he rumbles.

“I don’t,” I say bluntly. “I was coming here to call you and tell you where to find her. You just happened to beat me here.”

“Couldn’t stomach it? Did your conscience get in the way again?”

I nod. “Something like that.”

Vera’s legs are sagging underneath her. She’s losing strength—not such a huge surprise after everything she’s been through. But Ilyasov doesn’t seem to care.

“I hope you don’t think this satisfies the demands of the third Trial,” he scoffs. “You didn’t even get close to completing it.”

“I couldn’t agree more,” I say. “I failed.”

Ilyasov laughs cruelly. “Then what are you going to do now, oh brother of mine?”

I shrug. “The only thing I can do: quit.”

Finally, it seems I’ve shocked Ilyasov. His eyes go wide and he stares at me as though trying to read my thoughts. He thinks there is a trick hidden in my words, but there isn’t. Not this time.

I’m done.

Arya was right.

This fight for power and control has corrupted me. It’s turned me into a man like Jorik, like my brother, like my father. I’d rather die a failure and also a good man than to live with the power of the Bratva and yet not be able to look myself in the mirror.

I’d rather be a man Arya can be proud of in death than a monster she won’t have in her life.

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