Page 74 of Shattered Altar (Makarova Bratva Duet)

“Didn’t forget,” Demyan says irritably. “I was just building up to it. Proudest fucking moment of my life. Now, you’ve robbed me of the joy of dropping that bomb. Bastard.”

“I’m sure you’ll find it in your heart to forgive me.”

“Jesus Christ,” Olivia mutters. “You guys are serious.”

“Why would we joke about shit like that?” Demyan asks.

“You really killed your father?”

“He had it coming.”

“But… he was your father.”

“He killed my mother,” Demyan says. “What was I supposed to do, put him in timeout?”

“You should… shit, I don’t know, get the cops involved!” Olivia exclaims, flummoxed. “Have him arrested and put on trial. He would have gone to jail.”

“Jail?” Demyan scoffs. “Fuck that. I’ve done time. It ain’t no punishment if you know how the inside works.”

Olivia sits back against the seat and turns to me. “Have you done time?”

I snort with laughter. “I was born the son of the most powerful fucking don on the West coast.”

“Which means…?”

“Which means there isn’t a cop, attorney, or judge alive who would dare try to put me behind bars.”

“So you think you’re above the law?”

“Miles above.”

She shrugs. “I wouldn’t count on it.”

I raise my eyebrows. “Is that a challenge?”

“It’s a promise. If you kill me, my brother will make sure you pay for it.”

“I wouldn’t kill you,” I say.

She looks at me with a curious expression, probably thinking I’ve softened towards her after last night.

I decide to disabuse her of that notion immediately.

“Mostly because you’re not important enough to kill.”

She frowns. “Gee, thanks. I feel so safe now.”

She skulks back to her seat and buckles in. Seconds later, her knee starts bouncing again.

“You’ll have to look a little more like the terrified prisoner when we get there,” I tell her. “I don’t want your brother thinking I’ve been nice to you.”

She snorts. “No one would ever accuse you of being nice.”

“I’m glad my reputation is intact.”

I don’t turn around, but I can feel her eyes attempting to bore a hole in the back of my head. “You’re an asshole. Are you aware of that part of your reputation?”

“You didn’t think so last night.”

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