Page 104 of Unforgiving Saint (Starukhin Bratva)

“Will this ever be truly over, Zakhar Sergeyevich?” I ask, gripping the steering wheel tightly.

“You know as well as I do,” he answers, his dark eyes fixed on the road ahead. “It’s never settled until the other person is dead.”

I nod, knowing that he’s speaking from experience. I can’t deny the allure of vengeance. And it’s a desire that never seems to end. As we drive, I realize we’re hunting Gunsyn the same way that Gunsyn and the other brigadiers once hunted Zakhar.

I try to think of better things. My thoughts drift to nights spent tangled in the sheets with Eden, those brief moments where everything else faded away.

But if Gunsyn lives, I’ll have to look over my shoulder. He kidnapped Eden twice, and it could happen again if I let him run free. But the leads are gone, and it looks like we’ve won for the moment. I’ve crushed Gunsyn’s rebellion, but some serpents regenerate even after losing their heads.

Zakhar is right.

It won’t be settled until Gunsyn is dead.

“Remember,”Zakhar says, his voice steady. “We’re only talking.”

We turn off the Thruway and begin our approach to Sorokin’s estate. The castle comes into view before we pass through the iron gates. After Gunsyn’s ill-fated attack, trespassing is not tolerated. At the gatehouse, we are made to step out of the SUV and are patted down thoroughly. The SUV is then left at the gate, while a different car takes us deeper inside.

We’re shown in without much fanfare and taken immediately to the dining room, and as we walk, I look around for Eden. My gaze shifts to the top of the stairs, hoping to see her. Even a glimpse. But if I see Eden, I risk doing something stupid and rash. I have to be cautious. So, I shove my anger down my throat, swallow it, and force it to stay in my gut. She’s carrying my baby, and I will repeat those words to myself whenever my anger threatens to appear.

Sorokin, Popov, and Dmitri are waiting in the dining room, and their expressions are as grim as the atmosphere. Their judgment of me is already decided as I sit down.

“Even with Gunsyn out of power,” Sorokin begins without preamble, “you’ve proven yourself distracted and unable to function. You must cut all ties with Eden Budanov and the Lanzzare Mafia.”

The words twist my gut as if the old man is twisting a knife. “I did what was necessary to protect the Bratva. I ended a feud that has lasted for generations, and I rooted out three traitors who destroyed my family.”

“You used Lanzzare men to kill men within your own Bratva,” Dmitri interjects. “A clean break from the Lanzzare will signal to the Bratvas that you can be trusted again.”

“I had no choice,” I reply coldly, amazed by their reluctance to admit the position they helped put me in.

“You had a choice,” replies Dmitri. “And you chose to trust outsiders over your own.” He eyes Zakhar coldly.

“What will happen to Eden?” I demand. “She has nothing to do with this.” I snap.

“It doesn’t concern you, Nikolai Gennadyevich,” replies Popov.

“I’ll give up the Bratva for her and retire.”

“Retire?” Popov scoffs, shaking his head. “Manhattan is the jewel in the hilt of the sword, remember? Even if you want to retire,wewill not allow it. Give up the Starukhin Bratva, and we go to war to seize the remains. And you may not live to see the consequences of such an action.”

I look away, convinced I have no more choices.

Sorokin’s gaze pierces me as he speaks. “Recite the oath, Nikolai Gennadyevich.”

I stand, and my body trembles with anger, not at those who judge me but at myself. I knew what would happen if I went to the Lanzzare, but I went against my instincts anyway.

I hold my head up high and say each word with emphasis.

“You care for no one but the Bratva, and you shall love none other than the Bratva.”

“You loveno onebut the Bratva,” Sorokin repeats. “We will back you while you rebuild, but no more distractions. Do you understand?”

I process their unspoken ultimatum. I cannot be allowed to have Eden. Her smile, her warmth, her touch, all of it will fade to nothing but memories. She’s my light in the shadows. But my selfishness has undone us.

I clench my teeth. “I understand.”

Sorokin’s gaze penetrates as he delivers the final blow. “Swear, Nikolai Gennadyevich, that you will never see Eden again.”

I steal a glance over at a stoic Zakhar, whose life has been a lesson in pain and isolation. The thought of enduring the same fate terrifies me, but I swallow hard and do what I must for all our sakes.

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