Page 66
Story: The Russian Retribution
But trafficking children? I can’t wrap my head around how Sergey thought that was a good idea. Surely, there would have been pushback from his own men if not for the other families?Are we all truly so blinded by greed that there was no one around to stop this from happening? No one except Anastasia.
I can get behind her reasoning. Sergey shouldn’t have been allowed to continue with such a diabolical plan.
But killing him?
Nausea curls hotly in my gut as I stare down at my empty glass, then my eyes close.
Anastasia should have brought her proof forward and presented it to the heads of the other top families, then a vote would have been cast about how to move forward. It’s one thing to unseat aPakhan. That’s happened before when choices were detrimental to the survival of a family. But outright killing him?
That’s bad.
It’s like killing a king.
To some, there’s absolutely no excuse, regardless of how evil that person is. And if anyone were ever to find out…
Dragging my hands down my face, I groan softly.
To make matters worse, Anastasia is pregnant. With my baby.
Everything about her now is a rule break. Murdering thePakhan, taking his place, and then having a baby with a lowly security guard instead of the son of some other wealthy, powerful Russian family. So much is stacking against her.
What the hell am I supposed to do? The look on her face when I told her the truth haunts me every time I close my eyes. I’d hoped that everything I had done for her these past months would stand out and show her that, despite my origins, I did care for her.
I see now that instead, my truth called into question every drop of loyalty I’ve ever shown her.
She hates me. So does Viktor.
How did I let this happen?
My thoughts jumble together, tripping over one another until I almost can’t breathe. Then the clink of a glass catches my attention. I drop my hands to face Hazel, the owner of The Black Ox, as she refills my glass.
“You look like you need it,” she says, topping me off.
“I think I need the whole bottle,” I groan. “Thanks.”
“You wanna talk about it?” Hazel leans against the bar and squints slightly as she eyes me. “You know the rules. Nothing that happens out there comes in here. And nothing said in here goes out there.”
I tilt my head and sigh deeply, deflating like a paper bag. “I don’t have a clue where to start.”
“Start at the beginning.” She pushes away from the bar and sets the bottle back down on the rack behind her. “Trust me, I’ve heard it all. Ain’t nothing you can say that will shock me.”
“Alright.” Challenge accepted.
I tell her everything. From my rough upbringing, the death of my parents, the kidnap and murder of my sister, and how Viktor was there for me through it all. He supported my time in the army and gave me a home and love beyond what I deserved.
Then I tell her about Anastasia and Viktor’s orders, and how those orders blurred when my feelings for Anastasia surfaced. I detail how my life became about her and making her smile,keeping her safe and providing all the stress relief she required. Then I tell her about the pregnancy and remain vague on the details of Anastasia’s confession.
By the time I’m finished, I’m parched and Hazel is kind enough to pour me another drink.
“You’re screwed.” She snorts.
“I know.” Lifting the glass, I take a sip. “I have no fucking clue what to do.”
“Yes, you do,” she replies instantly.
“What?”
“You know what you have to do. In fact, I’d go as far as to say that you’re already doing it.”
I can get behind her reasoning. Sergey shouldn’t have been allowed to continue with such a diabolical plan.
But killing him?
Nausea curls hotly in my gut as I stare down at my empty glass, then my eyes close.
Anastasia should have brought her proof forward and presented it to the heads of the other top families, then a vote would have been cast about how to move forward. It’s one thing to unseat aPakhan. That’s happened before when choices were detrimental to the survival of a family. But outright killing him?
That’s bad.
It’s like killing a king.
To some, there’s absolutely no excuse, regardless of how evil that person is. And if anyone were ever to find out…
Dragging my hands down my face, I groan softly.
To make matters worse, Anastasia is pregnant. With my baby.
Everything about her now is a rule break. Murdering thePakhan, taking his place, and then having a baby with a lowly security guard instead of the son of some other wealthy, powerful Russian family. So much is stacking against her.
What the hell am I supposed to do? The look on her face when I told her the truth haunts me every time I close my eyes. I’d hoped that everything I had done for her these past months would stand out and show her that, despite my origins, I did care for her.
I see now that instead, my truth called into question every drop of loyalty I’ve ever shown her.
She hates me. So does Viktor.
How did I let this happen?
My thoughts jumble together, tripping over one another until I almost can’t breathe. Then the clink of a glass catches my attention. I drop my hands to face Hazel, the owner of The Black Ox, as she refills my glass.
“You look like you need it,” she says, topping me off.
“I think I need the whole bottle,” I groan. “Thanks.”
“You wanna talk about it?” Hazel leans against the bar and squints slightly as she eyes me. “You know the rules. Nothing that happens out there comes in here. And nothing said in here goes out there.”
I tilt my head and sigh deeply, deflating like a paper bag. “I don’t have a clue where to start.”
“Start at the beginning.” She pushes away from the bar and sets the bottle back down on the rack behind her. “Trust me, I’ve heard it all. Ain’t nothing you can say that will shock me.”
“Alright.” Challenge accepted.
I tell her everything. From my rough upbringing, the death of my parents, the kidnap and murder of my sister, and how Viktor was there for me through it all. He supported my time in the army and gave me a home and love beyond what I deserved.
Then I tell her about Anastasia and Viktor’s orders, and how those orders blurred when my feelings for Anastasia surfaced. I detail how my life became about her and making her smile,keeping her safe and providing all the stress relief she required. Then I tell her about the pregnancy and remain vague on the details of Anastasia’s confession.
By the time I’m finished, I’m parched and Hazel is kind enough to pour me another drink.
“You’re screwed.” She snorts.
“I know.” Lifting the glass, I take a sip. “I have no fucking clue what to do.”
“Yes, you do,” she replies instantly.
“What?”
“You know what you have to do. In fact, I’d go as far as to say that you’re already doing it.”
Table of Contents
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