Page 34 of Betrayal and Vows (Bratva Vows #2)

Anton

A n hour later, Dmitri arrives.

His hair is disheveled, his jacket torn at the shoulder, and there's dried blood on his knuckles.

"Well, that was fun," he announces, grinning despite the obvious signs of violence.

"Nothing like a high-speed chase through Moscow traffic to get the blood pumping."

I holster my weapon, relief flooding through me at the sight of my oldest friend alive and relatively intact. "How many?"

"Four cars. Lost them somewhere near Red Square." He glances around the small apartment, taking in Elena's bruised face and Lena's tear-stained cheeks. "I see the family reunion went well."

"Lenoid was here," I say grimly.

"Ah. The loving father routine?" Dmitri pulls out a cigarette and lights it, ignoring Elena's disapproving look. "Let me guess—he offered to trade Lena for his pathetic life."

"Something like that."

"And you told him to go fuck himself."

"In so many words."

Dmitri nods approvingly, then his expression grows serious. "Which brings me to why I'm here. I have a message from Vadim."

The temperature in the room seems to drop ten degrees. Lena's hand finds mine, gripping tight.

"What kind of message?" Elena asks quietly.

Dmitri takes a long drag from his cigarette, exhaling slowly. "He wants to meet. Tomorrow night. The old warehouse district. Just him and Anton."

"No," Lena says immediately, her voice sharp with panic. "Absolutely not."

I feel the familiar calm settle over me—the cold clarity that comes before violence. "What else did he say?"

"That he has something that belongs to you. And that if you don't come alone, he'll make sure you never see it again." Dmitri's eyes meet mine. "He also said to tell you that thirty years is long enough to wait for a proper reunion."

Lena is shaking her head frantically. "It's a trap, Anton. Obviously, it's a trap. He'll have fifty men there. You'll be walking into a slaughter."

"Of course it's a trap," I agree. "But it's also the only chance I'll get to finish this."

"You can't be serious." She turns to face me fully, tears streaming down her face. "This is suicide. This is exactly what he wants—you walking right into his hands."

"He's right," Elena says quietly. "Vadim doesn't make deals. He doesn't negotiate. If he wants to meet, it's because he's planning something."

I look at the three faces staring at me—Dmitri resigned but supportive, Elena worried but understanding, and Lena desperate and terrified. My heart clenches at the fear in her eyes.

"This is what I've been preparing for my entire life," I say quietly. "Every mission, every kill, every moment I've spent in Vadim's organization has led to this. I know him better than anyone. I know his patterns, his weaknesses, his blind spots."

"And he knows yours," Lena argues, her voice breaking. "He knows exactly how to hurt you now. He knows about me."

"Which is why I have to end this." I cup her face in my hands, memorizing every detail. "As long as he's alive, you'll never be safe. We'll spend the rest of our lives running, looking over our shoulders, waiting for him to find us."

"Then we'll run," she says desperately. "I don't care. We'll disappear completely. Change our faces, our names, everything."

"And live like ghosts? Never able to trust anyone, never able to have a real life?" I shake my head. "That's not living, solnyshko . That's just a different kind of death."

Dmitri crushes his cigarette under his heel. "I'm going with you."

"No."

"Don't be an idiot, Anton. You'll need backup."

"I need you here," I say firmly, glancing at Lena and Elena. "Someone has to protect them if this goes wrong."

"When this goes wrong," Lena corrects bitterly.

The certainty in her voice cuts deep, but I can't argue with it. We all know the odds. We all know what we're really talking about here.

“I have a place,” Elena says. “Lena and I will go there. Dmitri, you will stay with Anton.”

“Of course, I will,” Dmitri shrugs.

“I don’t want you unprotected,” I argue.

“I have men,” Elena says.

I don’t like it, but if I want a shot in hell of killing Vadim, I will need Dmitri.

Elena stands abruptly, moving to a small cabinet in the corner of the room. She pulls out an object wrapped in cloth and brings it to me.

"This was your mother's," she says, unwrapping it to reveal an ornate silver cross on a chain. "She was wearing it the night she died. I... I took it from her before the fire spread."

My throat closes as I stare at the cross. It's tarnished with age, the silver darkened, but I can make out delicate engravings along the edges. Russian Orthodox symbols that speak of faith and protection.

I remember her wearing it all the time.

"She would want you to have it," Elena continues, pressing it into my palm. "For luck."

After getting the women stowed away, Dmitri and I tried to come up with a plan.

There was no plan. We knew the game. We would be outnumbered. All we could do was take out the top—Vadim.

Mikhail.

I might take a hundred bullets, but I would kill them.

“Ready?” Dmitri asks.

“Nope.”

“Good, me either.”

Even before we step out of the car, I can smell it. Salt. Old blood. Fear. The place used to be part of a fish-processing line decades ago.

Now, it’s the grounds we and other families use to handle business.

I can’t count the number of bodies that have passed through this place. Some dead by my hand. Others, I just helped with the disposal.

It feels like this is the right place for this to happen.

Dmitri stands beside me as we approach the open door. He’s quiet for probably the first time in his life. Neither of us trusts this meeting, but I’ve stopped running. If Vadim wants war, he’ll have to look me in the eyes to start it.

Shocker.

Vadim isn’t alone.

Inside, shadows gather like vultures. Mikhail’s men line the walls. Vadim is already there, seated like a king on a folding chair, Mikhail grinning at his side. Vadim looks up—smiles.

“Anton,” he says, voice warm. Too warm. Like syrup poured over a blade. “You came. I had a feeling you would.”

I walk closer, boots echoing against the concrete floor. Dmitri flanks me.

“Of course I came. I want to look into your eyes when I kill your son. And then you.”

Vadim chuckles.

Mikhail reaches for his gun, but Vadim holds up a hand.

“It’s a sad thing, don’t you think?” Vadim says.

I pointedly look at Mikhail. “He is definitely a sad thing.”

“Fucker,” Mikhail hisses. “I’ll kill you.”

Once again, Vadim gestures, ordering him to shut up.

I see movement to the right. Natalia, Vadim’s wife, strolls across the cement floor stained with dark spots.

Blood.

She moves to stand on Vadim’s other side.

It’s the picture of power.

At least that’s the image they are trying to project.

“Did you really think I didn’t know who you were?” Vadim says, eyes locked on mine. “My firstborn. My mistake. My disappointment.”

I say nothing. It doesn’t matter anymore.

That might have come as a surprise if I hadn’t found the pictures in his safe.

But apparently, Natalia and Mikhail were not aware Vadim knew who I was. They sure as hell didn’t know who I truly was.

“I’m your firstborn,” Mikhail says.

“He is your son, not that bastard.” Natalia spits on the floor.

Vadim stands slowly. Both Natalia and Mikhail fall silent immediately.

"You will both shut your mouths," he says, his voice carrying absolute authority. "This is between me and my son."

The word “son” hangs in the air like a death sentence. Natalia's face goes pale as understanding dawns. Mikhail looks like he's been struck by lightning.

"That's impossible," Mikhail stammers. "I'm your heir. I'm your?—"

"Thirty years," he continues, still focused on me. "Thirty years I've watched you grow into exactly what I knew you could become. Strong. Ruthless. Everything Mikhail pretends to be."

I feel Dmitri tense beside me. This isn't going the way any of us expected.

"You tried to kill me," I say flatly.

"I tried to make you." His smile is cold, predatory. "Do you think it was an accident that you survived all these years? I could have you killed at any time. But I allowed you to live.”

My blood turns to ice. "What are you saying?"

"I needed you broken first. Remade. The boy who loved his mother, who cried for bedtime stories—that child was weak. But the man who crawled out of that training center?" He spreads his hands. "That man is my masterpiece."

The warehouse spins around me. Everything I thought I knew, everything I believed about my escape, my survival—it's all been orchestrated.

“You thought you could sneak back in, steal the girl from your brother, hide behind that name like a coward?”

I don’t flinch. But my jaw tightens.

That’s when the door slams open.

Lena stumbles in, dragged by two of Vadim’s men. Elena is behind her, wrists bound. Lena’s lip is split, her shirt torn, one shoe missing.

I lurch forward but Dmitri grabs my arm.

“They’re alive,” he says under his breath. “Hold.”

I want to kill everything in this room.

Vadim watches me closely. “You see? The woman you betrayed your family for. You should have left her to Mikhail. That was your chance. But no. You played pretend. To kill me, correct? That’s why you came to me.”

Lena meets my eyes. There’s blood on her lip, but she’s defiant.

“Lenoid gave them up,” Vadim says, amused.

And then Lenoid strolls in without a hair out of place.

I can’t decide if I want to kill Vadim, Mikhail or Lenoid first.

All three will die.

Vadim focuses on Lena. “You will marry Mikhail. Tonight.”

She laughs. “I’d rather slit my wrists.”

“Then we’ll help you do it,” Mikhail says.

I step forward. “Touch her, and I’ll peel the skin from your face.”

“Enough,” Vadim roars. His voice cracks across the warehouse.

He stares at me, trembling with fury. “You were my son. And you ran. Hid like a coward. And now, now you want to come back and take what should have been yours?”