Page 27 of Brutal Monster (Zhukov Bratva #2)
VANYA
" T hree years," I murmur, swirling the ice in my Moscow Mule.
The copper mug is cold against my palm, condensation beading on the metal like morning dew. Tulum's sun beats down relentlessly, but here under the shade of the palm fronds, with the breeze coming off the Caribbean, I'm comfortable. Perfect temperature. Perfect view.
Diego Serpico lounges in the chair beside me, designer sunglasses hiding his eyes, but not the slight smile that plays at the corners of his mouth. The scar along his jawline—a memento from our first meeting—catches the light when he turns to follow my gaze.
"Three years," he agrees, raising his glass in a silent toast. "From bullets to beach vacations. Life is strange, my friend."
I nod, my attention drawn back to the infinity pool stretching before us. The water is impossibly blue, seeming to merge with the ocean beyond, creating the illusion that the edge drops off into eternity. But my focus isn't on the architectural marvel.
It's on them.
Inez stands waist-deep in the water, her hair slicked back, droplets glistening on her shoulders.
She's laughing—a sound I once thought I'd never hear—as she holds our daughter's hands.
Natalia, two years old and fearless, kicks her pudgy legs, water wings keeping her afloat as she squeals with delight.
Beside them, Camila Castro guides her son, Dario, through the water. The toddler, three months older than Natalia, splashes with enthusiasm, sending water into his mother's face. Camila pretends to be shocked, which makes her son laugh even harder.
The Castros and Serpicos. Once our bitter enemies, now our closest allies. Family, even.
"Your wife looks happy," Diego observes, taking a sip of his drink.
"She is." I can't keep the pride from my voice. "The merger with the Castros doubled our territory and eliminated our most dangerous rival. The European pipeline is secure."
Diego chuckles. "Always the businessman, Vanya. I meant she looks happy as a mother."
I feel my expression soften as I watch Inez spin Natalia in a gentle circle, the child's delighted giggles carrying across the water.
"That too," I admit. "Though Inez still runs the cartel with an iron fist."
"As she should." Diego raises his glass again. "To our wives—more dangerous than we are."
I clink my mug against his. "A fact I'm reminded of daily."
We fall into comfortable silence, two men who once would have killed each other without hesitation, now sharing a peaceful afternoon.
Diego's organization handles our East Coast distribution, a partnership that has made both families wealthier than we could have imagined.
The old rivalries seem distant now, like stories from another life.
In the pool, Camila says something that makes Inez laugh again. She shifts Natalia to one arm and uses the other to splash water at him, carefully avoiding the children. Dario claps his hands, clearly enjoying the adults' play.
"They've become close," Diego remarks, following my gaze.
"They have." I take another sip of my drink, the ginger and lime sharp on my tongue. "Camila has been good for her. She needed a friend who understands the weight she carries."
What I don't say is how much it means to me to see Inez find trust outside our marriage. For years, it was just us against the world—isolated in our fortress of power. Now, we have this: family vacations, children's laughter, friends who understand our complicated lives.
"And you?" Diego turns those shrewd eyes on me. "Has fatherhood softened the great Vanya Zhukov?"
I consider the question, watching my daughter's small arms reach for her mother's face, tiny fingers patting Inez's cheeks with affection.
"Not softened," I say finally. "Focused. Everything I do now has a purpose beyond power or survival."
Diego nods, understanding in his eyes. His own son, older at seven, plays further down the beach with his nanny, building elaborate sandcastles that the tide will soon reclaim.
"It changes you," he agrees. "Gives you something to lose."
The words hang between us, weighted with shared understanding. In our world, having something to lose is both weakness and strength—a vulnerability that can be exploited, but also a reason to fight harder, to be smarter, and build alliances that once seemed impossible.
Like the one between the Bravos and the Castros. Like the one between the Serpicos and the Zhukovs.
A splash draws our attention back to the pool. Camila has lifted Dario onto her shoulders, the boy king of all he surveys, while Natalia reaches up with obvious envy, wanting the same vantage point.
Inez catches my eye across the distance and inclines her head slightly—a question. I set my drink down and rise from my chair, removing my shirt as I walk to the pool's edge. The heat of the stone tiles burns pleasantly against my feet as I step down into the cool water.
"Papá!" Natalia's face lights up as I approach, her arms reaching for me.
I take her from Inez, settling my daughter on my shoulders as she grips my hair with surprising strength.
Diego follows suit, placing his young son on his shoulders.
Natalia and Dario exchange serious looks from their matching perches, some secret communication passing between them that only children understand.
"Careful with that shoulder," Inez murmurs, her hand brushing over the scar tissue where the Romero bullet tore through me three years ago. The wound has long since healed, but she still worries.
"It's fine," I assure her, catching her hand and pressing a kiss to her palm. "Perfect day for swimming."
Diego grins, bouncing slightly to make Dario giggle. "The children are natural water babies. Future Olympic swimmers, perhaps?"
"Or pirates," Inez suggests with a smirk. "They already know how to command ships."
We laugh, the sound carrying across the water. On the deck, I notice Camila has joined my wife, their heads bent close in conversation. They look up at our laughter, raising their glasses in acknowledgment.
"Hard to believe where we were three years ago," Diego says, voicing what we're all thinking. "When Juan died?—"
"We thought it was the beginning of war," Inez finishes, her expression momentarily shadowed by the memory. "Instead, it was the beginning of peace."
"Relative peace," I correct, thinking of the skirmish last month at the Guatemalan border. Some threats never entirely disappear.
"Peace enough," Diego says firmly, his eyes moving between his son and my daughter. "For them."
Natalia pats my head imperiously. "Down, Papa! Swim!"
I oblige, lifting her from my shoulders and holding her horizontally in the water, letting her kick and splash while I keep a firm grip on her small body. Dario immediately demands the same from Digeo, not to be outdone.
As the children play, Inez returns to the water, moving closer to me, her body warm against mine. "Happy?" she asks quietly.
I look at our daughter, her face alight with joy, then at Inez—the woman who has been my partner in both blood and love for more than three years now. The woman who trusted me with her empire, her body, her heart.
"Yes," I answer simply, because with her, I don't need more words.
Her smile is quick and fierce, like everything about her. "Good. Because Camila just told me about a potential problem with our Vancouver route."
Of course. Even in paradise, business follows us. "How serious?"
"Nothing we can't handle," she says, her eyes tracking Natalia's movements in the water. "We'll discuss it later. For now?—"
"For now, we're on vacation," I finish, pulling her closer with my free arm.
She relaxes against me, a rare public display of affection. Three years ago, I would never have imagined this moment—standing in a pool in Mexico with our child, the leaders of three powerful families gathered peacefully around us, the weight of empire balanced perfectly between us.
"Mamá! Look!" Natalia has discovered that she can blow bubbles in the water, demonstrating her skill with enthusiastic splashing.
Inez claps, genuine delight on her face. "Wonderful, mija ! Show Papá too!"
I turn my full attention to my daughter, pushing aside thoughts of Vancouver and business threats. Tonight, after the children are asleep, Inez and I will strategize, plan, and protect what we've built. We'll call in favors, deploy our forces, and ensure our empire remains secure.
But now, in this moment, I am simply a father watching his daughter learn to swim, with his wife by his side and allies—friends—around them. A different kind of power. A different kind of peace.
"Again, Papá! Again!" Natalia demands, and I spin her through the water, her laughter the sweetest sound I've ever known.
Diego raises his glass from the deck, catching my eye with a knowing smile.
We've both traveled long roads to reach this place—roads paved with blood and betrayal and hard choices.
Neither of us is a good man, not by any traditional measure.
But perhaps we've built something good, something that might outlast us.
As the Caribbean sun begins its slow descent toward the horizon, casting golden light across the water, I hold my daughter close and watch my wife laugh with Camila. I think of the empires we've built, the alliances we've forged, the enemies we've vanquished.
And for now, just for this moment, it is enough.
THE END