Page 3 of Cruel Russian Monster (Safin Bratva #2)

“W-what are you doing here?” she asked shakily, stepping back.

“We have some unresolved business to discuss, don’t you think?” I asked, closing the distance.

She retreated further until her back hit the wall. I followed, standing mere inches from her. Her eyes were wide with fear.

As they should be, after everything she put me through.

“I don't understand. We don’t have unresolved issues,” her voice cracked. “Our relationship ended three years ago. I didn’t ghost you. I ended the relationship, and that’s that.”

My jaw ticked and my eyes narrowed.

“Then let’s discuss how you going MIA cost my family alliances, gained us enemies, and left our faction weaker.”

Just like that, her fear morphed into anger, like a switch had been flipped.

“I didn’t cause anything!” she snapped, her voice rising. “I was at the church on the day of the damn wedding! Lev was already married by then. So maybe you should stop blaming me and put the blame where it actually belongs.”

She continued, “Maybe if he hadn’t been so hasty, if he hadn’t betrayed Artyom by marrying someone else, the alliance would’ve held. And this rivalry didn’t have to explode the way it did.”

The fuck?

Her defiance hit harder than it should’ve. Not because she raised her voice, but because of the way she held her ground. Her eyes were locked on mine stubbornly, like she wasn’t afraid of who I was or what I could do.

She wasn’t always like this.

She used to be timid. Shy smiles and nervous laughter, always fearful of her brother, who would smack her and her siblings around.

Now I knew it had been Artyom all along. I hated that son of a bitch even more for putting his filthy hands on her.

But the woman standing in front of me wasn’t the girl I held in my arms. I had wanted nothing more than to hide her away from the cruel world around her in the six months we were together.

This woman broke rules, snuck into clinics, and put on disguises to storm the Bratva office of her enemies to build a relationship with her long-lost sister. She didn’t need a fucking shield anymore; she’d become her own.

And fuck me if the feelings that I had buried didn't try to surge to the surface like a fucking geyser under pressure.

She'd become everything I knew she would. Fierce. Confident. Unyielding.

And that glow up? It might just be the death of me.

But I couldn’t let her see how deeply she was affecting me.

I let out a dry, bitter laugh, the sound ricocheting off the walls like a warning shot.

“You’re right,” I said, voice flat and venom-laced. “It didn’t have to blow up the way it did.”

I stepped closer, our lips just a breath apart, and snarled. “But it did. Because you ran. You disappeared and left Lev hanging days before an arranged marriage. You forced his hand. Forced him to go looking for you, but instead he found Katya.”

I clenched my jaw so tightly that it hurt.

“I’m glad he didn’t end up with a woman like you, unreliable and disloyal. You couldn’t even follow through on something that would’ve united two families and kept blood off the streets.”

Vera laughed dryly. “I wasn't the one who backed out of the annulment, was I? So again, place the blame where it's due.”

My eyes bored into hers as she looked at me, smirking.

Was she…mocking me? I'd do anything to wipe that look off her face.

“You were selfish then, and you’re selfish now.

And you”—I took a breath, letting the words twist like a blade in her flesh—“you don’t deserve to be called a Bratva princess.

They understand their duty to their factions, their role in this world.

Your parents would turn in their graves if they saw the coward standing in front of me. ”

I watched her flinch.

Goal accomplished.

Her glare stayed, but her voice softened. And in the past, when it softened the way it had now, there was nothing I would deny Vera if she asked.

“Would you have been happy if Lev and I got married?” she asked, eyes searching mine.

I didn’t answer. I was barely able to hold back my response. Because the truth? I didn’t want her to marry Lev. But after the pain she caused, I’d die before giving her the satisfaction of hearing that from me.

Her lashes lowered briefly, and when she looked at me again, her eyes were misted, lashes trembling with unshed tears.

“When I found out I was marrying Lev, I panicked,” she said quietly. “I tried to make peace with it, but I couldn’t.”

A tear slid down her cheek.

I clenched my fists at my sides, forcing myself to stay rooted. My instinct was still to wipe it away. I hated seeing Vera cry. I always had.

“So…I ran. I went…I went to Delaware.”

I wanted to ask why. Wanted to ask if she stayed in our spot. But I didn't.

“All I could think about was…you,” she whispered.

My gaze darkened, but my heart skipped a beat.

Her fingers brushed mine lightly, as her eyes searched mine again, pleading for understanding. From me. From the man who once loved her.

Are you going to let some sob story and a few tears derail everything?

She betrayed you.

You’re weak if you believe her now.

But fuck me, because a part of me wanted to believe her. I wanted to pull her into my arms and kiss her for every minute I’d gone without tasting her.

But Vera made her bed, and now? She’d fucking lie in it.

I laughed, cruel and low. That charm that she used years ago? I crushed it under my feet. I wasn't going to fall for it, not now, not ever again.

“Think about me?” I asked, voice strained. “Did you think about me when I spent that day wondering if you’d been hurt, or worse…dead? Did you think about me when you sent that text saying I was just a game, just a rebound to make your ex jealous?”

I stepped forward. Her chest brushed mine.

“You are a Bratva woman,” I hissed. “That’s supposed to mean something: duty and loyalty. But you don’t know a damn thing about either.”

She flinched again, and I smirked.

“I don’t care that you ran to Delaware. I don’t care if you thought about me. Whatever feelings I had for you died the day you hit send on that text.”

My eyes bore into hers.

“The only thing I care about now is you fixing the goddamn mess you made and getting Artyom off our back. Go pack your bags,” I said flatly. “You're leaving with me now.”

The defiance was back.

"I'm not leaving here with you," she shot back.

“We can either walk out this door together,” I said in a matter-of-fact tone, “or I can drag you out. And I promise you, not one cop is going to show up. Not in this neighborhood. Not even if the whole damn block calls.”

I already wired the money. The right palms were greased, their silence was bought.

“You can't do that!” she shrieked, her defiance fading.

I lifted a brow. “Oh? Are you daring me, Vera? Have you somehow forgotten who I am?”

She pressed herself into the wall like she could disappear into it.

“What are you going to do with me?” she whispered.

“Anything I want,” I growled. “Anything I fucking want, to fix the shitstorm you left behind.”

“Artyom isn't going to like this.”

“Artyom?” I laughed again. “Artyom is tearing through our faction like he owns the goddamn place. Do you think I give a fuck about what Artyom likes or not?”

I placed both palms on either side of her head. She froze, her blue eyes pinned on my stormy ones.

“What I give a fuck about,” I bit out, “are the innocent people in my faction whose blood is being spilled. What I give a fuck about are my sisters…my sisters, who almost died in the bomb that ripped through the Hearth. What I give a fuck about is Katya, who deserves peace, who deserves the joy of being a new mother without jumping at every goddamn sound she hears.”

Tears ran down her cheeks, but I didn’t stop.

I needed her to understand—to truly understand.

To drive it in so deeply, she would feel it in her bones.

I wasn't the man she once loved. She killed him years ago. What had risen from those circumstances was a monster she created. A monster she thought she could outrun. And he wasn’t here for closure; he was here for fucking vengeance.

“You want to know what else I don’t give a fuck about, Vera?” My voice dropped to a low snarl. “I don’t give a fuck about you. I don’t give a fuck about your family. I don’t give a fuck about feeling sorry for you right now. So save your tears for someone else.”

I leaned in, close enough for her to feel every ounce of rage vibrating off me.

“So I’ll say it again. Go. Pack. Your. Bags. We're leaving. Now.”

“Fine,” she whispered, defeated. “Can I at least use the bathroom before I pack?”

I stepped aside and followed her down the hallway. Just before she entered, I held out my hand. “Bag.”

She hesitated for half a second, then handed it over without a word. I wasn’t about to let her sneak off a text or make a call.

She disappeared inside and closed the door behind her.

I gave her space, leaning against the wall with my hands shoved in my pockets. Once we were back in Philly, phase two of my plan would begin.

Two minutes passed, and Vera was still in the bathroom. I knocked on the door.

“I’ll be out in a minute,” she called.

I returned to my position, leaning against the wall, but just as I settled, my phone rang. It was Lev. My pulse kicked up a notch. Shit. Had something happened?

“Is everything okay back home?” I asked.

“Everything here is fine,” he replied. “But I hadn’t heard from you since yesterday, and Katya wanted to make sure you were okay. I needed to call so I wouldn’t have to go home and lie to my wife.”

A dry smirk tugged at the corner of my mouth. That was Lev now, newly domesticated and trying not to fuck it up. I loved that for him, though, and loved Katya for caring. In a world where blood was our code, love from the right woman kept us…human.

“I’m fine. The deal I came to Vegas for just needs wrapping up. I should be back later tonight or by tomorrow.”

That wasn’t a full lie. I had told Lev I was heading to Vegas to secure an alliance that could help rein Artyom in. And I was. I just hadn’t told him the alliance involved Vera.

“Good. Be safe. See you soon.”

“Will do.”

The call ended. And just like that, the quiet stretched.

I checked my watch.

Vera still hadn’t come out of the bathroom.

I knocked on the door again but got no answer. I tried the knob, and it was locked.

My gut tightened. I slammed my shoulder into the door. On the third hit, the frame cracked, and I yanked it open.

The bathroom was empty.

And the goddamn window was wide open.

Vera was fucking gone.

I bolted out of the house and into my truck. I was about to fucking explode. This was the second time today Vera had slipped through my fingers, and when I got her back, because I would get her back, she’d learn firsthand what it meant to cross me.

She didn’t have her phone or any money. That meant she was on foot and vulnerable.

This was a dead-end street. One way in, one way out. She had a five-minute head start, max.

As I rolled through the neighborhood, my eyes scanned every yard, every alley, every shadow that shifted too quickly. If Vera made it back to Philly without me, my entire plan would go up in flames.

She wouldn’t risk the open road. Not yet. Outside this neighborhood was just a long, exposed stretch of asphalt. She’d stay hidden, wait for dark, then vanish.

I had to find her before the sun dipped too low, before the shadows became her ally.

After an hour of crawling through the neighborhood in my truck, I knew I needed to ditch it.

I needed something she wouldn't recognize.

I spotted a U-Haul, a big one. I parked the truck, hotwired the U-Haul, which had a narrow passthrough slit between the cab and the back, and started making my rounds.

It wasn’t long before I spotted her. Vera was climbing out of a goddamn treehouse in someone's front yard.

I let the U-Haul roll past her slowly, watching through the side mirror. When I got far enough ahead, I pulled over and waited. I let her come to me. And when she walked past my door, I pounced.

She barely had time to scream before I snatched her, tossed her into the back like cargo, slammed the door, and locked it tight.

I climbed back into the cab, shifted into gear, and headed for the private hangar.

Vegas was done. Now it was time for retribution. The real game was about to begin.