Page 75 of Cruel Russian Pakhan

Those witches had the audacity to laugh? To be happy after reporting back to Artyom? After betraying Katya?

She was probably terrified, maybe even hurt, and they were sitting, probably sharing a damn bottle of wine like it was just another evening.

It made my blood burn.

They'd sold her out. Just like I'd warned her.

And if her own sisters could betray her, what the hell made her think her brothers wouldn’t?

I crept forward, until I came to the lounge. Vera sat with her back to me, swirling a glass of wine. Kira faced her, and the second her eyes lifted and met mine, they went wide.

Too late.

I surged forward, clamping an arm around Vera's neck and dragging her upright, her glass shattered on the ground. My cold gun dug against her temple.

“If either of you scream, I'll kill you, Vera. Understood?” I asked icily.

They both nodded.

I dragged Vera with me deeper into the room, positioning us near the window that faced the doorway.

I didn’t have time to waste, the house had security cameras. That gave me minutes, maybe less, before their brothers descended on me.

But I wasn’t leaving without answers.

Or Katya.

“Where’s Katya?” I growled.

“She’s at the clinic where we left her,” Vera said, voice trembling.

“You told Artyom where she was. And he took her.” I tightened my grip around her neck just slightly, enough to send a message. “Where. The fuck. Is. Katya?”

“We don’t know!” Kira shrieked. “We didn’t tell anyone anything!”

“Stop playing games with me. Return Katya to me…” My voice dropped into a cold, deadly promise. “Or somebody dies tonight.”

“The only person dying tonight is you, Safin,” Artyom snapped from the doorway, “if you don’t get your fucking hands, and that fucking gun, off my sister.”

Artyom, Yegor and Zahkar, all had guns raised, aimed at me, as they walked into the room.

The air crackled with tension.

Zahkar moved fast, stepping in front of Kira and carefully backing her toward the doorway.

But just as she disappeared into the hallway, she reappeared. Her arm was gripped by Marten and fear was painted on her face.

His gun was aimed at her head. Not touching her, but close enough to make her brothers freeze and lower their guns slightly.

Marten was followed into the room by Jaroslav, Pyotr and Avit, guns raised, each gun targeting a different brother.

“Looks like we’ve got ourselves a little standoff, Artyom,” Marten snarled, never taking his eyes off him. “And guess what?”

He nodded in my direction, a devious smirk curling his lips, his blue eyes freezing over, right before he turned his gaze back to Artyom.

“We’re at the fucking advantage. Now I’ll ask this question, and I expect an answer. Where the fuck is Katya?”

“The last time I saw Katya Lev was dragging her away. Just because his wife ran away doesn't mean she came here,” Artyom shot back.