Page 1 of Deadly Knight (The Bratva’s Elite #2)

Free choice is a concept we sell ourselves; it isn’t real. Never has been and never will be.

Free choice means not being bred into a family of monsters—a world and lifestyle that would be otherwise enjoyable if not for the people running it.

If only the hatred I feel over my own life came from noble reasons, such as having bigger and better plans, and doing what’s expected of me counters them. But it’d be a lie.

There is no other path for me.

While I’m not yet a fully sworn-in member of the Bratva—meaning, although inducted, I haven’t taken my vows yet—I’m already ahead of where I’m expected to be.

Uncle Ursin, the Pakhan of the Bratva, claims I’m a natural at completing the assigned tasks.

Those compliments thrill Papa more than me, though, because the blood staining my hands afterwards tells a different story.

I don’t know how to feel about that.

The notion of embracing my legacy, rising through the ranks and surpassing everyone, brings a sense of pride. When my cousin, Vanessa, weds, and Ursin eventually retires or dies, her husband will take the position of the next Pakhan. With enough work, I can become his second, like Papa is Ursin’s.

I suppose I’m torn because becoming a Bratva soldier takes time away from what matters most. From who matters most.

That who is currently beaming as I park in front of her modest, three-bedroom house, nestled in the heart of one of Moscow’s oldest and finest neighbourhoods.

Nothing else would be fitting for the family who calls it home, nor for the girl who skips down the short path and reaches me by the time I get out of the car.

Katya.

My everything.

She throws her arms around my neck, nestling her face into me. I embrace her, drinking in her faint scent of citrus and sunshine. And like the massive star above, she never fails to warm me.

I pull back to cup her cheek, my thumb tracing her cheekbone, never able to resist exploring her. I’ve been addicted to touching Katya since the moment she allowed me to.

Allowed. It goes back to the concept of free choice. She’s consenting to someone like me—someone who endures the criminal underbelly of life and who’s soon to be a full-fledged criminal in every sense of the word—tainting someone as pure as her.

Papa believes I’ve been putting Katya on a pedestal ever since meeting her four years ago. Even then, she had a siren call I was unable to tune out. She was light and peace—everything I wasn’t then and continue to not be. Everything that calls to the darkness within, which begs for a reprieve.

Being from a regular, civilian family, she’s everything normal.

Her mother’s a dentist, and her father is a car salesman.

They’ve lived in this very house since before she was born.

Katya’s a straight-A student who almost never skips class and always hands in her assignments on time.

She works part-time at an ice cream parlour—one I visit frequently just to spend every waking second I can with her.

We shouldn’t work the way we do. While she deals ice cream to innocents, I deal drugs.

While she learns to regulate her emotions, I unleash mine on the Bratva’s enemies.

While she completes her homework by putting in the work herself, I pay to have mine done because Papa insists I attend one meeting or another, so I don’t have the time to do it.

Something brought us together. Fate, perhaps. Whatever bullshit excuse the universe had, it made her mine. And that means the universe can never take her back.

Three and a half years later, I live and breathe for Katya. For her smiles, her expressions, her very soul. For every breath she takes, I inhale one too, my heartbeat aligned with hers because we’ve been so fused together.

So, it’s not a pedestal I’ve placed her on, like Papa assumes. It’s simply my reality. She’s better than me and always will be. Katya is made to unleash goodness and peace into the world, while I bring death and destruction. It’s my only future. My only path.

Yet for every reason I should let her go to keep her untainted, I don’t.

Can’t.

I’m selfish that way.

“Thinking hard up there?” Katya brushes a thumb along the crease between my eyes, her movement drawing my attention to the dark-green ribbon tied around her wrist.

Two years ago, I jokingly wrapped it around her wrist during our art class.

She was focused on the assignment, but I was entirely focused on her.

The way her tongue peeked between her lips as she hot-glued craft supplies together.

The way she continued waving me away with giggles so she could focus.

“Until I can replace it with a diamond one,” I told her.

She stopped what she was doing and turned to me, her gaze heavy with buried emotion. With a firm shake of her head, she said, “I’ll never need diamonds. I’ll love anything you give me.”

From then on, the stupid ribbon’s been permanently affixed to her wrist.

Like our entire relationship. She deserves so much better, yet I keep hanging on.

I’ve come to love it, though. It feels like my own private claim on her—something only we know the origins of.

“Dimitri?”

Remembering her previous question, I finally manage, “It’s nothing.”

She doesn’t need to know how depressing my thoughts have become lately; that around me, she’ll never be able to fully embrace who she deserves to be. Having a relationship with a mobster isn’t easy. Death and pain are the norm, and for someone who comes from a regular family, it’s unfair.

These irritating, headache-inducing thoughts have been plaguing me more often, considering we’re a week from graduation. We have a couple months of summer before she heads off to Moscow State University, chasing her dream of becoming a teacher.

I applied to the school as well, for criminology, and was accepted. Papa ripped the letter up and laughed in my face.

“You truly think you can continue faking normality for her ? Dimitri, higher education isn’t in your future.”

Katya understands our paths are paved to take us in different directions.

She claims to not care, but it’s terrifying to wonder if it’ll eventually bother her.

At university, she’ll be spending time with other people—other guys—who are pursuing normal dreams and a better future…

one that matches her own. Eventually, she’ll get a job as a teacher, working during the daytime, while mine keeps me up late, deep within the underbelly of the city, where the shadows come out to play.

I’m scared of everything after graduation.

One day, she’ll wake up and realize she wants more than I can give her—a man who works a nine-to-five career and only ever hears the screams of dying people in horror movies, who’ll never come home with blood on his hands or a trunk full of drugs to drop off.

“Ready?” I gesture towards the car for her to slide in. She does, and as I’m walking around to my side, my phone vibrates. I glance at it, suspecting who the sender is even before reading the contact.

Papa

Where the fuck are you?

Ursin called a last-minute meeting about an hour ago, but I ignored it and headed to Katya’s house because we had plans. No doubt by now, he’s realized I’m not in attendance.

Papa

Do not ignore me. Get your ass here NOW.

“All good?” Katya’s staring at my phone, nibbling on her bottom lip.

I slide the device back into my pocket and reply, “Yeah,” even though it’s really not.

The second my foot crosses the threshold of the Bratva mansion, a heavy hand slams me against the doorframe.

His grip clenched around my throat renders me immobile.

I’m already taller than him with nearly the same build, and fighting could mean winning.

Doing so angers him more, though, so I remain compliant.

“Where the fuck were you tonight? When your Pakhan calls, you come. Then. In the time given. Not five hours later.”

Despite the private deal with myself to remain yielding, submissiveness isn’t instinctual for me. I twist my neck, loosening his hold. “Out. Not my fault Ursin calls last-minute meetings.”

Papa seethes, his teeth pressing together, because I dared to speak against our leader. “It is when it’s your motherfucking job. You were with her , weren’t you?”

There’s no point denying it. He knows the only place I’d be is with Katya. Besides, he’d probably see through any attempt to lie.

When Vanessa was home for the holidays from boarding school a year ago, she said I’m too obvious with my feelings for Katya, and one day my love for her will get me in trouble if I wasn’t careful.

At the time, I saw it as a compliment. Now, I realize it’s a weakness.

A sign of my vulnerability. The closer I get to being sworn in, the more my kill count increases, and thus, my enemy count.

People would love to take out the Pakhan’s nephew, which places Katya in danger; there are more people who know about her, and she could be used against me.

“And?” I shove him off and push from the doorframe to head for the grand staircase and end this conversation.

He trails me, his steps heavy in his attempt to make a point. “Your fondness for her needs to end, Dimitri. I understand you care about her, but the moment you chose her over Bratva business is the day she’s become an issue.”

She’ll never be an issue.

My heel squeaks on the step as I spin around, glaring. “You don’t understand. If you did, you’d respect her and my decision. Besides, I got caught up on what the meeting was about. Ursin fears invasion, but never said from whom, and wants the borders better defended.”

Papa frowns, unimpressed I found my own way of staying on top of things. “Lev told you, I assume?”

Lev Petrov is the son of one of Ursin’s Elite members—his inner circle of top-ranking soldiers.

Generals, really. Like me, Lev is training to be sworn into the Bratva and eventually continue the legacy we’ve been bred into.

Over the years, we’ve gotten close, often running deals together and bitching about the shit our fathers force onto us.

There’s stuff he’s hidden, though—things having to do with his twin sister, Anastasia, I’m sure—and I’ve respected his privacy.

Likewise, he respects my desire for a relationship with Katya enough to catch me up on Bratva details I miss out on when with her.

“Good night, Papa.” I turn around without answering him.

He huffs, his annoyance tailing me up the stairs. “When you graduate in a week, you will end this facade. That’s an order.”

Truly, I’m shocked he remembered the date of graduation, considering his low opinion of it.

“You don’t have that kind of power over me. But thanks for trying.”

Katya will never be a facade. She’s my future.

One I’ll kill for.

Die for.

Bow for.

One that owns me—every beat of my heart and every bit of my soul.

And nothing will ever change that.