Page 68 of Deadly Knight (The Bratva’s Elite #2)

I didn’t realize it was possible to be this happy. So at peace.

There’s only two marks left staining the past. Stains I plan on ridding immediately, starting with a drive into the mountains to the prison.

Katya’s sprawled in bed on her stomach, her arms linked around a pillow in the same way I held her all night. Sweeping her hair from her neck, I press a kiss to the skin there, breathing in the citrus scent I’ll take with me to get through this day.

“Going somewhere?” she mumbles.

“Yeah, and I won’t be back ’til late. Anastasia’s staying around the mansion, and Vanessa will be in and out. Hang with them, if you’d like. Use my laptop to shop for whatever you want for our house. I’ve left my credit card on your nightstand.”

She lifts her head to see the black card. “Why so late?” It comes out whiny and cute, and she rolls to her back, the sheet getting tugged down until her breasts are visible, her body begging me to say fuck it and climb back into bed.

But if I don’t leave now, I may never, and this is something that needs to end.

“It’s far away, a long drive. You, right here, like this—I flick a finger over a nipple—“is why I’ll rush. In fact, don’t leave this bed. Stay like this for me.”

“Something for the Bratva?”

The last thing I want is to lie, especially when she’s been understanding what it means for me to work within the organization, so I don’t, without telling her the truth either.

“Something personal. I’ll explain later.”

“Okay.” Her gaze tells me it isn’t okay, but I bend over her to kiss her. “Well, good luck.”

I won’t need luck. Just sanity.

Ivan’s huddled in the furthest corner of his cell, his legs drawn up, the thin prison-issued uniform threadbare and too short on his ankles, and his bare feet without any protection. His skin shows dirt marks beneath the many goosebumps. Unshaven, I hardly recognize him when he lifts his head.

My father glares at me from his place on the cool ground of his cell.

It reeks like piss and mould in here, the frigid temperature barely warm enough to keep him alive.

The music has been shut off at my entrance, and though I haven’t been subjected to it, the silence in the small space feels deafening and echoey at the same time.

“So,” he starts, his voice grating and dry from lack of hydration and use, “you’ve returned.”

I reach into my pocket and retrieve the USB stick, holding it up for him to see. He stares for a second before his cracked lips spread in a sick grin as he recognizes it.

“Now, how did you get that? It was left with Mikhail and Andrei. They enjoyed seeing your slut getting fucked.”

“You had it filmed. You’re disgusting.”

“Had to relive the glory days.” He scans my face, noticing the faded, barely-there bruises and it’s with a flick of his chin, the disgraced man attempts to rise back up. For my own amusement, perhaps I’ll allow him to stand.

Final request and all that.

“You’re injured and have the USB I left with two good men. I can piece together what happened.”

“They’re dead,” I announce tonelessly. “But not before attempting to trade me for you.”

He smiles so hard, it drains the last dredges of his energy, making him cough.

I slide the USB away, my plans for it already decided, and trade it for the other item in my pocket: a small, velvet box, which I flick it open to show him. A part of me despises he’s seeing it before she is, but the message will be clear and that’s what’s important.

“You’ve come to invite me to your wedding? Does this mean I’ll be a grandfather within the year as well?”

If Katya and I have children, the thought of Ivan sharing any blood with them sickens me. He’s goading me, and I’ll be damned if I reveal the effect his words have.

“My intention was to forget about you for the next twenty years, or until you were driven mad. For what you’ve done to Katya, Vanessa, and I, you deserve nothing less. But I refuse to go into the next chapter of my life, knowing you’re drawing breath.”

“So you’ve come to kill me.” His chin lifts, accepting his death in the only way he’s been trained to be: proud.

“I’ve come to ensure Katya will be able to sleep nightmare-free. For her to embrace our future without anything from the past remaining alive.”

“Does it bother you that I fill her mind at night?”

Ignoring his taunt, I continue. “I spent the entire drive here deciding how to do it, considering death is coming for you many years sooner than planned.” I pocket the ring box and return with the third and final thing.

“You need to experience a fraction of the pain she did. Crying for help that never arrives. After all, you’d know this considering you’ve relived that day nearly as much as she has.

” I cross the room, my shoes dragging over the cement to crouch in front of him.

“Did you enjoy it, Ivan? Enjoyed witnessing her worst moments, feeling like a fucking king as you did so?”

His eyes flicker in fear, finally showing a level of understanding over what’s about to happen.

“Answer me.”

His throat moves with his rough swallow. “Y-yes.”

I flick open the switchblade.

“Dimitri.” Here’s the begging. “Don’t.”

“Cry, Ivan. Cry like Katya did. Beg like I did.”

“Dimitri—”

“Beg!”

“Dimitri, please! Syn ? — ”

I lunge forward, his use of that title being the final blow, and stab the knife into his left eyeball, rendering him blind in one eye.

Blood spurts and he bows over, his scream animalistic and desperate as he claws at his face to end the agony, but I’m not done.

A hand into his shoulder forces him upright, and I pierce his right eye.

I’m more careful when pulling out the blade this time. Twisting it around until the eyeball is dislodged from the socket and remains are connected to the blade. I tug it from his body entirely, uncurl one of his hands, and slide it from the blade until it’s left in his palm.

“Sure you can figure out what you’re holding. Blame yourself, considering you made me the man I am. Proud, Papa?”

His screams are so loud, he masks my speech. He moans too, so maybe he heard some of what I said.

I tighten my hand over his, feeling his eyeball flex within his palm. It’s all kinds of gross, but satisfying too.

“Prison was for every act committed against Katya and Vanessa. Your newly minted eyesight is for rewatching the rape. But this…this is for me, so your sorry ass soul won’t taint my life when I wed her.

The woman you fought so hard to keep away, so I’d be the perfect soldier you can twist to your needs.

Without your ruthless training, I wouldn’t be who I am today, so thank you for that.

Thank you for making it possible to protect her. ”

My sarcastic, though truthful, speech is lost within screams of a dying man. It no longer matters since my speech was as much for myself as for him.

I rest the knife at his throat.

“Goodbye, Ivan.”

And drag it until a thin line of blood swells.

“See you in Ad. ”

He chokes, gurgles, his hands shifting to his throat while fighting the final dredges of breath. Air. Life .

After wiping his blood off the blade and onto his prison uniform, I pocket it and step back.

His death is quick, choking on blood until slumping over, and becoming the prison’s problem to dispose of.

“Szhech' yego trup,” I instruct the guard in the hallway to burn his corpse, wanting nothing of that man left behind.

Then I leave, vowing to never return.