Page 8 of Deadly Knight (The Bratva’s Elite #2)

The waiting room closest to Katya’s room becomes my new residence for the next…well, I don’t really know how many hours or days have passed since she was admitted. Everything’s a blur amongst the agonizing knowledge she’s only hurt because of me. Because she’s around someone like me .

With a regular guy, someone who isn’t a mobster, she would have remained at the bonfire drinking, talking to friends, and dancing. Spending the night as she should have experienced.

Instead, she was in the forest because of my deal. She never should have been there. If I knew years ago this was her future, I never would have spoken to her. Never would have gotten close enough to open my heart up.

Running on caffeine and adrenaline, sleep feels so far away, to the point I don’t know when I last did it.

At this rate, I might never again; every time I close my eyes, even just to blink, I’m met with an onslaught of memories.

Tormenting visions of Katya tied to a mattress, crying, while a faceless figure lowers between her legs and?—

I’ll kill them.

Maybe it’s the lack of sleep or the endless coffee I’ve been sucking back, but my mind whirls in depraved revenge planning.

The moment after finally getting to visit Katya, I’ll start hunting.

The Volkov name has a lot of pull throughout Russia, and I’ll swallow my pride and go to Papa and Ursin for help if I must. There will be no price too high to ensure retribution is paid.

Steps approach, and I’m prepared for a nurse’s scolding. None of them can decide whether to kick me out or pity me. Instead, a bulkier figure settles into the cheap chair beside me, his low grunt a greeting.

Instantly, my muscles tense. If I were in his place, I wouldn’t hesitate before fucking up the person behind his daughter’s harm. In this case, that’s me. Before he goes off on me, I ask what I need to know.

“Is she okay?”

“She’s alive.” He pauses, kicking out a leg in front of him. “Police told us what you passed on to them. They’ll be collecting her statement tomorrow if she’s conscious long enough. She woke up for a few minutes today, but passed out after a very short conversation.”

My eyes shift to the right, catching as much of the middle-aged man as I can in my periphery without directly facing him. “There are no words that’ll describe how sorry I am. I-I never…I didn’t…” My sentences fade as my throat fills, no explanation good enough.

“I know.”

My head drops into my hands, the weight too much.

“I tried. I told her to stay. She didn’t…

didn’t…” What I was about to say isn’t at all correct, so I give up talking.

She may not have listened when I ordered her back to the party, but what happened isn’t her fault whatsoever.

Rape isn’t the victim’s fault. “I should have protected her.”

“You should have.”

His agreement, while justified, is still a kick in the gut.

“But,” he continues softly, “you were there for her. You did what you could.”

That gives me a bit of hope. “I have no right to ask this, but can I see her?”

There’s a beat of silence before he leans forward, putting himself into my view. His elbows lift to the chair’s armrests, his position almost casual. “I don’t think that’s wise right now. If she asks for you, I will call you, I promise.”

I manage to bob my head in a nod when my throat is too tight to verbally agree. After another few seconds of silence, he stands and paces away. My head remains low, eyes on his retreating steps.

He stops walking, hesitating, and I drag my eyes up, finally looking into the face of the man who has every right to slaughter me. I could only hope he sees my own pain and spares me. Fuck, her pain is enough to gut me, which saves him from doing the job himself.

“I’m sorry, Dimitri. When the police told us what happened, you were in my thoughts too.

You survived something horrendous, and I’m sorry you had to witness what they did, but I’m also grateful.

Grateful she had you to cling to, and that you got her out.

You saved her in the end, and you have my gratitude for that. ”

Then he turns and walks away before my mind can formulate a semi-rational response.

A response to her father’s speech never comes.

Not after sitting outside the hospital all night and into the early hours of the next day before finally crawling home.

After speaking with her father, I couldn’t risk leaving in case she woke up asking for me.

Then I’d be close enough to be by her side quickly. It was a hope that never got granted.

Shutting the front door of the Volkov mansion sends a fresh wave of determination through me.

Maybe it’s being away from the grimness of the hospital and back within the building that represents so much anger, bloodshed, and power that does it.

But suddenly, my requirement for sleep and anything the nurses recommended for mending is secondary to the utter demand to fix Katya in the only way I can—by ridding the world of her nightmares.

I rush down the hallway towards my uncle’s office. If he and Papa are around, they only ever occupy one room out of the many within the mansion. Always conducting business and planning future takeovers.

Without pausing, I throw open the door, praying they’re here and not in the city. Even if their help comes with a cost, it’s one I’ll pay to figure out who the four men were.

Both men look up from the paperwork they’re intently studying. Ursin is seated in his chair with my father standing by his right, one hand propping him up on the desk as he leans closer, gesturing to something. He straightens slowly when I stride in, slamming the door shut.

“Dimitri,” he greets, his expression guarded in that typical manner. No warmth in this father-son relationship. “Just get in? How was the party? You’ve been gone for more than a day.”

I approach the desk. My limbs are weak, demanding I drop into one of the chairs, but once I do, I may never get back up. I wonder what they’re seeing right now. Me manic. Depressed. Insane.

“I need your help, Papa.”

Ursin glances at his brother, mouth flattening, before he lifts to his feet. “I’m going to leave you two alone.” He strides around the desk and by me without another look.

When the door shuts, Papa steals his seat, his hands folding together over the desk. If my uncle weren’t around, he could pass as Pakhan. If Ursin wasn’t the eldest, Papa would be Pakhan, and I’d be expected to follow in his footsteps to become the next leader.

Thank fuck that’s not what fate has in store for me.

“Papa, last night?—”

“How’s Katya? She wake up yet?”

My blood cools, and my stance slowly straightens as I replay his question over and over. Papa’s powerful and has eyes everywhere. It shouldn’t surprise me that someone may have witnessed Katya and me arriving at the hospital and phoned him.

That’s the logical answer, but his expression suggests otherwise. It’s in the way his lips lift and he reclines in the chair with a deep, exhaustive breath. I recognize this look. It’s one he gives me so often before demanding my obedience. One he gives captives before he kills them.

One that says, I’ve won, deal with it.

“What did you do?” Each word is paced, slow and heavy—almost a whisper spoken from my heart rather than my throat. A thought-out question while the puzzle gets pieced together.

“That didn’t take you long. Always knew, away from that civilian cunt, you’d see clearer.”

My stomach flips, my next whisper guttural with betrayal. “It was you.”

He bobs his head in acknowledgement. “I warned you to get rid of her. You have a role in the Bratva, and now that you’re eighteen and finished with that useless school, you must step up.

A relationship is fleeting, but the Bratva is forever, and it’s imperative you focus on that.

That girl is distracting. Too many times, you’ve chosen her over your job, and it sickens me. It had to end.”

How could someone—how could my father —do this? How could someone concoct something so fucking horrible and cruel for an innocent?

Red fury flicks down my spine, straight to my fists. Torment tightens every nerve inside me until I’m nothing more than a stiff statue, unsure what to do, what to think, how to process this. I entered this room prepared to beg for help finding Katya’s four villains, but there was one ringleader.

My own fucking father.

He glances at my fists. “You’re both too stubborn for your own good. She surprised me yesterday when she declined the payout I offered in exchange for her to get out of your life. Guess she really cares for you.” He scoffs, the concept of caring foreign to him.

A payout? It hits me then. Graduation, when I was running late because of a last-minute job he had for me. It was all planned. He got me away from the ceremony to be alone with her to bribe her before I showed up.

No wonder she seemed so off afterwards. If only I demanded to know what they spoke about rather than let it go. It could have saved us so much pain if I knew what he was up to and how much he wanted us apart.

Within the course of twelve hours, his twisted morals led him from bribery to rape. I should be surprised, but I’m not. His moral compass broke many years ago. Hell, I’m not sure his ever pointed north to begin with.

“How could you?” I finally manage to speak, but it’s nothing more than a dry whisper.

Papa’s brow hikes. “How could I ? How could you turn away from your heritage, all for some common whore?”

I snap. I feel it inside me as the tension grows too tight, and the little restraint I’ve been clinging to shatters into mindless rage.

Papa wants a soldier worthy of the Bratva? He’ll fucking get one.

In a flash, my arm snaps across the desk, and I grip Papa’s crisp, white collar to yank him towards me.

His stomach jams into the desk, causing him to grunt with discomfort.

My other hand practically pulls him over the surface, the paperwork he and my uncle were previously reading scattering to the floor.

Papa might be scary to others, but his increasing age, lack of effort in the gym, and preference for sweets has weakened him. Hand to hand, I’ll beat him every time, and he knows it. Even now, wariness flits through his hardened gaze.

I don’t speak. Don’t provide him any sort of warning before my fist launches into his face. My grip on his collar is all that keeps him in place. A second punch smashes into his nose, a satisfying crack filling the air before a trickle of blood follows.

He manages to lift his hands in a silent plea for me to stop.

I shouldn’t stop. Shouldn’t ever stop. Shouldn’t ever show him any mercy because he ensured Katya got none when she and I both begged them to stop violating her.

When I was tied to a chair, limited to only verbal threats that were ignored while they vandalized an angel.

His lips crack in a sickening grin. “Proud of you, syn .” Son.

“Proud?” I snarl, releasing him with a firm jerk. He lands on the leather seat, the wheels sliding him back a couple inches from the force.

“Of course.” He wipes under his nose, streaking the blood, before gesturing at me. “Look at you. For fucking once, you care about something. The wrong something, sure, but in time, you’ll channel this anger into productivity and see how this is all for you.”

All this for me . He genuinely believes that?

He continues before I can form a comprehensible reply.

“This is the deadliest I’ve yet to see you be.

Every job you complete, you act as though a knife’s hanging over your head.

No passion. No effort. Such a shame to see talent wasted.

But no longer. You’ll become the soldier you were always meant to be.

In time, you’ll recognize the benefits of my actions.

At the cost of her, it’s worth it. To me, anyway.

You have too much potential to be wasted. ”

“Wasted.” My tone drops a few chilling degrees. “I was never fucking wasted . How could you do this to the girl I love? I’ve always known you’re heartless, but this? Papa…”

He scoffs. “Love. Worthless fucking emotion. You don’t need love, Dimitri.

Eventually, you’ll take a wife. A good woman.

The daughter of a prominent figure in our country, or one from another organization to solidify a decent alliance.

Your civilian girlfriend was never long term, and I hoped you understood she could only ever be entertainment during your youth. ”

I’m already shaking my head. “Your mistake was thinking this would change my feelings for her.” My heel makes a noise as I twist for the door. “This conversation isn’t over. Not by a long fuckin’ shot. Not until I hunt down every one of those bastards you hired and slaughter them all.”

His chuckle is lined with malice as it trails me out of the office. “Can’t wait, syn. ”