Page 12 of Devil's Vows

“Boryslav was our darling stepmother’s suggestion two years ago, when things were still hunky dory,” she says as she pushes her half-eaten plate away. “Since you now have her contained, I don’t see why I need to comply to any of her idiotic ideas anymore. I came home, as you demanded, Ivan, but I can’tlivehere. I can’t perform, I can’t have images of me on albums I’ve recorded, this incognito existence of a ghost?—”

“Malyshka,” I cut in, understanding every last gripe she has with this life we were born into. Ever since she was two years old and our mom swept her back and forth between the Motherland and America, Milana hasn’t known her place.

It crushed me, too, having her and our mom ripped repeatedly from home from a young age. I only realized much later it was the Pakhan’s way of preparing me for leadership and this life of emotional disconnect. Yep, from early on, I was trained to be a cold motherfucker. And in our world, I need to be.

Now something else isn’t adding up. Our mom did the to-ing and fro-ing with Milana for a long time, until she died of cancer when we were too young for it. When Milana was younger, she loathed going to Russia. Now all she wants is to go back?

No. This makes zero sense.

“I need you. Katya and Irisha need you. You have to helpout. Be present here, in mind and not just a body.” I steel myself—this has to be done. “I forbid you to go back to Russia.”

She blinks at me. In our world, my word is law. I can see rebellion stirring in her mind as she purses her lips, on the verge of challenging me.Or else what, Ivan? What exactly are you going to do to me if I disobey your orders and get on a flight?

She has no clue what I’m capable of.

“For all of that,” she bites out, “you don’t need me married to Boryslav Petrenko.”

“It’s an alliance,” I spell out, trying to keep my patience. “We need the manpower, here and in Russia.” I drop my gaze, not able to look her in the eye as I determine her fate. I’ve been in an arranged marriage once. It didn’t end well. “Was he here today?”

Rolling her eyes at me, she gets up. “No. And thank fuck for that.”

She scrapes the leftovers into the trash then puts her plate and silverware in the dishwasher. She’s giving me her back, fuming, and apparently, our conversation is over.

As she walks off with a barely whispered “Good night,” I quietly take measure.

It’s been four days since my sister’s fiancé has been here to check in with his betrothed. One half of me is relieved I didn’t have to talk shop with the dickhead; the other half fists tight with dread. There are many ways to skin a cat, and getting rid of this last lifeline for the Petrov Bratva would be an easy hit.

I speed-dial Yuri’s number as I stand to collect the brown envelope where I left it. Someone needs to find Boryslav and bring him here so he can explain why he hasn’t been paying my sister her due respects.

For all I know, Boryslav could have been bought, jumped ship, or even worse: gotten himself into trouble I need to go dig him out of.

Let’s face it, the fucker isn’t exactly the sharpest tool in the shed.

7

IVAN

“We’ve found Sergei.”

It’s past midnight, but I’ve been bulldozing through some work I could no longer ignore.

“Alive?” I ask as Yuri steps into my office.

“Yep. Hunted him down and found him hiding like a fucking rat in the shipyards.” His mouth pulls into a thin line. “He’s…hanging on.”

But not for long.

I pluck out the switchblade from where I’ve stabbed it into the desk, leaving my mark as my father had done before me.

Flick in. Flick out. The sharp blade blinks in the light.

I meet Yuri’s one eye. The other is gone, the mutilation hidden behind a black eyepatch.

Yep, I’m not the only one who walks around with battle scars. Yuri is one of the few men I still trust, his loyalty proven time and time again. He is also one of a handful of people I allow around my girls, because he watched Milana and me grow up—his role assovetnikin our father’s Bratva cemented him into our lives.

Yuri’s eye drops to the blade and we’re of the same mind.There will be no gracious death for Sergei in the cards tonight. No. Sergei will be alive for as long as it takes.

I’ve been too soft. Too gentle. It’s time to up my game. Until now, Sergei was the last man unaccounted for, and I’m no longer fucking around.