Page 3 of Hateful Vows

TWO

ALEKSEI

I barely registered the protests of last night's mistake as my dear sister kicked her out of my flat. Contrarily, Irina’s very presence and her heady Shalimar perfume threaten to unravel all the secrets I keep buried for her own safety.

I can never let myself even think of them.

Someone is bound to use it against me, and I’ve learnt the cost of weakness a long time ago.

I read the text from my right-hand man, Ilia.

The news he shares is worrisome. Our leader, Moscow’s Pakhan , has left the London Bratva to be self-governed for years.

Ever since my father married Irina’s mother and returned to his territory with a wife and a daughter in tow fifteen years ago, Misha Petrov has never bothered to come visit, or check on my father’s business.

The fact that he’s now coming for the second time in less than six months doesn’t bode well.

My frown deepens as Irina’s phone rings and she tells me my father is calling her. Foreboding is a snake slithering into me. Even if it would have killed me inside, I’d rather it’d be a lover calling her for a repeat, though I know she shares her body but never her bed.

The vile creature she carries everywhere jumps next to me, butting my hand with its head for a pet as if sensing I need calming. I stroke its soft black fur absentmindedly, clicking my tongue in annoyance. It seems I can never escape the spawn of Satan. Or his mother.

The cat purrs, completely unbothered.

“What is it?” Irina’s voice comes out as a command more than a question and I sigh in aggravation.

“Why are you still here?” I feign to ignore her. I wouldn’t be able to even if I were deaf, blind and lost my sense of smell. Her very presence is written in the fabric of my bones.

“Your frown’s deeper than usual. It makes your scars pop, Lyosha .”

I grind my molars at the nickname, a short version of Aleksei.

She never uses it when we’re in public or in front of our parents, but that’s what Irina has called me ever since she was fifteen, moving into our house from Russia, not knowing a single person beside her useless mother.

Even then, I couldn't refuse her a thing. Now that she’s grown into a vicious snake, I pick my battles carefully. This one isn’t the one I’ll win.

“And I know how much you love the reminder of what you owe me,” I taunt, satisfied when a muscle clenches on her set jaw. “Ilia texted. Petrov is landing this afternoon.”

“Whatever the hell for? The bastard has never set foot in the UK and now he’s visited twice.”

“Exactly.”

I stand and rinse my shaker and cup of coffee before dropping them into the dishwasher, then don my suit jacket in silence.

My movements are controlled as I clasp a watch around my wrist, hiding yet another scar inflicted upon me by the same bastard who gave me all the other ones that litter my body and face.

The same man I’m about to spend too much time in close proximity with.

When I move for the door, Irina’s heels echo in the silent living room, just behind me. I whirl around, our faces inches apart. “You’re staying here.”

“Absolutely not, Aleksei.”

“For once in your life, listen to me, Irina. My father calling you is bad news. Petrov being here is even worse. You don’t know what he’s capable of, but I do. My father is a walk in the park in comparison. Don’t make yourself a target.” I add the last part through clenched teeth.

“I’m always a target for Ivan Dobrev and I will never cower like my mother,” she hisses.

Our eyes lock, her amber ones burning with pride and spite. I don’t relent and neither does she. Unfortunately for her, I’m not in the mood to cater to her whims today.

“As you wish.”

I bend at the waist and swoop my step-sister over my shoulder, wincing as her torso hits my back. The wounds under my shirt are still fresh, courtesy of my father’s latest training session. She protests and slaps her hands against my spine.

It’s not sweat dripping down underneath my clothes.

I’m glad I have the suit jacket on to hide the evidence of the gruelling lashing I received as my weekly mental and physical training my father insists on putting me through.

I’ve lived like this for seventeen years, since the day I turned fifteen.

I passed out the first time. By now, I bite my tongue and hold my breath.

I throw Irina onto the bed in the spare bedroom that’s undisturbed by the unwanted guest, and quickly close the door behind me, locking her in.

“Let me out.” Her voice comes out muffled but it’s irate. She bangs on the door and I don’t answer. I’ll do what I have to to protect her. I always have.

When I march towards the entrance of my flat, her creature sits in my way, hissing. I point a finger at it. “If you pee on my Persian rugs, I’ll throw you off the balcony.”

My threat falls on unbothered ears and the cat disappears from view.

I stretch my neck and shift my shoulder blades. After picking up a fresh shirt from my closet, I let Jivko drive me to my father’s condo.

“ Y ou could have looked more presentable for the Pakhan, moy syn ,” my father sneers as he takes me in.

Ivan Dobrev is the portrait of Russian royalty, seated at the desk of his Edwardian mansion in the centre of a wealthy London suburb, and surrounded by golden clocks and priceless trinkets.

A square jaw and greying brown hair cropped short accentuate a proud nose and strong brow.

We look a lot alike if not for the scars on my face.

They offend him even though he’s the one who tried to carve my eye out, and gave me a joker smile.

Not the same day, but for the same reason.

Her.

I take a deep inhale, trying to calm the rage boiling inside my chest and keep it contained. I could look well rested, be dressed in a few thousand-pound custom suit and freshly shaved—and I’m all three right now—he’d still find me lacking. There’s no point in antagonising him.

“Yes, Otets .”

“Where’s Irina?”

“I don’t know, Otets . I haven’t seen her since last night.”

“That fucking good-for-nothing air-head,” he mutters. “It’s better she isn’t here today, anyway. When Pakhan arrives, keep your mouth shut.”

I nod and stand at his back. He rarely brings Irina up in conversation, and when he does, it’s never good. My whole body tenses as we wait for the kingpin.

A few minutes later, the doors to the study open to reveal three heavily armed men guarding Misha Petrov.

Tall, athletic, well-dressed, and looking like a mean motherfucker with a bald head and a crooked nose, the man we’re supposed to serve isn’t here for pleasantries.

His cool demeanour sends a shiver down my spine.

What I’m not prepared for is a metal chain in his hand leading to the neck of a crawling girl in scraps of underwear following him around.

Fucking hell.

She looks barely legal. Her hair is filthy and her hands and knees are torn, her face wincing with every movement. With her gaze affixed on the floor, she whimpers inaudibly when Petrov pulls on the chain to have her sit at his heels.

My years of training are the only thing preventing me from peeking at my father. Is that his grand new plan he kept boasting about for the past few weeks? Are we to enter the fucking flesh trade? My blood boils with anger and the need to do something. Anything for the woman on the floor.

I’m about to draw my gun and put a bullet in between the eyes of Bratva’s Pakhan when he opens his mouth, changing the tide.

“I see my prize isn’t here.”

I bristle. Surely, he isn’t talking about who I think he is.

“Since we have yet to reach an agreement, Pakhan, I left her at her flat,” my father says sweetly, the lies falling off his lips with practiced ease. “I thought she would make fine entertainment for the celebration, later on.”

Spiders creep up my entire body, my blood singing in my ears with the implication he’s making.

My father has never loved Irina; he’s barely tolerated her.

But even for him, this would be a new low.

I don’t have any hope for him to be kind to my step-sister, but selling her…

I can’t even think about it. This can’t be happening.

Misha Petrov clicks his tongue. “I’d rather sample my products before making a new contract, Dobrev. Otherwise, how am I supposed to know you’re gonna be any good at it?”

“I have other offerings ready for you in the East wing, Pakhan. Irina will be the pièce de résistance . I’ll have my men pick her up this afternoon.”

My hands are crossed in front of me and I almost cut the blood flow with how hard I’m clenching them together, my jaw popping with the force of my restraint.

If Irina is about to be sold to Misha Petrov, I’ll be as good as dead if I try anything now, surrounded by guards who are loyal to Petrov and my father.

I’ve never been more grateful for locking her up in my flat.

She barely has any security at her own place, insisting she doesn’t need it because she’s deadly enough.

She wouldn’t be against goons set to deliver her to Evil.

“I won’t be here this afternoon, Dobrev. I’m a busy man. I’ll sample what you have on hand and leave. I’m set to fly to Croatia in two hours. Send her to me by the end of the month,” he says like he’s talking about a piece of furniture. My nostrils flare with anger but I keep my mouth shut.

Petrov finally gazes up at me, nothing but death in his dark blue eyes. “And who is that?”

“My son, Pakhan. A fine soldier. Deadly and vicious. I trained him myself.”

It’s the first time my father speaks of me with pride and I shouldn’t be surprised it’s about him and not me, about his talent as a “trainer”.

I’m nothing but a prize and a dog. Nothing around him has value but for what it can bring him.

Petrov nods, then quickly leaves the room, dismissing us as he is escorted to the East wing of the mansion, the woman in tow.

My father stands and closes the lapels of his suit jacket.

“Find Irina, moy syn , and make sure she doesn’t cause trouble. I want her on a plane to Moscow by the end of the fucking month like Pakhan said, even if you have to escort her all the way to his house yourself and hold her down while he fucks her.”

“You can’t be serious,” I retort, my anger getting the better of me. That’s my mistake.

I could avoid him but I don’t as his fist connects with my jaw, my head whipping to the side with the impact. Pain flares in my mouth and down to my neck.

“Shut your impertinent mouth. Do not question me. Go before I decide you’ve healed enough and are ready for your next training.”

As I leave my father’s house, I promise myself my latest session was my last, even if I have to kill the bastard with my bare hands.