Page 40 of The Tsar’s Obsession (Bratva Sinners #1)
Did he tell you everything?
Mia
“I’m telling you; Carly and Ari are like a real thing now!
” Viv filled me in on the details as we braved the snowy sidewalk.
The delicate winter blanket was on the verge of melting, and I convinced her to meet for lunch to get a glimpse of the first really cold day.
“Also, please, for the love of God, don’t make me walk next time, Mia,” she huffed, and I giggled at how unprepared she was for the snow.
“You’re all about adventure and risk now, and I love that for you, but just Uber it next time. ”
I wasn’t all about adventure and risk. I just took a risk. One time. One risk—that one night with Kirill, and it turned out to be a life-changing one.
While Viv updated me on all the events of Carly and Ari’s relationship over lunch, my phone buzzed incessantly with texts from that one man, that one risk.
Kirill : Svet moy, you’ve been so busy at work, I barely see you.
That wasn’t true; we spent the whole weekend together, but it wasn’t enough. It was never enough.
Mia : That’s only because you show up at home at 3am. Join me in bed earlier tonight?
Kirill: I’ll pick you up from work at 5. Tell Viv I said hi.
How he knew I was with Viv, I had no idea. I hated that I loved his stalkerish tendencies.
Mia : Stalker
Kirill : Yuri’s waving hello somewhere.
"Hey, so does Kirill have, like, a hot murderer brother? For me, you know. I want to live the indulgent life you lead too.” Viv’s eyes shone like the oversized diamond studs she wore in her ears. She eyed me putting my phone away, no doubt criticizing my unhealthy attachment to this man.
I chuckled, knowing the full extent of Kirill’s lifestyle while Viv remained living in blissful ignorance.
“It’s not all that easy. Relationships are work, you know that.
” That was a blatant lie. For the first time ever, this relationship felt like a walk in the park.
It was easy. Effortless, uncomplicated, safe, indulgent—everything one would ever want.
"What? It's hard to hop on that big dick at the end of the day, or difficult to have him wine and dine you?
" Viv had zero filter, now speaking loud enough for the table next to us to hear.
“But seriously. Ask Kirill if he can set me up with what I like: rich, hot, well-endowed, not boring, great at eating pus—”
“Okay, okay! I’ll ask, Jesus! Send me a list of your requests.” Viv and I laughed at her dedication to her list of requests, which I was well aware of. She always seemed to find fault in the men she dated, and usually it was in the bedroom department.
“I just can’t do the long haul if there’s no passion and it’s boring between the sheets!
” The loud ding of the lunch crowd was no match for her energy.
“Even if he’s everything God intended, if he can’t fuck properly, then what’s the point in keeping him around?
But it’s usually the ones who fuck well that ghost you later, ugh!
” She stabbed her salad with her fork, sending all her frustrations into the motion.
She wasn’t lying. Viv had a few guys completely disappear on her after the best sex of her life. After that, she vowed to never ‘catch feelings,’ as she phrased it, and instead, spent her days ghosting anyone who didn’t meet all her expectations.
“I think you’ve taken enough sins onto your conscience with how you treat the men you date. How many of them are moping around you right now?” I pointed my knife at her, making sure she couldn’t escape answering.
With a small shrug and no ounce of shame, she admitted, “A few. None are long-term material. Not everyone meets their soulmate on a drunk night out and falls madly in love ten years later. Some of us live in the real world.”
And my real world caught up to me after the light lunch with my best friend. The real world I lived in showed up in the form of a manila envelope carefully placed on my desk during my absence.
Without thinking of what might be inside, I tore it open, still standing at my desk.
I should have sat down first.
A few pictures fell out. They were a little blurry and taken with an old digital camera, but they were clear enough to see.
Clear enough to know. Clear enough for me to recognize Kirill right away.
One, two, three—seven. There was a different woman with him in each one of the photos, and every single one was of him hugging, laughing, dancing, and kissing these women.
He was young, thinner, and drunk. One picture caught my eye where he was laughing with a young blonde girl, his arm slung around her shoulder as he pressed her into his chest. The girl didn’t look a day over eighteen, and he looked just like that young boy I met all those years ago.
My heart racing, I ripped open the envelope and snatched the white piece of paper, devouring the contents.
Mia, baby,
Did you know that ‘mia’ means mine in Spanish? Fitting, isn’t it? But have you ever stopped to think about who you really belong to?
Did he tell you everything? Did The Tsar explain what kingdom he’s dragged you into? A good, responsible girl like you should always do her research. Photos attached.
You might want to ask him about these girls. Ask him if he kept them around, or if he knows where their bodies are buried. Spoiler: he does. Because he’s the one who put them there.
You think The Tsar has only ever had eyes for you? Svet moy, look closer. Look into those big, pretty eyes and see that…you’re just his type, nothing more.
Where are all these good girls now, Mia? Did he tell you everything? Did he tell you how he stole their innocence? Did he tell you how they bled when they walked home? Did he tell you how each one was just a toy? Just something to be played with, until he broke them?
Your Tsar liked to rape, murder, and abuse young girls that all looked like you. He looked for young girls just like you. Beautiful, tall, sweet, innocent. And they all had long, gorgeous hair. Just like you.
Don’t you see the resemblance? Marina, Olga, Svetlana, Maria. Where are all these women now?
In a quiet whirlpool, devils roam. Those green eyes, Mia. Are they not a whirlpool that sucked you in?
It’s always the good girls who fall for him. He has that look, doesn’t he? The reluctant sinner. The man who could have been good if only life had dealt him a different hand. The one who prays, who reads, who stays up late just for you.
But how can he be good, Mia, if he built his empire on bones? On blood and bodies. On death.
But even if you’ve decided to look past all that. Even if you decided that love conquers all…I wanted you to know that you’re sleeping with a rapist.
You’re sleeping beside a man who fantasized and role-played raping and killing you.
So it’s your call, sunshine. Where would you like to end up? A simple lost memory, six feet underground? Because there’s one place you won’t be—beside him, wearing a crown.
He rules alone.
My body was crouched over my desk, frozen, and all of me was in deep disbelief. Feeling nothing and everything at once, I ripped the photos off the table and carefully looked over each one again.
It was definitely Kirill. Young, his hair shaved, dark circles under his eyes, or his pupils blown wide—it was him. Was this before or after I met him? His hands were on these women’s hips, his arms around them, his lips…on their lips.
This must’ve been a mistake! Not my Kirill. Not my man. But it was him in the photos. There was no denying it.
Wait, wait, wait. Wait. My logical brain was frantically trying to come online as my heart was threatening to burst out of me. What was this even? Who sent this?
Your Tsar liked to rape, murder, and abuse young girls that all looked like you. He looked for young girls just like you. Beautiful, tall, sweet, innocent. And they all had long, gorgeous hair. Just like you.
These women really did look like me. Long, dark blonde hair—they were all the same type as me. My thoughts were wholly arrested as I tried to make sense of this knowledge that fell into my lap out of nowhere. I had no words, no thoughts, just a nonstop hot buzzing everywhere in my body.
Rape. Murder. Abuse. Good girls. Just like you. The Tsar.
Did he tell you everything?
The thud of my own pumping blood deafened me. My eyes found the letter, and I read it again, and again, and again . Whoever wrote this mentioned the word ‘I’ only one time; everything else was impersonal. What did they even want? Just to spew dirt on him?
Doubt ballooned inside me. I slumped back in my chair and finally let out a shaky breath, and with it, my tears. Fuck .
Did he tell you everything? Replayed in my head on a loop.
There was no real reason to believe any of these words. But besides all the accusations, there was one very valid point, and I couldn’t stop thinking about it: how could Kirill be good if he did what he did?
I had seen it. I’d seen him kill a man. I knew what he was involved in; he had no mercy. None. What would stop him from raping a woman in the past?
He was good to me. But he was bad…to everyone else.
A thousand thoughts rushed into my head. What should I have done? Asked him if he’d ever raped a woman? Why would he tell me the truth?
Just like you.
Kirill loved me; he did. I knew it; I saw it…I felt it with everything inside me. He and I were meant to be!
So how could everything about him become questionable in one second? Did I really have any reason to believe this slander? My mind oscillated between complete disbelief and taking these words as gospel.
The winter wind howled outside, matching my foul and furious mood. No. No, I couldn’t believe these words. I loved Kirill, end of story.
But did that mean that everything he had done in the past didn’t matter? It did.