Page 47 of The Tsar’s Obsession (Bratva Sinners #1)

Angel of Chaos

Mia

Bloody March morphed into April, bringing with it the spring rain. As if hoping it would wash away the blood I saw in front of my eyes, I would stare out the window for hours, meticulously going over all the details of that evening.

Dmitry was with me on this couch, the one in our home, a few steps away from the kitchen where Francesco met his death when he uttered that phrase.

Maybe you should ask more questions before you find yourself running away barefoot with bloody hands.

What a twisted coincidence. It’s like he knew, like he foresaw the future. He turned out to be right—if I chose to be with Kirill, I should have been prepared for anything. Kirill’s world was slowly infiltrating our life. Insidious and unstoppable.

The marble countertop sparkled once more, and in Francesco’s place was an older woman—cooking, cleaning, and tending to all of my boyfriend’s whims.

People are replaceable, no matter what they do, no matter who they are. The fragility of our existence was weighing heavier on my mind with each passing day. Francesco’s murder and Polina’s limbo between life and death had become a never-ending source of anxiety .

Polina wasn’t waking up. She was breathing, alive in a technical sense, but her eyes remained closed. She hadn’t drifted into consciousness even once in an entire month. No one could explain why. The doctors said she should have regained awareness by now, yet she remained lost in oblivion.

What if I was next? When would I be next?

Running away barefoot, with blood on your hands.

That’s exactly what happened. So much blood on my hands, and we were running.

Running away from our home, our life, and our little fairytale straight into chaos.

My little fairytale that I made up because I didn’t want to face and admit the reality that I was sleeping with a man whose secrets were deep, dark, and hidden.

A man who was the shadow that overpowered everything.

That shadow woke me up every morning with kisses made in heaven.

Was he a shadow, or was he an angel? Even Lucifer was an angel once.

My dark angel, my angel of chaos, would touch me as if I were made of Venetian glass.

He was delicate with each one of his caresses.

Soft. His strong and large fingers ghosted on the skin of my shoulder, barely touching, careful not to disturb.

His lips, the ones that whispered dirty promises and the most heavenly praise and words of affection, landed on my neck and passed on that passion, that devotion, that love that he had. Just for me.

Just for me.

Just for me.

A love like we had blinded me to everything around. Every sin, every transgression, every past mistake.

His unforgettable eyes focused only on me when we spent quiet and private moments tangled up underneath the sheets. Kirill was usually up before sunrise—work-out, work; he never cheated on his schedule, except today. Today he kept me close, gorging on whatever unbreakable bond connected us.

“Do you want to go away for a few weeks? Before my big meeting? And then we can do something for your birthday, like take a big trip? Is there anywhere you’ve always wanted to go?

” He moved a strand of my hair out of my face, the morning light from the window giving him a divine glow. My dark fallen angel.

“Yeah." My reply fell off my smiling lips effortlessly. “Let me think about it. Somewhere warm and sunny?” I proposed, and he nodded with his eyes closed and his lips on mine.

One hour, two hours, the morning stretched into a lazy haze even though both of us needed to get to work.

His hands glided over my robe as he stood at the door before leaving, unable to tear himself away from me and I from him.

“I don’t want to go,” he confessed quietly in my ear. “I just want to stay with you. Forever. Just with you, just like this.” His hot lips marked my neck with haste. “I’ll pick you up from work earlier today. I love you.”

It was in the air. Both of us were unnerved by what transpired in our home, and while he didn’t want to admit it, he compensated by keeping me close at all hours of the day and night. And I ate it all up.

Reluctantly, I showered and got ready, having changed outfits twice. I searched for my watch to finish my outfit and pulled out our jewelry drawer, running my hand on the bottom of it. Once, twice, I didn’t find the watch, but something else caught on my finger.

A shiny gold chain. I hadn’t seen it before.

It wasn’t mine, and Kirill only ever wore his cross, having no other jewelry except his extensive watch collection.

It sparkled so brightly in the morning light.

I studied it for a few seconds, and slowly, slowly, and then all at once, I recognized that pendant.

It was a menorah.

This was Ari’s chain. The chain that he never took off. The chain that peeked out of his shirts, the ones that were unbuttoned a little too much. He never took the chain off. Until one evening late in August when he was robbed…and beaten, left to die in a dark alleyway.

A choked gasp ripped from my throat. My legs refused to move, my eyes forgot to blink, and my mind furiously put the pieces of the puzzle together. Kirill was responsible for what happened to Ari.

I staggered back and plopped down on our huge bed, the mattress providing the only support I could rely on after this earth-shattering revelation.

Hot, angry tears poured down my cheeks as I stared at this sparkly chain, an undeniable piece of evidence of Kirill’s heinous crime.

Of the trauma he inflicted on innocent, unsuspecting people.

No. No, no, no, not my Kirill, not the man I loved. Please . I begged for it all to be a lie, for this chain to swiftly disappear out of my hands as if this weren’t reality but simply a bad dream.

But there was no other explanation. No other reason why Kirill would have this.

This chain was stolen when Ari was attacked.

Attacked by the man I loved, shared secrets with, gave all of myself to.

The man who promised he never lied, promised to protect me with his life, promised I was his sunshine, his light, his woman, his, his, forever his!

I couldn’t take a breath in. I had nothing in my lungs to breathe out. My vision spun.

Did he tell you everything?

The words from that letter rushed back to me, placing everything we had into jeopardy. No. Kirill didn’t tell me everything. Lies and truth had no meaning in Kirill’s world.

The chain scorched my palm, and I could only focus on one thing: he lied. He lied, he lied, he lied , pumped in my head with the rhythm of my blood.

In one second, the sweet memories in my mind twisted and burned. In one second —they were all broken and empty.

Everything between us felt hollow, stripped of the warmth and light I had come to associate with him.

How could he do this? How could he tell me he never lied to me when he hid a monumental one?

Ari was a coworker, a friend, and a part of my life, no matter how annoying.

I had known Ari for way longer than I had known Kirill.

The seconds ticked, and I descended further and further into a spiral of all the wrong choices I thought I had made. Bitter tears poured down my cheeks once I slumped back on the bed, all of me shuddering with the severity of what I’d just found out.

I thought back to Christmas and how talented Kirill had been at presenting an image my father wanted to see.

He was a phenomenal actor, a master manipulator.

He played me like a fucking fiddle. Bursting into my life, he usurped all my attention and energy, hungrily feasting on all of me, trapping me, and presenting me with a mirage.

He was the mirage. Was it all a facade? How could he look into my eyes and tell me I was the only one in his life— the love of his life —if he could do something like that to my friend, to me?!

I didn’t want to have any conversations about it. I didn’t want to forgive. I knew that there was only one correct choice. I looked around the home we shared and realized that nothing here was really mine. It was all ours. And I wanted nothing to do with him anymore.

I dropped the chain in the pocket of my trench coat, grabbed my purse, and walked out to my driver.

"Take me to see him!" I almost barked at Ilya, the man who had been my driver for months, but to my dismay, he began protesting, stirring the fury inside me even further. “Take me to fucking see him, or I will shoot you with your own gun! Go! Now!”

Jarred at my own words, I knew that I would never have spoken this way in the past. Kirill had changed me.

The young man put up his hands as if to say he capitulated and started the car.

With every passing mile, my wrath increased.

Every second brought me closer to the end.

Memories of our time together swirled inside my mind, a new one playing every few seconds.

Everything we’d lived through. Everything! He lied through it all!

A mere half hour later, Ilya pulled into a small alleyway in Harlem, the building nondescript and bland. I’d never been here before, and now it all made sense. Of course, why would Kirill share that part of his life with me? Just another secret, just another tidbit to leave out.

The little iron plaque beside the front door read: Feldman it was too much, too painful.

Tears burst from my eyes. Uncontrollable.

"I was going to tell you, okay? I just couldn't find the right time," he called out to me quietly and took a few steps closer.

The right time?!

"He had to have reconstructive nose and teeth surgery, Kirill! His shoulder was dislocated, he had broken ribs, he was on morphine for weeks! How could you do this?! What the fuck?! What the fuck were you thinking?! Why, why would you do this to him?!"

I was out of control. I couldn’t stop yelling, I couldn’t stop crying. I was so incredibly distraught and broken. How, how could he do this?!

Not having the balls to look me in the eyes, he reached out to grab my hands, but I ripped them out of his grasp at once.

“Don't you fucking dare touch me! You will never touch me again! You're a fucking psychopath! And a liar! And I'm the biggest idiot in the world because I fell for you!” My entire body shook with my sobs, and it was both cathartic and gut-wrenching. Ari’s chain was still in my hands, a bright reminder of Kirill’s crime .

Over. Everything was over, broken, shattered. The pain in my heart was real, sharp, and overpowering. Hot tears clouded my vision; bitterness and regret stuck somewhere in my throat.

“Mia…” That gentle voice that I had grown to love called out to me, his touch so tender on my shoulders.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Sunshine, there isn’t–” He broke off, searching for the right words.

“There wasn’t a time…I kept putting off telling you.

” My eyes zoned in on the man in front of me, looking like a lost puppy.

“I deeply regret having done that. Please, Mia. "

I finally understood who was in front of me. A ruthless killer. How could he be good if he did what he did? He was all rotten. I lived in some kind of delusion that maybe his violent actions were restricted to those I didn’t know. Restricted to the ‘bad’ people of his world. But he was bad too.

Having found real evidence of his attack on someone who was in my life jerked me awake and screamed the truth in my face: Kirill was not a good man. And he was dragging me into his world, bit by bit, inch by inch, until it would be my turn to experience his wrath.

I wiped my tear-streaked face with trembling hands, my body recoiling from his presence. The man I loved. The man I didn’t know at all.

“Did you do it?”