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Kyril

“ S omewhere else?” Thea asked before yawning. She looked shattered. It was time for bed. When she was less tired, I planned to have a conversation with her about why she thought she’d be dead by next July. The only person who’d be dead was that fucking psychopath who worked for Francesco di Luca.

“I’m looking at properties.” Cassian refused to say anything else, so after a few minutes of prodding, Thea gave up, leaned into me, and closed her eyes. The guys all looked at us with a mixture of jealousy (Dario and Lan) and understanding (Cass and Milo).

None of us addressed the elephant in the room. Namely, that Thea assumed her days were numbered.

“Time for bed, kitten,” I murmured as Cassian refilled his shot glass and swiped away at his phone.

She didn’t protest when I scooped her up into my arms. I still couldn’t believe she’d never had a birthday party. Even I’d had them as a kid. Dad wasn’t the most loving of fathers, but he had tried to make it a fun day for me when my mother was still alive.

We’d had a cake, gifts, and he let me invite a few friends over. The kids whose parents worked for him, people who wouldn’t question the presence of armed guards everywhere.

Thea deserved everything I could give her. I had money. Lots of money. But I was beginning to realize material things meant nothing to her.

While she’d grown up with very little, she didn’t crave pretty dresses and shoes, fancy jewelry, or expensive cars. What she really wanted was to feel loved.

That I could do.

I’d had a few crushes when I was younger. My first kindergarten teacher, Olga, was my first. And Miss Balakin in high school. I’d always looked forward to her political science lessons, thanks to the tight gray skirts and white blouses she favored.

But those childish crushes were nothing to how I felt about Thea.

I loved her. Truly, madly, deeply. And I had a strong suspicion Landon felt the same way.

We were both nuts about the woman. I was crazy enough about her to go against my father, who was probably losing his shit right now at my ghosting him. Well fuck the old bastard. I fucking deserved a break from mafia shit.

And more to the point, there was no fucking way on this planet I needed to spend another Christmas with my pedo stepmother.

She was lucky she wasn’t dead after last year’s bullshit.

12 months earlier

“I’ve been waiting for you, lyubimyy,” Ekaterina said in a husky voice when I strolled into my bedroom, drunk as a skunk.

Vodka sloshed around in my stomach as I stared at my naked step-mom, lying on my bed, her legs spread and her tits perched like beach balls on her chest. How my father found her attractive was beyond me. The woman was faker than the cheap Gucci handbags Ivan Kovic flogged to babushkas down in the local market.

“Get out.” Ekaterina just smiled. She wasn’t going anywhere willingly. I grabbed her ankle and yanked her off the bed, enjoying the way she squealed when her head hit the floor.

“I’ll tell your father!” she shrieked in rage. “Tell him you tried to seduce me, his beloved wife!”

I snapped. Years of her bullshit finally broke me. I’d been 14 when she first laid her hands on me. Small touches at first. Welcome touches for a kid starved of physical affection. It soon progressed. By the time I was 16, she’d taken my virginity.

At first, I loved it. The thrill of fucking a woman, someone who knew what she wanted and would do anything I asked. All my fantasies brought to life. But it wasn’t long before she grew more demanding. And jealous of any other female I showed an interest in.

When I started seeing a local girl, Irina, Ekaterina went nuclear. Threatened to tell my father I’d raped her. Then, when I refused to take her seriously, she targeted Irina.

Irina and her family perished in a fire a week later.

Although I could never prove it, I knew the whore was responsible. The small smirks and subtle jibes when Dad wasn’t around cemented my suspicions. When I confronted her, she just laughed.

“I did you a favor. You’re a bratva heir. A girl like that was never for you.” Ekaterina sniffed contemptuously. “A common little whore, from peasant stock.”

“If you touch me again, I’ll kill you.”

She turned pale and backed off for a while, but it wasn’t long before it started again. The touches, comments, and constant messaging.

Dad was oblivious. He thought the sun shone out of her ass, which was baffling to me. He’d always been an astute man. Cunning. But Ekaterina arrived not long after my mom passed. I strongly suspected she saw an opening and grabbed it with both hands.

The bitch was nothing if not manipulative.

By the time I found her in my room, naked, last Christmas, I’d had enough. The fact she was in my room told me she’d dropped a pill in Dad’s drink. It was her favorite ploy. The old bastard had no fucking idea his beloved wife had been drugging him for months.

I’d have laughed if I wasn’t so disgusted, and it was becoming increasingly clear to me he had lost his edge. Unfortunately, I wasn’t the only one who’d noticed.

There were rumbles of discontent among a few of the men. People were unhappy about Ekaterina’s influence. It was almost time for me to step up, but not yet. I wasn’t quite ready.

I was ready, however, to put an end to Ekaterina’s bullshit.

She squealed louder still when I dragged her across the floor by her hair. None of the servants came running. They all hated the bitch. She tried to scratch me with long, acrylic nails, but it was like swatting a mosquito.

“Your father will kill you,” she sneered when we reached the bedroom door. Anton stood outside. He glanced at me and then Ekaterina.

“Need me to deal with her?” He showed no emotion whatsoever.

“Nope, she’s my problem tonight.”

The alcohol buzz had long since faded. Our mansion was half empty, the guests long gone, with a only few glasses left strewn around the hallway as I dragged a screaming Ekaterina outside into the snow.

If I left her here, she’d likely freeze to death. It was a tempting thought.

“Last chance, cyka. Leave me the fuck alone or you die. Are we clear?” I loomed over her and she whimpered. What had I seen in her? It was hard to remember now.

All I’d wanted was some affection, but she took and took, and then took some more. Groomed a vulnerable boy, manipulated him. She was pure evil.

“We could be good together. Powerful!” She clung to my leg, her skin turning blue from cold. “Let me rule by your side. Your father is weak, old, but you…” Her eyes raked over my chest, sinking lower, lingering on my dick. “You’re strong, virile.” The way she licked her lips made my skin crawl. “Everything a pakhan should be.”

I knelt down in front of her, curious about where this was going.

“And what about my father? He’s still pakhan, and he isn’t about to step down anytime soon.” Even if he should.

Ekaterina looked up eagerly. “I can deal with him. Make it look like an accident. Then we could be together, lyubimyy!”

My fingers slid around her throat as I leaned in, noting how her pupils dilated with excitement. The sick bitch got off on this kind of thing. She loved it when I squeezed her throat during sex.

“You think you can rule by my side? Give me an heir?”

“Yes! I’m still fertile, lyubimyy!”

The lying whore. She’d had her tubes tied years ago.

“Hmm…” I pretended to consider it as snowflakes floated down from a black sky. It was cold enough to freeze hell out here, but Ekaterina was oblivious, too caught up in her delusions. “No.”

It took a moment for my reply to register. “No?” she repeated.

“No, cyka, you won’t be ruling by my side. When I become pakhan, I’ll choose a young bride, someone who can bear my children. A woman who’ll be loyal to me. Not a barren whore who’ll fuck anything that moves and then stab me in the back.”

Ekaterina shrieked as my words sank in. She fought to free herself, but I gripped her harder, enjoying the way her eyes bulged as it dawned on her that she’d played her hand and lost.

Nails scraped my skin, but she was weak, and the cold had stolen most of her energy. The moment she passed out, I dropped her in the snow. Lurid purple bruises stained her neck. For a moment, I admired my work. She’d have fun hiding the bruises tomorrow. Dad would be suspicious, but Ekaterina would no doubt smooth things over like she always did.

Anton appeared at my back. “I’ll take her back to her suite,” he said. “Wipe the cameras, too, in case she wakes up with revenge in mind.”

“Good idea.” I honestly hadn’t thought of the repercussions of throttling my dear stepmother half to death, which was stupid. While I hoped my father would take my side, there was a possibility he’d believe her over me, and punish me accordingly.

I suspected he knew something, which was why he’d sent me to Abernethy. Getting me out of the way was easier than admitting to himself his wife was a traitorous whore. Although the old bastard had well and truly fallen under her spell, he wasn’t completely blind.

“Keep a copy of the footage. I might need it one day.”

Anton nodded and then slung an unconscious Ekaterina over his shoulder while I headed back to my room to pack. It was time to leave. Dad could draw his own conclusions when I failed to appear at breakfast in the morning.