Page 26

MATVEI

We walk into the smoky, dimly lit pool hall like we own the place.

Because we fucking do.

The moment I step inside, a ripple of awareness spreads through the room. Men like me don’t walk into places like this. I don’t belong here. At least, that’s what they think.

Conversations die. Cues hesitate mid-shot. The air is thick with the stench of stale beer and cigarette smoke, but beneath it is something far sweeter.

Fear .

Rodion winks at me, and I nod.

For once, he doesn’t bother with theatrics. Good. I want to get this over with. He steps up to the bartender, leans in, and wordlessly rips up his short sleeve, exposing the unmistakable mark of the Kopolov Bratva.

The bartender doesn’t hesitate.

His eyes go wide— too wide. His hands tremble as he looks at me.

I nod and roll up my own sleeve.

"Jesus Christ," he mutters, making the sign of the cross.

Then he slams his towel onto the counter and nods once.

"Clear the room."

It reminds me of the time I cleared the bar for Anissa, only this won’t be as sexy.

Men abandon their games. Drinks are left untouched. Laughter dies in their throats. The smarter ones don’t look back as they hurry for the exit.

The dumber ones hesitate.

They want to see if it's worth finishing their drink.

Rodion sighs and winks at me before drawing his gun. He cocks it, aims at the ceiling, and fires.

Bang .

The last stragglers run, pushing and shoving like rats in a flooding tunnel.

I narrow my eyes at Anissa’s attacker. “Not. You.”

Within seconds, only one man remains.

Yaroslav Solov.

The fucker barely looks up from his drink.

He’s about fifty years old. His bald head gleams under the single beer-stained overhead light. So heavy he has no neck, his beady eyes set deep in his thick, doughy face.

This is the bastard who hurt my woman.

And this is the fucker whose life is going to end tonight.

"What the fuck is this?" he sneers, rolling his shoulders, affecting an air of authority he doesn’t have. "Do you know who I am?"

I approach slowly, rolling my wrists and stretching my fingers. A man about to get to work.

"I know exactly who you are."

He scowls. "Then you know you just made a fucking mistake."

I grin, laughing darkly. "That’s what you think."

I tilt my head, my voice quiet and deadly.

"Anissa Laurent."

He freezes.

A beat of silence.

Somewhere behind the walls, I hear mice slithering and squeaking.

"What about her?"

"Funny thing," I murmur, stepping closer. "She’s mine now. And I know what you fucking did to her."

He blinks. His confidence wavers.

"I don’t know what the fuck?—"

"And you," I say, my voice low and cruel, my vision blurring with hatred, "are the motherfucker who hurt her."

He stands too fast. "I don’t know what you’re talking about."

Rodion snorts, pulling out his phone and flipping the screen toward him. It shows his three guards, knocked out cold and locked out of the bar.

Yaroslav's face pales. "What the fuck?"

I grab a pool cue off the table and smash it across his face.

The crack of wood against bone is deafening.

But no. That’s not enough.

I toss the broken cue aside and reach for a glass bottle instead. He tries to deflect, but it’s useless. With a swift, brutal motion, I bring it crashing down onto his skull.

Blood sprays.

He stumbles back, clutching his jaw.

I sigh, shaking my head, almost disappointed.

"You’d think they’d learn by now," I murmur to Rodion. "Just shut the fuck up."

But they never do.

They always have to say the same fucking thing.

And I always get to break them for it.

Yaroslav spits blood on the floor. His chest heaving, he tries to reach for me. “You fucking?—"

I don’t let him finish. I grab his collar and slam his face into the table. Once. Twice. Three times. And still, my need for blood is barely sated.

He fucking hurt her.

I can almost hear her crying, screaming, begging for forgiveness. This motherfucker is gonna hurt.

The wooden table is slick with blood when I finally let him go, letting him crumble to the floor, groaning and disoriented.

Round one. I win.

I kneel beside him, my voice smooth and calm. “Did you hit her first? Did you have one of your men do it? Or did you just grab her by the throat like a fucking coward?”

He moans something incoherent, blood bubbling at his lips.

Rodion doesn’t wait. He walks over and gleefully kicks him in the ribs. Hard.

This isn’t the first time we’ve beaten the shit out of somebody together. Somebody who deserved it.

Yaroslav chokes on a scream.

“I asked you a question,” I snap in a too-calm voice.

He curls in on himself, must’ve already figured out he’s a dead man. But still, he has the fucking audacity to say what he says next, a dying man’s last words. “She was a whore?—”

Rodion doesn’t let him finish. He delivers another brutal kick, this one to the spine. Yaroslav’s body jerks violently, and he screams.

I exhale through my nose, shaking my head, then press my heel to his chest, crushing him to the ground.

My hand moves to my belt, where the weight of my knife rests.

My phone buzzes.

Rodion’s foot pauses mid-strike.

I glance at the screen. Anissa .

Rodion smirks. “Perfect timing.”

I get off Yaroslav. Rodion takes my place, kneeling on the son of a bitch, a knife to his throat.

“Move, and I’m gonna slice you right here,” he says, tapping the tip of the blade right over the man’s heart. “That way, you bleed. Maybe even get to see a little of your own blood before I leave you for him. Unfortunately, this isn’t my kill to make.”

When I answer, my voice shifts—gentle, something softer.

“Everything alright?”

On the floor, Yaroslav whimpers.

Rodion sighs and stomps on his ribs to shut him the fuck up.

Anissa’s voice is trembling. “Hey. Everything’s fine. Cillian’s crazy.”

I lean against the table, eyes never leaving the battered form of the man who abused her. “What’s up, love?”

“I just… I need to talk to you when you get back,” she says softly. “I wanted to hear your voice.”

There’s something in her tone… hesitant. Fearful.

I don’t like it.

“I’ll be there soon, baby,” I say, my voice smooth, as if I’m not currently standing over the beaten body of the man who hurt her.

Rodion kicks Yaroslav again, and he hisses out a breath.

I press a finger to my lips, signaling for silence.

Anissa exhales. “All right. Just… be careful.”

I smile, warmth creeping into my tone. It’s for her that I’m here.

“Always, little witch. I’ll be home soon.”

Rodion looks over at me and shakes his head. “Wow.”

I end the call and don’t ask him to elaborate as I slip the phone back into my pocket.

A switch flips.

All softness is gone.

The predator is back.

Rodion cracks his knuckles. “Back to business?”

“We can’t prolong this. I need to get back to her.” I crouch beside Yaroslav, grab him by the throat, and squeeze just enough for panic to set in.

“Look at me.”

His swollen eyes flicker open, dazed.

I lean in, my voice low, deadly. “You put your hands on her. That was your first mistake.”

I pull my knife free, running the tip along Yaroslav’s jaw, not slicing through flesh. Yet.

“Your second…” I drag the blade lower, pressing it just under his sternum.

“Thinking you’d fucking get away with it, you son of a bitch.”

Yaroslav sobs, blood and snot running down his face.

“Please—”

I drive the knife into his gut. He howls.

I twist the blade. Slow. Precise.

I hurt him. I’ll kill him now. I’ll own this.

I watch the light start to fade from his eyes.

In a whisper, I deliver the final words he’ll ever hear.

“She’s mine now, you son of a bitch. Go to hell knowing that I don’t ever share.”

I twist the knife again.

“This is your payment for what you did to her. No one will ever hurt her again. Especially you.”

I pull the blade free, and Yaroslav chokes and gurgles. Blood splashes on my hands before I go still.

I wipe my knife on his shirt and stand.

Rodion exhales, cracking his neck.

“Well, that was satisfying. I think we were too easy on him.”

“Definitely. But I need to get home to her.”

I slip the knife back into place and pull out my phone.

Anissa is waiting. I left her safe, but I want to see her with my own eyes.

“I’ll call for cleanup. Let’s get you home to her,” Rodion says.

I nod and dial her number.

This time, she doesn’t answer.

The phone rings. And rings.

Why the fuck isn’t she answering? I just talked to her.

I pull up the security footage of my estate on my phone.

Everything looks normal.

I’m just about to shut it off when I see a car in the driveway.

Not mine.

I zoom in.

“Rodion, who the fuck is this?”

I call my head of security. He answers on the first ring.

“Sir?”

“I just tried to reach Anissa, and she didn’t answer. Is everything all right?”

“Yes, sir. Your mother is here for a visit. She said she couldn’t get the door to work, so I let her in.”

A chill skates down my spine.

I meet Rodion’s eyes.

He looks at me and stands up straight.

“The fuck?” he asks.

I changed the locks on my door so my parents wouldn’t get in but failed to tell security.

Shit.

As far as they know, my parents are allowed on my property.

And Anissa isn’t answering the phone.

Rodion shakes his head, and every piece of the fucking puzzle clicks into place.

Like a gun cocking.

My brother betrayed us.

But what if?—

What if he wasn’t the one behind it?

We have to get back.

Fuck.

I’m an hour out.

Fuck.

* * *