AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Sokolov’s eyes turned pensive. “In the old days, this wouldn’t be possible, yes. A vor v zakone couldn’t have a family of his own. My brother should have listened, held on to the code. Then he wouldn’t have a murdered wife and fatherless children.”
Kristoff handed the man a cigar. “Times change, old man.”
Taking the cigar, Sokolov nodded.
Viking couldn’t agree more. Nothing was constant but change. Just look at him now. He had gone from a broke mechanic trying to pay for his dad’s medical bills to an underboss with more money than he could spend in a lifetime. He hadn’t thought his life would turn out this way. Once he’d been prepared to give everything up for Elena, but then she’d sold him out for a man who could provide her with everything he couldn’t. He remembered Giorgia telling him about the expensive gifts Morelli had bestowed on Elena during Viking’s incarceration. He never thought of her as someone who cared about those things, but she clearly had. In the end, it had been a good thing, or else he would’ve ended up like his old man, killing himself working to provide for a woman who would always be hungry for more. Good men like his dad always came last. ‘Cause life was shitty like that.
Once this deal was done, and he’d wiped Pedro Morelli off the face of the Earth, he’d have plenty of time to deal with Elena. Her day of reckoning was coming and no one was going to stand in his way.
A knock sounded on the door, then Baran entered. Viking didn’t like the grave expression on his face.
“We have a situation.”
He heard a yell outside in the corridor, a female voice filled with terror he recognized. He grabbed the arms of his seat, burying his fingers in the plush fabric. Running after Elena to check up on her was like putting a bull’s-eye on his ass.
Sokolov, like Kristoff, didn’t show any emotion. According to rumor, the man was an ex-Russian spy, and was probably trained to keep his expression in check.
“So, handle it,” he told Baran, leaning back.
“Your…little bird has fled her cage.”
“Then clip her wings and shove her back inside.”
Baran’s lips curled up. Whatever he was gonna say, Viking knew he wasn’t going to like it.
“I took care of that. But, sadly, before I could tie her up, she’d already clawed at a passerby. See, Vasili ruffled her feathers, so she broke a vase on his head. He’s bleeding like a stuck pig and is demanding…his pound of flesh, as retribution.”
Dread filled his stomach, followed by rage at Vasili who had dared to touch what was his. Then he started picturing how he was going to paddle Elena’s ass. Was the woman just looking for ways to screw him over? How the hell had she managed to pick a fight with the one person she should’ve fucking avoided? And what was she doing outside the bedroom, anyway? Did she honestly believe she could just walk out of here?
Viking rose from the chair and set his shot glass on the table. As he followed Baran, he couldn’t help but notice Kristoff and Sokolov trailing after him. More and more men saw him coming, making a wide berth as he passed them in the main hall and went into the common room. The tension in the room was palpable. In the middle of it sat the bane of his existence, the reason why he was sucked into drama in front of a Pakhan. Sporting a defiant look on her face, Elena sat perched on top of the coffee table. His eyes hardened when he saw her bruised cheek. Katya walked in holding what looked like a bag of frozen peas. She gave it to Elena, then turned her glare on Vasili who stood at the other side of the room. Blood coated his white collar, already turning it maroon. Between the women and Vasili’s crew stood Yuri with his own crew, outnumbering the Russians.
Viking gave Yuri a chin jerk. The man was loyal to the bone and always had their back. This wasn’t just about Elena. This was about respecting boundaries when you were a guest in someone’s home. It was about showing Vasili that this house, and everything in it, was Romanov territory. Baran strategically placed himself before Katya, shielding her from Vasili’s men, and reminding Viking of the other reason why the room was packed with their men. In a way, it was also to protect their new alliance, because if Vasili did something as stupid as lunge at Elena or touch Katya in any way, he was a dead man. Kristoff didn’t take prisoners. Neither would Viking, if anyone touched a pink hair on her head.
Vasili didn’t seem to get that. His mother must have dropped him on his head, for he uttered the words, “The suka made me bleed. I demand blood for blood.”
As was their way. In this case, it meant he claimed Elena’s. Viking tensed but knew better than to react. Elena couldn’t hide the fear in her eyes as she looked at him.
“What?”
Katya’s indignant stutter had Kristoff motioning at Baran. “Take her out of here.”
“I’m not going anywhere—”
Her words were smothered as Baran hauled her over his shoulder and carried her out of the room.
Viking waited for Kristoff’s ruling. As the leader, it was whatever he decided.
Kristoff looked him in the eye. There was a challenge in his gaze. “Blood for blood is our way. As such, Vasili has the right to demand his pound of flesh and blood.”
Elena looked oddly relieved. Then it hit him. She thought she’d get away with a simple flogging. He almost didn’t want to shatter her dream.
“She’s the mother of my child,” he reminded his friend. Except, right now, he wasn’t his friend. He acted as the leader of the largest Bratva on the West Coast.
“Regardless, she’s not blood,” Kristoff said. “Only wives fall under your protection and outrank a brigadier, if a woman isn’t blood.”
Like he needed a reminder. Everyone knew how it worked. It was the reason why Kristoff kept a short leash on Katya. Since she wasn’t his blood or wife, any man who had the balls could use her as a pawn against him, just to stir things up. Just like Vasili was doing with Elena. He could have her. Why did he even care? Wasn’t this exactly what he’d wanted, for her to suffer? Vasili would ride her hard. There wouldn’t be much left of her once he was finished with her.
An image of a teenage Elena appeared before him. The first time they’d met. How strong and scared she’d looked, holding her wounded dog in her arms after it had been abused by bullies. Her chin in the air, knife in her hand, she’d threatened to kill him first. So brave.
