Page 123 of Bratva and Betrayal: Kirill

“I don’t check emails, Pakhan,” he says, his voice surprisingly strong. “Where do you expect me to go?”

I turn back around and offer him a perfectly cruel smile. “Chernov, you’re not going anywhere. You’re staying right here. I’m sure other brotherhoods will send men to challenge us.”

The room breathes again, and I acknowledge the tribunal.

“All of you. Get cleaned up.” I hold out my bloody hand. “Tend your wounds. Collect your wives from the party and report to your assigned locations.”

They move in a tight formation, shifting from ritual to aftermath in seconds.

Then I look at Chernov. “Go home. Wait for your next assignment.”

Head held high, Chernov leaves without another word. I don’t miss how the men hang back and let him leave first.

And wonder if I will end up paying for letting him leave here alive.

I step out of the cold and into the vestibule, already missing the icy chill. Drago and I take the stairs shoulder to shoulder back down to the ceremony room.

“Very powerful, Pakhan,” he says, not addressing Chernov. “Your grandfather would be proud.”

“Will they pull it off?” I ask the only man who will ever see my uncertainty.

“Your vision is powerful.”

Power. I need a son. Maybe two. Maybe three. Heirs ensure strength and continuity. This brotherhood will not be taken from my line. No one will crush me.

I head back toward the guests. The noise hits with full force again, a chorus of music, voices, and glass clinking. But it all fades the second I see my wife.

Sandrine sits at the head of our table, Ksenia beside her, and a few other wives gathered around in conversation. Violet is curled in my wife’s lap, asleep, her small body slackened with a happy grin on her face. A vision I dreaded I’d never see. Maybe I won’t send Violet to boarding school.

Like Sandrine can sense me, our eyes meet across the room.

Carnal urges move through me, dark and immediate. They consume me. Heat coils in my groin before I can stop it. It’s not just the memory of her opening for me, spread for me. It’s who she is now. What she survived to get here.

And I still want her even more.

I cross the space with powerful steps. The crowd parts, kicking up my adrenaline. At the table, I place a hand on Sandrine’s shoulder, and bend a kiss to Violet’s head.

Then, in her ear, I whisper, “This coronation is over.”

She rises gracefully, saying good night across the table. I follow her out of the ceremony room, my eyes everywhere.

Smiling that Tamara is long gone.

On the walk back to our wing, Violet remains curled against Sandrine. The vision weakens me. But no one will see me like this. Only my wife.

In the residence corridor, Nadia is there doing an extra shift. “Pakhan,” she says, bowing.

“Get my daughter ready for bed,” I instruct the nanny.

Sandrine looks up, Violet’s head tucked under her neck.

I step forward and take my daughter, bearing my brutal needs for a moment. “You’re mine tonight, Madam Volkov.”

I place Violet in the nanny’s arms, and she carries my daughter away from me. I don’t want to be a father right now. I want to be a husband.

A husband who will fuck his wife all night.

Chapter 39