Page 146 of Bratva and Betrayal: Kirill

I straighten before she can move, before anything can blur the lines I need to keep intact.

“Violet. On your feet, sweetie,” she says. “Mommy can’t lift you into the car.”

“Okay.” She slides down her mother’s body.

Sandrine gets in, and Violet climbs in after her. I grab the booster seat from the cargo area and secure it in the center position. Violet waits patiently while I buckle her in.

I have no idea what we’ll face when we leave here. Whatever happens next, my daughter will be secured properly.

I close the rear SUV door myself. The click gives me only a fraction of the peace that comes with being behind armor. We still have to get out of here, and I don’t know if we’ll be ambushed.

As we pull away, Drago does something I’ve not seen him do in years. He opens his window and sits on the frame, his gun pointed out at darkness, at nothing. Christ, he’s exposed. He’s risking his life for me. For my family.

As he should, but he’s also my sister’s husband, and that changes my perspective on how I feel about the way he’s personally guarding my family with his life.

I say nothing. This is the life he chose. My sister knew the risks as well.

Shaking that away, I notice the interior is silent except for the soft, uneven rhythm of Violet’s breathing. Her head is tipped toward my wife, who doesn’t look at me. She stares down at our daughter.

There’s so much I want to say, but I let the silence hang heavy and deliberate.

Because if I start talking now, my control will snap.

Chapter 48

Kirill

The car reaches the road, and seeing Drago slip back inside, I relax. I don’t recall much of the drive back to Iron Keep. The mansion rising in the distance unclenches a few taut muscles in my neck.

No one followed us, no one else shot at us.

Before the car has even stopped, Sandrine has unbuckled Violet. My wife slides out, and when Violet is out of the car, her mother lifts her, carrying my daughter into the house. I watch her chin rest on Sandrine’s shoulder. Her sad eyes lock on mine. I’m not sure if my daughter is focused on me or staring into space. But I’m focused on her. And her mother.

“Drago,” I say as we step inside the kitchen. “Kill the driver. He wasn’t supposed to stop for fucking gas. At a fucking random gas station. The tank was more than half full. He had to have been in on the abduction, too.”

I would torture him myself for information, for a confession. To know for sure that I’m not killing an innocent man. Those were the old days.

Drago’s lips set in a harsh line. “Yes, Pakhan. I’ll do forensics to look for strange payments.”

I don’t watch him leave. I march deeper into the house and up the stairs straight to Violet’s room.

Sandrine sits on her bed and has already stripped her of her school uniform. They’re singing. They’re coping.

“She should have a bath,” I interrupt.

“I’m already running one,” Sandrine answers quickly, her voice still rough around the edges. “I got it.”

“It’s my night.” My voice jolts as Violet stomps over to me.

“Don’t fight,” she murmurs, hugging me.

“Let Aunt Ksenia finish getting you cleaned up. I have to talk to Mommy.” I look down at her sad eyes.

I don’t know how a child of five knows that what happened today is a failure of the security she’s had since birth.

“It was my fault, Daddy,” she says, pulling on my jacket. “I had to go to the bathroom. I should have gone in the ice cream parlor with Emily. I thought I could hold it.”

“Who’s Emily?” I turn just enough to look at Sandrine over Violet’s shoulder.