Page 147 of Bratva and Betrayal: Kirill

“For her birthday, Daddy.” She shakes me to divert my attention.

The birthday party.

Sandrine’s eyes close and she stands up, holding herself in the middle. But she says nothing. That silence tells me everything I need to know. She defied me. She…betrayed me.

I speak, each word tight and measured. “I specifically told you to bring Violet home. No birthday party. This is why.”

Violet’s arms tighten around my waist as she jumps up and down.

“Don’t yell at Mommy!” she cries, her voice breaking. “She’ll get sick again and leave.”

I’ve been stabbed and shot at defending this Bratva. Violet’s worry that Sandrine will leave again drives a stake straight through my ribs and carves out my fucking heart. She isn’t afraid of me. She’s terrified of losing her mother again.

Ksenia appears in the doorway before I can react.

“Solnyshko, let me help you get cleaned up,” my sister says, arm stretched. “Let Mommy and Daddy talk. Grown-up stuff. It doesn’t concern you, little sunshine.”

Sandrine snaps out of her trance and lifts Violet again. “No. I’m doing her bath. Kirill, you and I will talk later.”

I watch Violet cling to her mother, fingers wrapping around the back of her neck as she’s carried off to the bathroom.

I’m dying inside, watching the door slam shut.

I wanted Sandrine here. I needed a mother for my daughter. I needed a wife to take my place as head of the Volkov Brotherhood. I didn’t know how it would feel to share her with Violet. How it would feel to be so angry and so in love at the same time. To watch what I say to Sandrine in front of Violet, fearing I’ll emotionally scar her for life, like I’m scarred watching my father abuse my mother.

Violet never gave up that I would find her mother. Not really. Not with the stories I gave her. The careful lies about a mother who was someplace far from us, not lost, not dead. But living in a magical realm trying to find her way back to us.

Now she’s here, in our lives. But I’m clearly not over my hurt and betrayal of her leaving me when I asked her not to.

“Ksenia, come with me to my private office,” I say to my sister, who needs a briefing on this abduction. “We have to find who did this.”

I walk to the bathroom door and give a gentle knock. “I’ll be back,” I say and then leave, closing the bedroom door.

My sister follows me to my private office in silence. Once I get inside and turn to her, she cracks her hand across my face, snapping all other thoughts cleanly in half.

“What is wrong with you?” she demands, her voice low but furious.

The smell of copper blooms in my nose. Before I can say anything, one of my house guards has his weapon halfway to Ksenia’s fucking head. The poor bastard looks torn apart by the decision, his loyalties shredded.

“Get the fuck out,” I bark at the guard, the command cutting through the tension like an axe.

He disappears instantly, and I lock the door behind him. Ksenia and I have spouses, but we still share a bond that I refuse to let be broken or tarnished. Smacking me in the face, however, is unacceptable.

“If you ever strike me again…” I start, my voice rough and edged with darkness.

“What?” she challenges me when I can’t finish. “My husband is your enforcer.”

A growl builds in my chest, but she doesn’t back down.

“You need to get a hold of yourself,” she says, her tone softening and growing steadier. “You were being unreasonable. You announced your wife was home. You showed her off to all of Chicago. It was only a matter of time before someone would challenge the peace.”

I stare at my sister, breathing hard through my bloodied nose, the anger softening with her words of wisdom and reality.

“Sandrine asked me if she could take Violet to a strange house for a birthday party,” I explain my position. “I told her no. She defied me. Went with the woman to an ice cream parlor instead. One that wasn’t vetted ahead of time.”

“Violet is allowed to have friends,” Ksenia says. “To go to birthday parties. When that stops, the enemies have won.”

The words settle into me whether I want them to or not, digging in beneath the anger.