Page 95 of Bratva and Betrayal: Kirill

* * *

Blood filled my mouth. I spat it across the dirty cement floor and at my father’s feet as another punch snapped my head sideways.

The warehouse blurred around me. The smell of diesel from dump trucks and rusted iron pipes filled my nose. Nothing distracted me from the pain. So much fucking pain.

Papa stood over me, breathing hard, his rings stained red from my blood. “You betrayed the brotherhood,” he roared.

A kick slammed into my ribs. I grunted but stayed upright on one knee.

“You humiliated me,” he snarled. “I present you with a suitable wife, and you secretly marry my accountant’s daughter, impregnate a little whore, and defy me publicly?”

From the table behind him, he grabbed a whip, snapping it to the floor in a sharp crack.

The whip. Used on traitors.

Drago grabbed his arm before Yuri could strike me with it.

“Pakhan,” he warned his father-in-law. “That’s your son.”

Adrian Chernov, Papa’s most lethal enforcer, shoved Drago away. Of course, Tamara’s father would be present to witness this.

“Thomas De la Vega handles your billions,” I shot back hoarsely, wiping blood from my mouth. “But his daughter isn’t good enough for me?”

The answer was a brutal strike across my back. Then several more.

“Papa, stop!” Ksenia cried out from somewhere behind us, but he ignored his daughter completely.

“She trapped you,” Papa hissed at me. “You stupid boy. She got pregnant on purpose. She wants your money. My money.”

Rage exploded through me so fast I saw black. “Fuck you, you’re wrong.”

I pulled the knife from my waistband and everything stopped.

My father stared at the blade for a long moment. Then at me. Maybe for the first time in his life, Yuri Volkov realized I was no longer afraid of him.

His nostrils flared before he finally stepped back. “You’ve betrayed me,” he snarled. “Betrayed the brotherhood. Go on, destroy yourself for her.”

Ksenia sobbed quietly in the shadows while blood dripped steadily onto the cement. But all I could think about was Sandrine.

Pregnant.

Waiting for me.

Drago went to help me up, but I swatted him away. My face a mess, one eye closed, broken nose, a lung possibly collapsed, I got to my feet.

Looking at my father, I growled, “Touch me again, and you will eat this knife.”

* * *

That same knife sinks into my father’s chest with horrifying ease. His eyes snap open. A wet choking sound leaves him as blood floods instantly over my hand.

“I warned you, Papa.” I stab him again. And again.

Years of rage rip loose inside me.

For Sandrine. How he treated her, spoke about her.

For Violet. How he never even held her.