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Chapter 17

Matilda

I take a step back, my heart pounding.

“What the hell was that?”

Vasily is already moving toward the bed.

“Kevin. Look at me.”

His voice changes completely. It’s quieter, controlled, almost gentle as he tries to coax the boy back down. Kevin’s eyes remain fixed on me, wide with something I don’t understand.

I don’t know him. I’ve never seen him before in my life.

At least, I don’t think I have.

Court cases from the city flash through my mind. Gangs recruit young members. Was he a victim, maybe? The family member of a victim?

“Vasily.”

His arm wraps around my waist.

“Come.”

“What?”

The Pakhan doesn’t wait. He practically hauls me into the hallway, shutting the door behind us before I can protest. The second we’re alone, I twist out of his grip.

“What the hell is wrong with you?”

“Who are you?”

The question hits me like a slap.

“I told you who I am.”

“Don’t lie to me.”

“I’m not!”

Vasily Borisov takes a single, menacing step forward, and in that moment we’re not just a man and a woman arguing. He’s a Bratva Pakhan, and I’m the woman he’s kidnapped. The power shift is immediate and terrifying.

“That boy looked at you like he’d seen a ghost.”

“Maybe because he’s traumatized!” My chest is rising and falling rapidly; it feels like I can’t catch my breath with him towering over me. The five o’clock shadow looks like smudged dirt across his sharp jaw, his eyes boring into mine.

“He was terrified.”

“Yes, Vasily. I noticed.” I shove a hand through my hair, trying to make sense of what just happened. “I don’t know why he reacted that way.”

His eyes narrow. “Think.”

“I am thinking.”

“Then explain it.”

“I can’t.” I hate how weak that admission sounds, and the shot of fear it sends through me. Trying to rally every inch of defense lawyer I have left. I add hotly, “Maybe it’s because he’s been beaten half to death by people involved in the same criminal world you’re so comfortable living in.”