Page 112 of Bratva Menace

He set two glasses down side by side and used the ice tongs to deposit four perfectly shaped ice cubes into them. He picked up a tall crystal tumbler next, pouring its contents into each glass. “I wondered if you’d ever grow the balls to confront me,” he said casually, making his way back over to me.

He was trying to shift it. Take control of the conversation. Wasn’t going to happen.

“Funny. I thought the same thing.” I leaned my elbow against the armrest and held my hand out. Sergei placed the glass in my open palm. “I wondered if you’d ever grow the balls to stop hiding behind others and come for me yourself.”

He chuckled. I waited for him to take a sip before taking one myself. I wouldn’t put it past the bastard to try and poison me. “What can I say? In my old age, I’ve been reluctant to get my hands dirty.”

“Can’t handle it anymore?”

“Oh, don’t worry, Dimitri. As my grandson would say, I can still throw down if I need to.”

Of that, I had no doubt. Sergei might have been old, but he was anything but frail and vulnerable. I knew he would never go down easily. That he would do everything he could to ensure that if he was going down, he would drag everyone else down with him.

“Speaking of my grandson, any luck in pinpointing his location?”

I scoffed. “Don’t pretend to care. It just wastes your time and mine, and my time is very valuable.”

“Are you saying mine is not?”

“Yes.”

He shook his head. “You know, I have to say, I do not appreciate this newfound level of disrespect you’ve been exhibiting toward me.”

“And I do not appreciate the fact that you had half a dozen of my own soldiers try to kill me in my own home, but, you know, shit happens.”

“You mean my soldiers. Do not forget, son, everything you have is because of me. I gave it to you, and I can take it back any time I want.”

I leveled a hard stare at him. That was only partly true. Yes, everything I had started with him, but he didn’t have the power to take it from me. Not anymore.

Sergei smiled broadly and sat back down behind his desk. He took another sip from his glass before putting it down. “I don’t know what you’re so upset about. You’re fine. They clearly failed, so no harm, no foul.”

“So, you admit it then? That you’re trying to kill me?”

“Aren’t you trying to kill me?”

There was no point denying it. He would see right through it. “Before Lukyan was kidnapped, yes. Now, my only focus is on finding my son.”

I didn’t even need him to say anything to know he was beyond dissatisfied by that. I’d grown up all my life seeing that look in his eyes. That slightly irritated expression on his face.

“That was always one of the things I was so disappointed in you about, Dimitri.” He picked up a thick brown cigar. “You allowed yourself to have such a pointless and futile weakness. Children are a means to an end. Nothing more. You have two other sons who can carry on the family name. Who cares about what happens to your youngest one? He’s the most expendable out of them all.”

“I care,” I all but growled out.

“Yes, you’ve made that abundantly clear. Another thing I’m incredibly disappointed in you about—broadcasting your weakness like that for the entire world to see. I raised you better than that.” He used a cigar cutter to remove the cap from the end, slicing it straight off. “Honestly, I have no idea where you inherited such a filthy trait from.” He pointed two fingers at me, the cigar balancing effortlessly between them. “You know what? I blame your mother. Such weakness certainly didn’t come from me.”

No. Only my raging paranoia, homicidal tendencies, and the ability to kill without a single shred of remorse came from him.

“We’re not going to talk about my mother. Not now. Not ever.” He wasn’t good enough to even speak her name. “We’re going to talk about me and you.”

“I’m not sure what else there is left to discuss. The moment I am able to dispose of you in a way that does not track back to me or make me look bad, I will. I no longer need you, and you have become nothing but a nuisance. You’ve done your part in furthering the Volkov line, and your contribution will be noted.”

“My contribution?” Fuck, I wanted to end him. I wanted to fucking eviserate him. I never wanted anything more in my life than to kill him right there and then, and the only reason I didn’t was because I knew he had someone watching. Someone ready to burst in at a moment’s notice and either save or avenge him. That was just the way my father worked. He planned for things sixteen moves ahead. Catching him off guard or unprepared was almost impossible, and as much as I despised it, I needed to watch myself. At least until we found Lukyan.

Then, all bets were fucking off.

“Yes,” Sergei continued. “Although minor, your contribution toward my legacy will be, as I said, noted.” He said it so casually. So blasé. Like it was a totally normal thing to say to one’s son.

“I think I contributed to it a lot more than you did, Father.”