Now I had even more reasons to kill him without mercy.
Chapter 19 – Barbara
Sebastian’s face filled the screen, and the false warmth in his smile made my skin crawl.
I knew that smile. Had seen it a thousand times over the past five years, the one he wore when he was about to twist the knife deeper, when he wanted me to know he was enjoying my pain. It was the smile of someone who’d perfected cruelty into an art form.
“Barbara.” He said my name like we were old friends catching up. Like he hadn’t tried to kill me. Like I hadn’t bled out on a concrete floor while he confessed to murdering our mother. “I’m so glad to see you alive.”
The words were poisoned honey. Sweet on the surface, toxic underneath.
“I saw you on TV,” he continued, his eyes gleaming with something dark and gleeful. “My little sister and her Bratva fiancé. The society pages are going crazy. ‘Andrew Davis’s daughter marrying into organized crime.’ They’re eating it up. You two looked like a power couple from hell.”
I couldn’t speak. Couldn’t breathe. Kirill’s hand on my shoulder was the only thing keeping me upright, keeping me from collapsing under the weight of Sebastian’s voice, his presence, his existence.
“I thought I’d lost you,” Sebastian said, and for a split second, something that might’ve been genuine emotion flickered across his face. Then it was gone, replaced by that venomous smile. “When you didn’t die in that building, when I heard you’d been found and taken to a hospital, well, it seems God has other plans.”
“Stay away from me.” The words came out weak, trembling. Not the strong defiance I wanted to project.
“Oh, Babs.” He shook his head, still smiling. “I can’t do that. You see, we’re family. And family looks out for each other.” His gaze shifted, landing on Kirill beside me. “Speaking of family, you know your fiancé, right? Really know him?”
My stomach twisted. “What are you talking about?”
“I know him from back in the day. In Russia.” Sebastian’s smile widened, becoming something cruel and victorious. “Kirill Petrov. Bratva tech genius. Smart guy. Cold. Dangerous.” He paused for effect. “But not as smart as your big brother.”
The words hit me like physical blows. Russia. Back in the day. They knew each other.
I looked at Kirill, desperate for him to deny it, to tell me Sebastian was lying. But his expression, the way his jaw had gone rigid, the way his eyes had gone flat and deadly, confirmed everything.
They knew each other. Had known each other. Before me. Before any of this.
My mind raced, trying to piece it together. How? When? Why hadn’t Kirill told me?
Sebastian watched my realization with obvious delight. “Oh, he didn’t tell you? Didn’t mention that we’re old friends? Well, maybe ‘friends’ is too strong a word. More like”—he chuckled, the sound dark and venomous—“business associates. Though I suppose ‘con artist and mark’ is more accurate.”
“Sebastian,” I tried to cut him off, but he wasn’t done.
“I took him for millions, Babs. Millions of Bratva rubles. Made him look like a fool in front of his bosses. Nearly got him killed, actually.” He laughed again, and the sound made me want to throw the phone across the balcony. “Good times. Great memories.”
Kirill’s hand tightened on my shoulder, and I could feel the rage radiating off him in waves. Could feel how close he was to losing control.
“Now that you’re marrying into the Bratva,” Sebastian leaned closer to his camera, his expression shifting to something more calculating, “…tell me, Babs, why don’t you steal from them too? Continue the family tradition.”
“What?” The word came out strangled.
“Don’t worry. I’ll tell you an easy way to do it. I have experience robbing the Bratva, after all.” His laugh burst out, evil and gleeful. “Hell, I could write a book. ‘How to Con Russian Organized Crime and Live to Tell About It.’ It’d be a bestseller.”
“I’m not stealing anything.” I forced the words out past the panic rising in my throat. “I’m not. I would never, “
“No?” Sebastian’s expression hardened. “Then maybe I should send that video to your Bratva fiancé. Let him see exactly what kind of woman he’s marrying. Let Vladimir Orlov see what his protégé is tying himself to. Let all of Bratva know that their tech guy’s future wife is a—”
“Stop.” The word came out as a plea.
But Sebastian wasn’t stopping. Had never stopped when I begged. “A girl who kissed her stepbrother. A little slut who threw herself at me when she was sixteen. Who moaned when I—”
“Stop!” I screamed it this time, and my hands fumbled for the end call button.
My fingers were shaking so badly I almost dropped the phone. Almost couldn’t hit the right spot on the screen. But finally, finally, I managed it, and Sebastian’s face disappeared, leaving just my own reflection staring back at me in the darkened screen.
