“You will only weaken him.” He watches me for a beat that feels like a test. “And in our world, weakness will be what gets him killed.”
“I didn’t ask him to risk his life to protect me. He made that decision all on his own because he thought it was the right thing to do. You should be proud of him not angry or…jealous.”
For a second, something almost like amusement touches Gavriil’s mouth, and then it’s gone as he steps closer to me. He glances toward the bedroom again, the men behind me, and something else moves over his face. With Gavriil, every reaction is a weapon, even the ones that look like concern.
“Jealous? No. If I wanted you, I could take you right now.” He leans close enough that I feel his breath warm against the shell of my ear, and I hate the way my pulse answers before my mind does. “Shall I prove it to you,Alina?”
I meant he was jealous of Dominik’s bravery, not that his brother has me and he doesn’t. The fact that he interpreted it that way is immensely gratifying.
And does he mean take me as in he would physically remove me from the apartment or is he making a darker, more dangerous threat?
Either way, there’s something about Gavriil’s arrogance that makes my heart pound like crazy. He’s so damn sure of himself, and it’s as annoying as it is intriguing.
Was he always this way, or did something happen to turn him into the cold, narcissistic monster he is today?
A tiny, wicked, fear-drunk part of me wants to call his bluff. To see what happens when he makes good on his threat. I hold it inside though for Dominik’s sake. For those brief kisses we’ve shared that I know meant something to us both. More than they should have.
Survival teaches you how to switch masks fast; fear one moment, purpose the next.
“Dominik would never forgive you,” I state the obvious as I take two steps back to put more distance between us. I tell myself I shouldn’t say another word, that I need to keep my mouth shut, and stop provoking the savagePakhan. This man is the type to be cruel just because he can. He’s not someone I should bait. God, just the way he says my name with his harsh Russian accent is the biggest red warning flag that’s ever been waved in front of my face.
It’s one I choose to ignore when I add, “If you actually give a shit about your brother, you’ll want him to rest and recover today, not drag him into your dick-measuring contest.”
The words leave my mouth before my survival instinct can tackle them to the floor. For a heartbeat I swear I can hear my own pulse screaming,you’re dead, you’re dead, you’re dead.
I’ve never said anything so insulting to a man’s face before, much less to a Bratva boss. I brace myself for Gavriil’s retaliation.
He doesn’t say anything. He juststands there,his heavy silence pressing against my skin like a hand that hasn’t touched me yet. I still feel the heat of his breath at my cheek, steady and wrong. My body betrays me before my mind can catch up. My throat moves in a swallow I can’t stop.
His shrewd blue eyes flick down. He saw it and I hate that.
Shifting his weight, he studies me with an eyebrow raised as if he’s replaying my words in his head because he doesn’t believe he heard them come out of my mouth. I think I caught him off-guard, and he doesn’t look like a man who is ever surprised by anyone.
I’m stunned when Gavriil actually takes a step back and nods once. He’s offering me his agreement. It feels like the air sags in relief around us and my chest expands to twice its size in pride.
“Thank you,” I say, grateful he’s not in the mood to crush the world today.
Gavriil’s gaze slides toward the bedroom. His fingers brush the necklace around his throat hidden by his dress shirt. If I had to guess, it’s twin to Dominik’s. And for a moment, something shifts behind his expression. Not softness. Men like him aren’t made of that. But something sharper: worry, regret…a fracture in his armor.
It unsettles me more than any threat he’s made.
His voice, when it comes, is softer. “Do you think I like seeing him like this? He’s my little brother. It’s my job to keep him and all our men from ending up in an early grave.” It sounds like he carries the burden of responsibility alone on his shoulders. Gavriil looks down at his hands, flexes them once, as if he’s remembering the feel of something in them, against them when he used them to protect Dominik in the past. “He wouldn’t have a bullet wound or an infection if your brother had not decided to be stupid at the worst possible time.”
My jaw locks. “Archer?—”
“—sold our guns to fools,” he finishes, tone flattening like a door closing. “He took our money and bought himself a hole to hide in. And then,” he adds, cold blue eyes lifting to mine, “he sold a meeting place to those same idiots and made you and my brother a target in a rifle’s scope.”
The room tilts. “Archer wouldn’t…”
“He did,” Gavriil says. “Or someone he trusts did, which is the same thing.” The muscle in his bearded jaw moves once. “He will pay for that.”
“I know,” I whisper, because arguing with gravity is stupid. Tears burn a warning line at the edge of my vision. I blink them back, refusing to cry in front of the mob boss. “But he won’t pay through Dominik.” I lift my chin. “Don’t take your anger at my brother out on him.”
“I won’t,” he says, and there’s something steady in it that makes my knees want to give. Then the steadiness shifts back to steel again. “But I will take it out. On the thief. On anyone who helped him.” He looks back at me. “On anyone who lies to me about him.”
“I haven’t lied about anything,” I say, and I’m proud that my voice holds. “I didn’t know Archer was going to do any of this. If I had, I would’ve dragged him by his ear to your door and made him hand over the money myself.”
One of his dark eyebrows inches up. “That, I almost believe.”
