“How do you want to handle this?” Pyotr asks.
My emotions get the better of me and make my decision. “Scorched-earth style.”
“You’re not doing anything without us,” Tristan states from the doorway.
Knowing he must have eavesdropped on every word, I adamantly shake my head no. “This is my fight, not yours.”
“The fuck it isn’t,” he snaps, stepping out onto the porch, his arms obstinately crossed across his chest. “Who is Viktor Androv?”
“Someone who is not your fucking problem, Amato,” Pyotr harshly replies.
Pyotr is the most affable guy I know. Quick to laugh and an all-around goofball most of the time. Don’t let that easy-going persona fool you. He would slit your throat and not even blink. He is Drako’s son, through and through. The next in line to lead the Petrovs. An underworld mired in blood and death that Tristan and his insular Society upbringing are clueless about.
“That’s absolute bullshit, and you know it. He isvery muchmy problem. My son almost lost a father. And Syn?—”
That knife of guilt penetrates deeper. “You’re not bratva. We’ll handle it.”
Tristan’s face twists with something very close to offended hurt. “I may not be part of your bratva brotherhood, but you’remybrother, and you’re not doing whatever you’re planning to do without me there to have your back.”
You’re my brother.His words bury themselves deep into my heart. No matter how much I pretended to hate him over the years, there was always a part of me that yearned for that connection.
But I can’t let him risk his life again. Like he said, his son needs his father. “No.”
I curse the heavens when Syn appears at Tristan’s side, Fénix swaddled fast asleep in her arms. This house has no fucking privacy. They were probably listening to me and Pyotr over the security feed, one I was stupid enough to suggest they upgrade after it was so easy for Pyotr to hack into.
“You’re family, Aleksander. Your fight is our fight. If you don’t like it, get the hell over it because that will never change.”
“You should listen to your wife,” Pyotr says, and I shoot him an exasperated glare.
“You literally just said it wasn’t his fucking problem.”
That stupid grin appears. “Your wife is very persuasive.”
“She’smywife, jackass,” Tristan huffs.
“I just agreed with you,jackass, so a thank you would be appreciated.”
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
“Oh my god. Shut up.” My head is starting to pound from their back and forth. “I appreciate the support, but?—”
“Good. Then it’s settled.” Having the last word about the matter, Syn sashays her pert ass back inside.
Pyotr’s amused smirk flashes wide as he follows her. “You heard the lady. Let’s get to work.”
Thirty-Four
October
Sitting up in bed,I grab the baby monitor from the nightstand, the small video screen showing me that Fénix is fast asleep in his crib. His little mouth is puckered as if he’s dreaming of food. I’ll probably need to feed him soon.
Just as I set the monitor down, a chill skitters down my spine. There’s something else in the room with us. Another presence that doesn’t belong. Something inhuman and ominous. Something familiar because I’ve already met it twice before.
Death.
A shadow’s shapeless silhouette elongates as it slowly creeps along the walls. The Grim Reaper has come to claim its next soul.
