Blue eyes stare at nothing. Alexei’s blue eyes—the same shade as our mother’s—dilated and empty. His face is pale, peacefulalmost, if not for the two bullet wounds in his chest. Dark blood stains his white shirt, spreading out like wings.
My baby brother.
The world narrows to this moment. To his face. To the memory that slams into me with the force of a bullet.
“Will you teach me to shoot,Dima?”Seven-year-old Alexei looked up at me with those mischievous blue eyes. “Like Father taught you?”
I knelt beside him in our family’s shooting range, helped him hold the gun properly. “Like this,Malchik. And remember?—”
Alexei lets loose a big sigh. “I know, I know. Never point it at something I don’t want to destroy.”
I ruffled his blond hair. “Smart boy. And Alexei?” I waited until he looked at me. “I’ll always protect you no matter what. That’s what big brothers do.”
He smiled. “Promise?”
“Promise.”
The memory shatters and I’m back in the present, kneeling in the dirt beside my brother’s corpse, and I can’t breathe or think. I can’t do anything but stare at the lie my promise has become.
I failed him.
“Nephew.”
The voice comes from behind me, gentle and sad. Uncle Konstantin. Thank God he’s here. He’s always here when things fall apart, ready to pick up the pieces.
I can’t turn around because that means I’m looking away from Alexei’s face.
“I’m so sorry, Nephew,” Konstantin says, his hand heavy on my shoulder. “So sorry.”
“Tell me.” My voice doesn’t sound like mine. It’s too rough and broken. “Tell me everything you know.”
“The Ashfords,” Konstantin starts heavily. “They requested the meeting—neutral territory, they said. Peace talks about the border disputes.” I hear him sigh. “It was a trap. Vincent Ashford’s brother deliberately pulled the trigger himself.”
Coldness slides through my veins, pushing out the grief. It doesn’t erase the pain—nothing could erase this—but it gives it shape. Direction. Purpose.
“They’re all going to die.” I carefully pull the sheet back over Alexei’s face, my hands steady now. “Every single Ashford. I’ll burn their entire family to the ground.”
“Dimitri.” Konstantin’s voice sharpens. “Think carefully what you’re saying. We’re outnumbered right now. The Ashfords have allies, territory, and a significant amount of resources. If you move too quickly, it could be catastrophic.”
“I don’t fucking care.” I stand, and the world snaps back into focus. My men watch me, waiting for orders. Waiting for their leader to lead. “Ready everyone. Call in every favor, every contact. I want?—”
“You need to be smart about this,” Konstantin interrupts. “Strategic. Your father would have?—”
“My father is dead,” I say harshly. “And now, so is my brother because I let him go to a meeting I should have attended myself.”I turn to Roman. “I want full mobilization with everyone we have. I want intelligence on every goddamn Ashford family member, every property, and every business. I want to know where they sleep at night.”
“Boss—” Roman starts.
“Now.”
He nods and disappears into the crowd of men, already making calls.
I look down at the sheet one more time, at the outline of my brother beneath it. The baby I held when he was born. The boy I taught to shoot. The man I was so proud to see him becoming.
“I’ll make this right, Brother,” I whisper. The words feel empty and inadequate. “I swear on my life, I swear on our family name. They’ll pay.Allof them. I’ll make them pay.”
The promise settles into my bones like an oath. Like destiny.
My men scatter to follow orders. Konstantin stays close, murmuring about caution and strategy, but I barely hear him. I’m already planning and seeing the moves I need to make.
