My knife is now at his throat, and I press just enough to let a trickle of blood stain his collar. Our eyes meet – his wide with terror, mine narrow with finality.
“Do it then, you sniveling coward!” Aleks laughs with false bravado, each chuckle filled with a malice that only amplifies his pain. “Prove you’re as worthless as your father!”
His words are like splinters under my skin. Every fiber of my being screams to end this – to slice through the thin skin of his neck and put an end to the years of torment. And yet…it’s the blood we share that gives me pause, the same blood that courses through my veins and flowed through my mother’s.
I hesitate.Blyat!I can’t do it.
He’s my uncle, my family – twisted as it is.
His own blood, my mother’s blood.
Reluctantly, I lower my knife and release him, stepping back to put distance between us, between what we were and what we’ve become.
“You’re not worth the dirt you’ll be buried in,” I growl, almost a whisper.
I turn to walk away.
“Yob tvoyu mat!You don’t walk away from me, stupid, useless boy! You are just as useless as both your mother and your father. Finish what you’re supposed to do!” Aleks screams. With the ferocity of a wounded animal, I can sense him lunging at me, aiming his own knife at my back.
Yob tvoyu mat?Nobody…nobodygets to insult my mother.
In one smooth motion, the same knife that spared him now becomes his doom. Before he can react, my blade swings through the air, quick and precise.
His head rolls.
Chapter 22
Sophia
Three months later
I’m cocooned in warmth, draped in a sensation that feels both novel and intimate. Sunlight filters through the curtains, casting soft beams across the room. As my eyes flutter open, I remember – this is what waking up with Luka feels like.
Safe and secure.
I am not used to it yet, not really.
The past three months have been a whirlwind. We moved out of the mansion and into this secluded lake house right after that day.
That day was meant to be a celebration of Yulia’s birthday, a day of pure happiness.
But instead, that day, Luka had severed his uncle’s head from its body.
And now he’s remained silent about it.
But I’ve overheard Dimitri and Erik discussing matters. The Bratva businesses have been shifted to their control, slowly winding down Luka’s direct involvement. I know they’re cleaning up, trying to make things right in their own way.
I press my naked body even closer to Luka’s, savoring the touch of his skin against mine.
Luka 2.0seems calmer, more attentive, protective in a way that suggests he’s guarding something invaluable. This new Luka brings a sense of peace that even the tranquil environment surrounding our secluded lake house cannot rival.
However, despite the sense of security and newfound calm, I can’t help but question what lingers in the silent recesses of his soul. Is he genuinely alright, or is this tranquility merely a façade?
Yulia is doing better; she’s in therapy. Her art shows she’s coping; it’s brighter, less chaotic. She didn’t see what happened that day, but she knows enough to be scarred by it.
He moves beside me, his arms closing more tightly around my waist. His hand slips lower, resting on my stomach with a gentleness that holds unspoken weight.
Is he thinking about our baby?
