That sounds exactly like him. When he begins to lose control, he acts without thinking. He becomes more erratic, less reasonable, certain he knows what’s best.
Could I do a better job?
Who knows?
My brother is the one who was born to lead, not me. I’m not sure if I have what it takes to bePakhan. Our father didn’t think so. He always told me how weak I was, that I would never be strong enough or ruthless enough to be the head of the family. Only Gavriil.
I dry off with my one pathetic towel, then inspect my wound before putting my shirt back on. The stitches were repaired by Yelena right after I was brought here. Since there hasn’t been much physical activity, the wound is closing well now.
That’s the only plus side of being stuck in this shithole. I refuse to ever fail Alina again.
Soon, I’ll be healed and ready to fight whoever I have to.
Whoever stands between me and mydikaya koshka.
My brother included.
8
Alina
The next morning,my head feels so heavy that I can’t even lift it off the floor.
My eyes open halfway, stinging from the sunlight pouring into the room. My throat burns as I force a swallow, a quiet groan sounding from me. I feel like roadkill.
My vision clears and steadies, a familiar figure coming into view.
Gavriil stands at the foot of his bed in front of a full-length mirror. He fixes his belt as the sunshine bathes his bare torso in golden light.
I breathe in deeply as I watch him, my eyes lingering on his massive chest and defined abdomen. He’s so broad I wonder if he can even fully see himself from shoulder to shoulder in the mirror.
Staring at him, I imagine a variety of ways I would like to hurt him.
Claw his eyes out.
Slice his throat open.
Rip his callous heart from his chest.
Too bad I can barely hold my eyes open, much less hold a weapon if I had one in my hand.
Still, my anger at him fills me up, giving me a reason to keep living, even if I don’t deserve to. I can’t waste away until I make him pay for hurting Archer and Dom.
Gavriil turns toward me as he smooths his hands down over the front of his black trousers, and I catch sight of the two ruby necklaces hanging around his neck before noticing the two scars on his abdomen. Lines that are a few inches long angled in different directions. Knife wounds.
I’m sure there are plenty of people who want to cut him up. Me included.
Yet, I can’t rip my eyes away from him as he leans over to grab a black button-down shirt off the bed, his muscles shifting and flexing with every movement.
He’s the type to step back and let his men do all his dirty work for him, but is he any good in a fight or is his physique just for show?
None of my questions even matter, but still, they flood my mind.
“You could be in my warm bed right now instead of in that cage if you actually behaved and ate something.”
My heart lurches painfully into my throat at the sound of his voice. I meet his eyes as he peers over the bed at me, my cheek still pressing against the cold floor. He’s so determined to get me in his bed. Doesn’t he know that I would rather die?
“Trust me, you’d enjoy the bed more than the cold floor,” Gavriil reiterates as he drapes his shirt over his shoulder, leaving his upper body bare.
