The same thing she’s apologized for my entire life.
For not being stronger.
For not leaving him.
For letting his brutality rule our home.
But I know her words have only cemented the assumption that Mikhail has jumped to—the same one Alex did.
That my mother killed her abusive husband. A battered woman pushed too far.
He’s not entirely wrong.
Just the wrong woman.
“You can go,” Mikhail tells her softly. “Ivan will drive you home.”
She hesitates, confused. I don’t know what she thought about being summoned to the pakhan’s house in the middle of the night, but this clearly wasn’t what she expected—but she also knows better than to question him.
She looks at me one more time, and I give her a small reassuring nod.
“Goodnight, Mama,” I call quietly, but I don’t think she hears me.
Once she’s gone, Mikhail turns back to me, all traces of the softness he showed her gone. He leaves the gun on his desk.
“A woman killed Sergei. Don’t lie. Those scratch marks were from long nails, and unless you got a manicure before you showed up here, they aren’t from you.” He steps closer. “You still insist you’re responsible.”
I stay silent. I won’t use my mother as a shield or blame her for something she didn’t do.
“You’ve put me in a terrible position,” Mikhail growls. “Anything else you want to get off your chest before I decide your fate?”
I shake my head.
“I have something to say,” Alex drawls. His tone is calm, almost bored—except I know him too well.
Mikhail’s eyes narrow. “You always do.”
Alex steps forward, shoulders loose, hands clasped behind his back like he’s not trying to save my life.
“It’s about Sergei,” he says in an almost disinterested tone. “About what he’s been doing behind your back. His betrayal. And about Petyr’s involvement.”
Mikhail’s jaw ticks once.
Alex continues, tone still maddeningly casual. “He wasn’t just running his normal side deals or skimming from collections. He’s trafficking women, Mikhail. Against your express wishes.”
He spreads his hands wide. “Everyone in the bratva knows your position on trafficking women and children, and it’s no secret that some are unhappy about it. Their greed makes them shortsighted, and I’m sorry to say our uncle was one. To make matters worse, he’s been encouraging some, like Petyr, to defy you as well. He cared more about lining his wallet than his loyalty to you.”
Mikhail’s face flushes a deep purple red. “How do you know this?”
“I keep my ears open. I may not be involved in the day-to-day operations of your bratva, but I hear rumors. And when I hear shipments are coming in with Kovalyov connections… through Kovalyov associated supply lines… I listen.” His lips lift in a slight smile. “Of course, I didn’t want to believe such disloyalty was possible, but…”
Mikhail’s glare is deadly when he turns it on his younger brother. “You didn’t think this was something you should bring to me?”
Alex shrugs, in that cavalier manner of his that infuriates his brother. “It’s recent information. I wanted proof before I brought it to you.” His expression shifts to something shrewd and calculating—the real Alex peeking through his facade. “These are serious accusations. Betrayal… insubordination not just by avor,but a trusted bloodfamilymember.”
Mikhail’s eyes bulge, his face turning a dangerous hue. His hand flexes at his side, then he turns to me. “Did you know what your father was doing?”
I choose my words carefully. “Not for sure. Not until today. He knew I would never support it, but tonight he needed my help. He’d been working with Petyr, but my father discovered Petyr was stealing. My father demanded I meet him at the club,” I continue. “To deal with Petyr.” I keep my expression smooth. “When I arrived, Petyr was dead at his feet. My father told me to ‘handle it’ and left.”
