Ilya looks back at me, his expression smoothing out. I’m not sure what kind of front he’s attempting to put on, but it’s not working. This man has a plan that involves me, and it’s not going to be anything good. Actually, no, it’s going to be fucking terrible. The kind of thing where I might just end up dead.
I really fucking wish I had Hades here with me. I’d feel so much better having him at my side and keeping these two men in their place and on edge.
“I’m sure you have questions on why you’re here and not on your way to your wedding,” Ilya continues, rounding the desk. His watchful eyes never leave me, searching for any signs of weakness. I keep my stance casual, but my eyes never stray, while being acutely aware of his brother.
The same brother who sinks into the chair that his brother just vacated. Clearly, he’s not worried about Ilya’s safety. That or he’s just plain lazy, but that doesn’t feel right either.
“Where’s your dog?” Zakhar suddenly asks. “I was looking forward to meeting him. Love those big fuckers. Trying to convince Ilya to get a protection one too, but he’s a stick in the mud on a good day, so it’s like pulling teeth.”
Alright, so he’s exactly like Alessio and Massimo, and based on the look his brother gives him, Ilya finds him just as annoying.
Are they trying to make it seem like I can relax? That this is just a friendly chat and not a shake down under it all? They really must think I’m stupid.
“Oh, come on, I know you don’t want to talk to him since he’s all grumpy and shit, but I’m at least personable,” Zakhar huffs, and I swear to God, he even pouts at me. A fucking Bratva man pouting at me. I don’t know if I should be amused or concerned that he’s this good at acting. Probably both.
I turn my attention back to Ilya, preferring his stoic silence. I know what I’m getting with him. He doesn’t smile, but I swear I see the corner of his lip twitch.
It’s gone quickly and he says, “Alright, let’s get serious. You’re probably wondering what the hell you’re doing here and I don’t have much time to get this going.”
Alright, here we go.
“Why am I here?”
Something flashes in his eyes, but I can’t make it out fast enough. It sets me on edge. I don’t trust this man or whatever he’s planning.
His lips pull into a slow, sardonic smile. The unease builds higher in my gut. Shit. This isn’t going to be good.
“I want you to kill Timur Belov and your father, the Bratva Butcher.”
Looks like I was right. On top of that, the man is insane.
7
RORI
I wantto laugh in his face. Is he fucking crazy? Yeah, he has to be if he thinks that’s remotely possible. Especially not the Bratva Butcher. Timur, that could be possible, though not a slam dunk, but my father? People have been trying to kill him for years and have never succeeded.
Those poor sons of bitches are the ones that end up dead. Slowly, painfully, and in ways that even now make my stomach turn.
The question is, why do they want him dead? I can understand Timur, considering they want his territory, but killing a favorite of many of the Pakhans around the world? Killing him would piss off a lot of people. Why does he want to take that risk?
Instead of saying any of that, I simply ask, “Why?”
Instead of answering that, he continues, “You’re the one who will be in the perfect position to get it done. They won’t see it coming.”
I snort, unable to help myself. His eyes narrow and his lips flatten, but I’m too mystified to care about my reaction and what it gives away. The man is insane, and if I’m right, he’ll die before all of this ends. “You really think that they won’t see me coming? That they aren’t already preparing for me to kill them?”
“Perhaps my word choice wasn’t correct. That is exactly why we want you to kill them.”
A slow blink. “I can’t tell if you’re trying to be clever or trying to shock me. If you want me to understand this insane plan, I’m going to need more.”
Zakhar snorts out a laugh. “I like her.”
“You like anyone with a pretty face,” Ilya snaps irritably. He crosses his arms across his chest and leans back against the desk, still facing me.
“Before we go any further. How do you know about me? And about who my father is? I haven’t gone by my birth name in over a decade and I made sure it wouldn’t be easily found out.” I cross my own arms, watching him distrustfully.
“Any information I need I can get. Yours, while well hidden, was found out well enough by my men.”
