Next comes Timur, stalking out like he owns the place. His gaze also sweeps around, skimming right past me. He’s put on some weight, his hair has gone a dark silver, and more gold and silver rings cover his fingers. But there is no missing the cruel look in his dark eyes, or the way he walks with overwhelming arrogance.
I still hate him as much as I did years ago when he didn’t bother to grieve his youngest son. My fingers itch to lift my gun and kill him now. I can’t give away my position yet.
No one else moves out the room, staying behind the door, and Simeon looks at his father, with an impatient look. Timur ignores him. “Where is she?” he demands.
“She’s with those assholes out front fighting. I saw her heading that way with that giant Italian asshole and her dog,” Simeon replies. He fidgets nervously. “But I don’t want to be here when she comes back. She’s a fucking maniac. Him too.”
“She is well trained, but she is not out front,” a deep voice rumbles from my room. I haven’t heard that voice in so long, but it still strikes a sick kind of fear in my heart, even knowing I’m not a child anymore. I watch him emerge from the room, but still careful not to allow all of himself to be exposed.
The Bratva Butcher aka Pasha Antonov still looks as cold and deadly, even with the gray hair and wrinkles that line his face.There’s no missing the size of him, the controlled movements of his body, or the way his green eyes scan every inch of the space. Eyes far too like my own for me to feel even remotely comfortable.
I want to lift my gun now, kill him, but I have to wait. I have to be patient. If I kill him now, I’ll be dead in seconds by whoever else is behind him in my room. I keep my breathing low, even, and steady. I don’t react when his trained eyes scan the hall, taking in every shadow.
He knows I’m here, and I don’t allow myself to feel any surprise when they lock on me.
His lips curl up into a cold, ruthless smile. The same one he used to give me before he beat me unconscious for the smallest infraction, or if he had some anger he wanted to let loose before he continued on with his day.
“Come out, daughter. It’s been far too long since I’ve seen you.”
A part of me wants to ignore him, remain where I am, but that would show weakness. That would give him power, which I vowed never to let him have over me ever again.
Instead, I let my lips curl into a cold smile of my own as I step out of the shadows, gun in hand at my side. “Hello, Father.” I hold his stare as he takes me in. He’ll find something lacking in me, and when his eyes meet mine again, I see his lips pinch in displeasure.
Some things never change.
37
RORI
“You have gotten lazy.”The words are meant to hurt me, to cut, but my smile only lifts, and I can see the growing anger darken his face. He’s never been able to handle disrespect. If I was in striking range, he’d already be landing blows, and he’d fully expect me to take it.
“Can’t say that I missed you either.” I flick a glance at Timur who is taking me in slowly, a look in his eye that’s all too familiar. The one he used to give me when I was sixteen without Mishka around. “Timur. Still being a creep.”
Timur doesn’t bother to look embarrassed at being caught. Men like him never are. Instead of answering me, he looks at Simeon. “I’ll be having the first crack at her before you have your turn. I’ve earned it far more than you.”
Simeon’s face flushes with outrage. “That’s not fucking fair! I’ve done all this shit to get her here and now I don’t get to be the first one to fuck her? Not fucking—Uhhhhh.”
Blood bubbles up in his mouth before he collapses to the floor, choking as he dies. Timur spins toward me, his face a maskof rage, but I’m already firing another bullet, and this one takes out his right shoulder, the one I know he needs to hold his gun. He lets out a cry of pain, grabbing it, and cursing me in Russian.
My father never flinches, never moves to stop me or fire his own weapon that I know is concealed on the other side of that door. The anger has dulled, and the calculation has started again in his eyes. I hold his gaze as I lower the gun. I can’t kill him yet. I need to find out where his own back-up is now. They’re close. I know it deep in my gut.
“Kill her! Why aren’t you killing her, you son of a bitch?” Timur screams at him, clutching his shoulder as he hunches over with the pain. I missed anything vital, but I made sure my bullet would land with the most pain. If he somehow survives this, he’ll never be able to use that shoulder again without some very good surgeons.
“Shut up,” Pasha orders mildly. “Or I’ll order her to put another bullet in you to save me the trouble.”
Timur sputters through the pain, like he can’t believe he’s been double-crossed by a man who has perfected the art.
“I don’t answer to you.”
“Don’t you?”
The slightest flicker of his eyes, so minute if I didn’t know what to look for, I would never have even seen it. I’m already moving, dodging the gun that’s about to be pressed into my back. I grunt when they counter, their elbow landing hard into my side, but I can’t let them take me down.
Down means dead.
My attacker is wearing a balaclava much like my own, and only the darkness of their eyes reflects back at me. They’re taller than me, and they move expertly, dodging me and countering all my steps. Until I manage to land a kick to their wrist, sending the gun flying. A small grunt, but enough for me to know that they’re male.
Of course, my father wouldn’t want a woman to go against me. He wanted to have the upper hand in every way possible. It’s always been a weakness he’s never acknowledged, because the man thinks that word will never apply to him.
