Page 101 of The Bratva Betrayal

I cross the room in four steps and hit him.

Not a warning shot or a controlled measure.

I pull my fist back and then put it square into his face with everything I have behind it.

Misha sprawls sideways back onto the couch, the glass leaving his hand, spilling vodka across my floor.

His gold ring catches the light when he pulls his fingers from his face and looks at the blood on them, stunned.

“What the fuck⁠—“

“Get up.”

He slowly pulls himself back onto the couch and looks at me with disbelief that settles into recognition.

He touches his nose carefully, assessing the damage, and has the sense not to say anything.

I stand in the middle of the living room and look at my brother.

The entitlement.

The gold jewelry.

The boxers.

The split at the bridge of his nose that’s already swelling.

He looks like what he is: a man who has spent his life inside the walls someone else built. He’s never once concerned himself with consequences.

“Where’s the woman?” I saw her on my security camera earlier.

Misha blinks. “She’s⁠—“

“Get her out,” I growl, and he opens his mouth. “Now, Misha. I’m not going to say it again.”

Something in my voice gets through in a way the fist apparently didn’t, because he gets up without another word and disappears down the hall.

I hear a door open, a brief muffled exchange, and then the sound of the elevator being called.

A few minutes later, it’s just us.

I sit in the chair across from him. He settles back onto the couch, blood on his upper lip, waiting to see which version of me is in front of him.

The one who fixes things or the one who ends them.

Tonight, he’s going to meet both.

“You hit her,” I say evenly, and he doesn’t deny it.

“You pulled a gun on her,” I continue. “In her home. You brought another woman into her space, and you put your hands on her. You hit her hard enough that she’s going to have a black eye by morning. And then you left.”

“Artem—“

“I’m not asking you to explain it,” I ground out. “I’m telling you what you did, so we’re both clear on what we’re talking about.”

Misha looks at the floor.

The gold chain hangs against his chest, and I look at it for a moment and think about when I bought it for him.