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Bratva Holiday

Page 8

by T.J. Maguire

“Fuck you!” Lukyan spat. He rammed his fist into Aleksandr’s stomach, but the man barely flinched, his focus unwavering.

Nikolai and Tatiana watched on from the sidelines while their twins clapped and laughed at the spectacle their uncles were making.

“Get him off me, Illayana!” Lukyan yelled.

“What the fuck do you think I’m trying to do, you big-headed idiot?!” Illayana yanked and yanked on Aleksandr’s arm with all her might, but it was no use. The man was unmovable.

“I…do not…have a…big head, you wiley-eyed bitch!” Lukyan choked, each word like agony past his lips.

“You kinda do,” Nikolai added.

I offered him my bowl of popcorn, and he inclined his head, leaning forward and dipping his hand in to grab some before tossing it into his mouth.

“Say goodbye to your hair, Lukyan,” Aleksandr taunted in a sing-song voice that made me snicker.

“This is the best,” I whispered under my breath, scooping up more popcorn. Christmas mornings in my household were never like this. I only had one sibling, and while the Volkovs pretended and acted like they hated each other, my brother and I, Corey, actually did hate each other, with every fiber of our being.

This was my first Christmas with a loving and supportive family. One where everyone gathered around a tree and opened presents, laughing and just enjoying each other’s company. I was so excited for it. I’d barely slept the night before, too eager and anxious for the day.

Lukyan screeched, flailing wildly, and I shoved more popcorn into my mouth, having much more fun watching all the chaos unfold than I probably should. Dimitri glared at his children, and I playfully nudged him in the side.

“We both know you can stop this with one word. You’re not fooling me with that fake grumpy look. Popcorn?” I offered him the bowl.

He grunted, plucked a few pieces, and threw them into his mouth.

“How long do you plan to let it go on for?” I asked, my head tilting to the side. Illayana had decided to switch tactics and was now clinging to Aleksandr’s back, her arms wrapped around his neck in a pretty impressive choke hold.

Dimitri shrugged noncomittally. “A few more minutes.”

I chuckled, shaking my head. The grumpy buffoon could deny it all he liked, but I knew there was a small part of him that enjoyed watching his children in this state. I was sure it was because it was a bond he had always wished to have with his own brother.

My gaze swung to Lyla. The woman sat patiently off to the side, a small smile on her lips. Her honey-colored hair was left free, tumbling down her shoulders and framing her face. She was dressed in matching Christmas pajamas with Lukyan. Much like myself, she didn’t have a great upbringing either. We’d chatted quite a lot since she entered the family. We had a weekly coffee date at The Laneway Kitchen, a small bistro a couple of miles from the Volkov home.

I was honestly surprised she hadn’t intervened yet. She was very protective of her little “pookie bear”—her words, not mine. Memories flashed in my mind of the several times she’d come to her husband’s rescue, hurling herself at his siblings to save him. There was one time she’d even held a knife to Aleksandr’s throat and demanded he release him.

It had been quite funny to watch, actually. Everyone had been stunned into silence. Once Aleksandr had let him go, she’d smiled, stepped back, apologized, and said, “Sorry. I’m spontaneously violent,” and then laughed.

No—cackled, like some evil witch from the 1600s.

No one messed with Lukyan for months after that incident.

It wasn’t until Aleksandr was about to snip off a lock of hair that Dimitri finally intervened.

“Enough.” One word, barely uttered, but all three of them listened instantly, stepping away from each other. “Go sit down.”

None of them moved, at first.

Three sets of eyes glared at each other before Aleksandr shoved Lukyan so hard he went flying, landing harshly on the floor a step away from Lyla. Aleksandr marched back to where Drea was sitting and thumped down angrily, crossing his legs and folding his arms over his chest, a scowl still firmly in place.

Drea ran her hand down Aleksandr’s back, and just like that, the man seemed to instantly calm down.

Once Illayana had returned to her spot beside Arturo, Dimitri simply nodded. He didn’t say a word as he turned slightly and began sifting through the presents. No one spoke, the only sound echoing through the eerily quiet room being my munching loudly on delicious popcorn.

There was a system in place for Christmas morning—one the Volkovs honored every year. They all sat in a wide, open circle, and one by one, Dimitri would hand out their presents. It wasn’t until the final present left the tree that they were finally allowed to open them.

I watched, the happiest I had been in a long time at being included in such a beautiful tradition, and waited eagerly, like all of them, for the real fun to start.

The present count was pretty equal between them all. Dimitri held a huge present in his hands. It was definitely the biggest one there, and as he slowly moved away from the tree, Lukyan perked up, his spine snapping straight and his crossed legs eagerly bouncing up and down.