Bratva Beast: A Dark Romance

I heard the water run, and when he came back out, the bleeding had stopped.

“We should go,” he said, glancing back over his shoulder. “Poor Peter. He won Moscow’s Strongest Man competition twice in a row. He was so proud that second time.”

I climbed to my feet. “I’m sorry. About your friend.”

He shook his head. “I told Pakhan not to send him. I begged him.” His hands clenched into fists as he turned his back to me. “You can’t come back here again. You know that, right?”

“I know.” All I could think to do was to keep apologizing, but that wouldn’t fix what just happened.

“Then come on. Let’s go back to my place.”

“Aren’t they going to come looking for him? Aren’t they going to know you killed him?”

He didn’t answer. Only stalked back out into the hallway and looked over his shoulder, his light eyes beckoning.

I drifted after him like I was hung to the back of his ship and dragged through black, choppy seas.

10

Mack

Just this once.

Those words kept playing through my mind, over and over.

Her soft flesh beneath my fingers, the pliant way she opened her lips and that soft squeaking moan she released as I pinned her there on the couch.

While in the other room, my old friend Peter lay dead.

I couldn’t think about that. Otherwise, my throat closed up as anger welled up through my body in waves.

I tried to make him stop. I tried to talk to him, but there was no talking to Peter when he decided that something was wrong.

He saw me as a traitor, and in that moment, I knew it would be either me or him.

Fucking Peter.

I didn’t know how much more Evgeni would take away. After we got back to my place, Fiona curled up on the couch and distracted herself with TV while I paced through the kitchen, drinking vodka and trying to figure out what the hell we were going to do.

Each sip felt good. The warmth spread into my limbs and the burn reminded me that I was still alive.

That was all that mattered.

I paused in the doorway and looked out at Fiona. She stared blankly straight ahead, dealing with what happened in her own way. I wished I could do something for her—touch her lips and take her pain away, or somehow remove the memories from her mind. She didn’t need to see Peter die like that.

But there was nothing I could do.

Everything I had, I was giving it over. My past, my future.

For that girl.

And I didn’t know why.

I turned away, finished the vodka, then drifted into the living room.

Fiona looked up, frowned at me a little bit. I perched on the arm of the couch and looked down at her. “We need to talk.”

“About what?”

“I thought you might want to list your favorite movies.”

She looked away. “If you’re going to be a sarcastic dick, I’ll just keep watching TV.”

I grabbed the remote and turned it off. She only sighed like it was too much effort to get annoyed.

“Evgeni’s going to know I killed Peter soon. When he finds out, things are going to get very bad for us.”

She sat up slightly. “What’ll he do?”

“I don’t know. But we have a day at most before they start to wonder why Peter isn’t checking in.”

Her legs stretched out. I looked at them, at the lean muscle, at the smooth skin. I wanted to run my fingers down their length and dig my nails in sharply until she gasped and begged me to stop.

Fuck, what was wrong with me?

My right hand shook and I tucked it away behind my back.

“We can’t run. The Lionettis still have Connor.” She stared down into her lap. “Maybe I can stay behind.”

“Evgeni will only send someone else.”

“Then what can we do?”

“We’ll go talk to him.”

She looked up sharply, eyes narrowed. “What?”

“I know where Evgeni lives. I know how to get inside that house. We’ll pay him a visit tonight and explain everything.”

She opened her mouth then shut it again. She was clearly torn, but I didn’t see how we had any other choice. Tomorrow, Evgeni would get suspicious, Peter’s body would be found, and all hell would break loose. There wasn’t a safe house in the city I could use to hide from Evgeni and the Morozov family.

They knew all my secrets.

And I knew all of theirs.

“You didn’t want to kill that man today, did you?” She finally looked up at me, eyes fierce and angry.

“No, I didn’t.”

“Were you friends?”

“Something like that. We grew up together. Evgeni taught us this business when we were kids.”

She leaned forward. “Then why the hell would you kill him for someone like me?”

I leaned back, not sure how to answer. Tears filled her eyes and she wiped them away angrily, like she was pissed that I’d make her cry.