Rough Exile

Chapter Twenty-Three

Ilyastoodinthe middle of our suite’s living room, looking for somewhere to lay down his gory axe.

The door opened behind me, and I whirled, ready to fight whichever brother was planning to attack Ilya. Bron entered and met my gaze, then dropped his focus to where my fists were up and ready. He was chewing something and had a takeout bag in his hand.

“Am I already in the doghouse?” he said as he closed the door behind him. “I didn’t even stop for a beer on the way back. I brought you two some ponchinki”

From the gleam in his eye, I could tell he was amused, but when he saw my expression, he took in the rest of me. He touched the blanket I had wrapped around me. “What happened to your dress?”

His attention flicked from me to where Ilya stood behind me, partially shielded from view.

“Jesus, what happened?” He pulled me to him and practically dragged me across the room to where Ilya stood. The blood on him had mostly congealed. It had to be itchy.

“Ilya, look at me,” his voice was sharp. “What happened?”

“I had no other choice.”

“No other choice? What do you mean?”

Ilya didn’t respond, so Bron turned to me.

“Who did this to you?” He took me by the arm and looked me over as though he might identify my attacker by examining the damage he’d done.

“Vas.”

“What did that bastard do?” Bron demanded, eyes flashing.

I looked from him to Ilya.

“He tried—” I swallowed, but I couldn’t finish saying it. “I got away.”

Ilya clarified, “She kneed him in the balls.”

“And then?”

“I went to talk to him.”

“Talk to him?” I said, probably too shrilly.

“I only meant to threaten him.”

“You didn’t say anything. That wasn’t a threat—that was retribution.”

“He deserved it.” He narrowed his eyes at me. “And I would do it again.”

Bron paled. “Ilyusha—you can’t hurt a man like Vas and expect him not to retaliate.”

Did he seriously think Ilya only hurt him? There was so much blood. It was hard to believe it all came from one person.

“Vas is dead.”

“Dead?” He shook himself. “Are either of you hurt? Is any of that blood yours?” Carefully, he took the axe from Ilya. “We need to wash you off and get you out of here before the police come.”

“The police aren’t coming unless you call them. The others won’t do it. I’ve spoken to them.”

“You trust them?”

“They seem relieved he’s dead,” Ilya muttered.

“Go wash.”

Their stare-down was silent and left me wondering what they were saying to each other.

Ilya turned and went back into the bathroom, and as the water started, Bron picked up the axe and hefted it.

I had sunk onto the couch, and I eyed him suspiciously.

“Where are you going with that?”

“Stay here and lock the door behind me.”

“Bron!”

He scowled at me. “For once in your life, woman, do what I say. If anyone tries to come through, go tell Ilya.”

Despite his stern tone, his eyes were worried. Did he think their brothers would attack Ilya as soon as he was out of the room?

“Don’t kill anybody,” I recommended.