8. Tatiana

8

TATIANA

M y apartment was eerily silent when I stepped through the front door.

There were no guards, and that told me my brothers were already here.

I stood still for a second and just listened, keeping the door slightly open behind me, since my survival instinct told me to do so in case I needed to make a quick escape. Which was foolish because I was safest when I was with my family.

Although I knew the air conditioner wasn't on, there was a chill surrounding me, as if I were stepping into a meat locker.

I took my time taking off my shoes and jacket. I set my purse on the little table by the door, then my keys on top of it. I was stalling, hesitant to move forward to where I knew my brothers were waiting for me in the living room.

But they didn't say anything. They didn't call for me. Didn't tell me to hurry up. They waited patiently, as if they were predators hiding in the brush, anticipating the thrill of pouncing on their prey.

When I couldn't stall anymore, I took a deep breath and headed into the living room. It was when I rounded the corner that I saw Nikolai sitting on the couch, his appearance seemingly relaxed as he leaned back and had one booted foot propped up on my coffee table.

Dmitry leaned against the wall as he stared out the window overlooking the city. I was twisting my hands together, knowing my nervousness was undeniable. I wondered if it was like a neon sign above my head.

He'd been in prison for the last five years, serving time for being connected to an underground fight ring—amongst other things. He'd recently gotten out, and although it was a joyous reunion to have my eldest brother back, things had gone back to "normal" instantly.

And by normal, I meant Dmitry and Nikolai running the Desolation Bratva with iron fists, cold hearts, and vicious weapons.

Well, things were normal aside from a stark difference in Dmitry, one I couldn't place, and one I knew didn't have anything to do with him being in prison. I just didn't know what it was, but it… changed him in some way.

As if hearing or reading my thoughts, Dmitry looked over his shoulder at me and gave me a once-over. His expression remained stoic. I knew I didn't have to say one word for him to know everything I was thinking and feeling.

A muscle in his jaw ticked as his gaze landed on my throat and then again as he dragged his focus up to my eyes. Everything felt so swollen and achy, like someone had repeatedly punched me in the face.

Nikolai had yet to look up at me, but I could hear him playing a game on his phone. I knew he wasn't really interested in it but did it as a distraction so he wouldn't go out to destroy shit.

I could read my brothers as well as they could read me. I guess it was our Petrov blood.

I opened my mouth but didn't say a thing. I couldn't find the words to speak. It was then I heard the click-clack of nails coming toward us out of the kitchen. I watched as Dmitry's Doberman, Sasha, trotted over to me. She sat beside my feet, and I instantly crouched, wrapping an arm around her back and pulling her in close.

I instantly felt calm as she nuzzled against me, sensing my unease.

"Прежде всего…" First off… Dmitry's voice was dangerously low and his words even. "Мы поговорим о том, где ты была всю ночь." We're going to talk about where you were all night.

I stayed crouched as I stared at my big brother. It was then I felt a prickling wave settle over me and knew Nikolai had also turned his full attention on me. I dragged my gaze from Dmitry to stare at him, the man whom I'd heard through the rumor mill once took sadistic pleasure in tearing the finger and toenails off a man for cutting him off in traffic.

There was menace radiating off Nikolai to the point that Sasha growled and moved her body to position it in front of me.

"Кто, черт возьми, сделал это с твоим чертовым лицом, Тати?" Who the hell did that to your fucking face, Tati? He stood and tossed his phone onto the coffee table with a loud clang against the glass.

He moved a step forward, and Sasha took a threatening stance. I watched as she lowered her head and growled more aggressively.

"I don't want to talk about this right now." My voice was harsh, scratchy, and fuck did it hurt to speak. Keeping my eyes on Sasha, I didn't look at my brothers to see their reaction. I knew they would be livid.

The big, black-and-brown beast growled again, and I finally glanced at my siblings.

Nikolai's jaw clenched as he stared at the Doberman. "Дмитрий, контролируй Сашу, чтобы мы во всем этом разобрались." Dmitry, get Sasha under control, so we can figure this shit out.

While she had stayed at his house while our brother was in jail, Sasha was actually attached to Amara, not Nikolai. I'd laughed many times in the past five years, as I watched the protective dog take this same stance in front of my sister-in-law when her husband got too bossy or hotheaded.

"Саша, приди." Sasha, come. Dmitry's voice was firm.

I felt Sasha's muscular body tense, as if she wanted to go to her owner but also wanted to stay next to me and protect me from the "threat" she deemed immediate.

"чёрт возьми, Саша." For fuck's sake, Sasha , Nikolai snapped. "Она моя сестра. Я не собираюсь причинять ей боль." She's my sister. I'm not going to hurt her.

Sasha moved toward Dmitry then, as if she understood what Nikolai said. But I could see how contracted her muscles were under her sleek, dark coat as she sat beside one man but kept a laser-focused eye on the other.

No one spoke for long seconds, and then Dmitry exhaled and ran a hand over his short hair.

Nikolai stared at Sasha for a second, his jaw clenched tightly as he ground his molars. Finally, he huffed out a curse and walked toward me.

I noticed Dmitry petting Sasha, probably to keep her in line so she didn't lunge toward us. I pulled back my shoulders and stood to look my brother in the eye, albeit about a foot higher than my own, wanting him to see that although my appearance was no doubt shocking, I wasn't weak. I wouldn't—not even in the face of my brothers' protective wrath—be intimidated.

"I'm tired," I whispered, but I still didn't sound like myself. It hurt to even breathe, let alone force words out of my mouth.

Maybe it was the look in my eyes or the hard set of my face as I glanced between my brothers, but I saw this… almost resignation cover Dmitry's face, as if he knew I wouldn't budge on this.

"I'm just as stubborn as the two of you," I muttered under my breath in English, my skull pounding from a massive headache and my entire face feeling like it had been run over with a semi.

Dmitry chuckled, and Nikolai cut him a scathing look.

Although both of the men were hardcore in everything they did in life, out of the two of them, Nikolai was the legitimate sociopath. And right now—as I stared into his wild-looking eyes—I could see the only thing on his mind was vengeance.

Before I knew it, Nikolai was standing mere inches from me, his breathing increasing the longer we stared at each other.

"Даже если ты не расскажешь нам, кто это с тобой сделал, Татти…" Even if you don't tell us who did that to you, Tati… Nikolai ground the words out from between his clenched teeth. "Ты чертовски хорошо знаешь, что мы собираемся выяснить, кто это был." You know damn well we're going to fucking find out who it was.

Yeah… I knew that, but that was a problem to worry about at another time .

"Maybe, brother," I whispered. "But not right now. Not today."

Nikolai looked crazed as he glared at me. I glanced down to see his hands curled into tight fists at his sides, his knuckles cracking as if he were preparing for any chance to destroy something.

Although my brothers were very protective over me, this wasn't just about that. Dmitry and Nikolai had a darkness within them that made it impossible for them to live normal lives.

They needed an outlet for all the aggression, destruction, and violence they housed.

They needed something to tame whatever demonic creature they had inside each of them.

It was the same as the one our father had. It was as if the very devil himself possessed all of them, and that bastard was starved for another bite of human flesh.

But the difference between my brothers and our psychotic father was that they would never hurt the ones they loved.

They'd rather die slow and torturous deaths than cause the ones they held close any sort of pain.

" Please ," I said finally, and I reached out to take one of Nikolai's hands in mine. After a second, he relaxed enough to hold it within his much larger one, but I could see how tense he was.

In my mind, I saw flashes of Gio's massive, tattooed body hovering over mine as he crowded me by his front door. I thought about how he killed that man so effortlessly, as if he were just taking his next breath.

God, he'd been ruthless and brutal.

To save me. To protect me.

And it was clear it hadn't affected him while he sat in his kitchen and drank his coffee. He acted like it was just another day and he hadn't murdered someone.

Or more like murdering someone was a simple, everyday task he did, right along with getting dressed and brushing his teeth.

"I'm so tired," I whispered, and I saw Dmitry move closer so he was standing just a foot behind Nikolai. "I just want to sleep. I just want to…." I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, my throat burning. I kept my expression neutral, so they wouldn't see how much pain I was in.

"Tati." Nikolai's voice was deep and low, and when I looked at him, I could see how he scanned my face with his all-seeing eyes, his expression so worried .

"I know I can't run from this conversation, but can we shelve it for right now? Can we talk about it later?"

There was a war waging on my brothers' faces, as they clearly wanted to fight me on this, but after a second, Nikolai nodded. "I'll call for a car to bring Amara."

The way he spoke told me there was no point in arguing. I let go of his hand and took a step back, expecting them to move toward the front door, but Nikolai made himself comfortable on my couch.

Dmitry moved toward the front door but looked at me. "We aren't leaving," he said, his voice firm.

I didn't argue or tell them to go. I knew they needed to be here for me—and for themselves. I felt a cold, wet nudge against my hand and glanced down to see Sasha by my side.

"Go rest, little sister."

I nodded at Nikolai's softly spoken command but kept my focus on Sasha.

"I'm bringing the doctor too." Dmitry's tone was flat, as if he knew I wouldn't say shit about it.

And I wouldn't.

I just gave another nod because I wasn't stupid. I knew Gio probably had someone look at my injuries from the fact that I had an IV in my arm when I woke up. But even though I felt mostly okay—sore as fuck, but alive—I wasn't senseless enough to think I shouldn't be seen by my brothers' doctor.

Dmitry and Nikolai shared a look, one that was this silent communication I'd never understood. And then Dmitry grabbed his cell out of his pocket and opened the front door to run his quick errand.

I stood there in silence as Sasha kept nudging me and felt the heavy weight of Nikolai's lethal stare on me.

I hadn't felt so… helpless since my father had been murdered.

Good riddance to that piece of shit. I hope he's burning over and over again in the fiery pits of hell.

"I'm going to shower and then lie down."

Nikolai said nothing in response, but I knew he was still looking at me. I felt his gaze like a hot poker branding my face.

Plus, asking them to leave for the night wouldn't have done any good. When my brothers decided on something, nothing could make them deviate from their paths.

So I didn't say another word and headed to my room, locked myself and Sasha in, leaned against the door, and just… breathed.

I gathered my conviction and pushed away from the door, grabbed a change of clothes, and went to the bathroom.

Sasha was insistent on coming in with me, and when I shut the bathroom door, she laid down in front of it with a heavy huff.

I turned on the faucet and let it get scalding hot. Steam filled the room in a matter of minutes. I stripped and slowly sank into the tub with a heavy sigh of my own. Sasha huffed out again, and I glanced over at her.

"It was one of those nights for me too, girl." I peered up at the bathroom vanity and the large mirror above it, having purposely not looked at my reflection when I passed it on my way to the tub. I was afraid to see what I looked like… what my own stupidity did to me.

Don't you dare blame yourself.

Maybe I shouldn't have gone to the fight. But it wasn't my fault this shit happened. It was not my fault I got hurt, and the world now had one less motherfucker to worry about.

I sank lower in the tub, a painful tightness in my arms and legs setting in as soon as I was submerged. But it felt good. I liked that flash of discomfort telling me I was alive. I was safe.

As much as I didn't want to replay the previous night's events, they ran through my mind like a movie reel.

The hand on my throat getting tighter and tighter.

The feeling of the air getting pulled from my lungs.

That darkness creeping in….

I sat up with a gasp, this time welcoming the pain the deep breath caused, and scrubbed my body, my flesh burning the harder I ran the loofah over my arms and legs. I took a washrag next and scrubbed my face and neck, gasping quietly, as the pain was intense, but I couldn't stop.

Eventually, when I couldn't take any more, and too weak to continue if I could've, I pulled the plug, got out, wrapped a towel around my body, and then faced the foggy mirror. My hand was shaking as I ran my palm over the glass, smearing the condensation so I could see the blurry visage of myself.

My reflection wasn't clear, but the longer I stood there and the tub emptied, the more the steam dissipated and the room cleared, showing me the monster I appeared to be.

What my brothers had seen.

And what caused a full-on sociopath to feel—and even look —worried .

A hard gasp left me as I took in my eyes, the broken vessels looking like someone splattered blood across the whites. My left was worse than my right, and I ran a finger gently along my cheekbone.

I blinked tears away.

My face and upper chest had small red and purple dots covering it, almost like grisly little freckles. And my throat? God. My throat was also red and purple and would no doubt get darker with each passing hour. I ran my fingers along the large, very clear, bluish thumbprint on the right side of my throat, right over my pulse point.

Other fingerprint-sized bruises littered the left side of my throat, and a choked sound escaped me. I was sore, swollen and tender, and… I was fucking pissed. I clenched my teeth and exhaled, my breath coming out as this weird rattling noise.

"I'm glad he's dead," I whispered to my reflection. "I'm glad Gio fucking killed him like the worthless piece of shit he was." The tears were falling down my cheeks, but I didn't bother brushing them away.

And despite being so angry, I could feel my heart racing. I felt unwavering despair and fear fill me. It was a fear I hadn't felt since I was a little girl, hiding— metaphorically and literally—from my father's wrath.

I didn't know what I was afraid of, but I knew it wasn't Gio.

In fact, as I thought about him killing that man, then taking me back to his place and tending to me, I felt something powerful coursing through me.

I was afraid of what had happened to me. I was afraid of what would come if my brothers found out Gio was the one who intervened and helped.

There were so many things that could go wrong with Gio being the one who killed my attacker.

My brothers might see it as a betrayal that he hadn't contacted them right away and told them what happened. I was afraid that revealing Gio's involvement could escalate tensions between him and my brothers, potentially leading to a violent conflict or, God, even a war between the two factions. They might see Gio's actions as a challenge to their authority, or an infringement on their territory, which would then put Gio in great danger.

There were so many things rolling around in my head on what could—and would—go wrong if my brothers found out any of it.

I closed my eyes and pushed all that worry away so there was only one thing now claiming my thoughts.

Visions of Gio and… this heat I suddenly felt, which I wanted to feel more of.