Chapter 9

Viktor

CHAPTER NINE

Nine years ago

“He doesn't know his own strength, Stanislav,” my mother said, her voice trembling as she held both hands up in front of her. “Listen to me. He doesn't know his own strength.”

My father was in pajama bottoms, his robe cinched around his waist. All he needed was a pipe to complete the look. This was a man who had been dragged from his sleep to meet the police. One more year. All I needed was one more year, and I'd be a legal adult. The second I was, I’d be gone.

The flashing lights faded away.

“He’s always used that excuse,” my father sneered. “He's known his strength for years.”

“It's not an excuse!” my mother pleaded. “Listen to me!”

I was sitting on a chair, staring at the blank wall of the fireplace. We never lit a fire in it because my father didn’t like it. I wanted to think he didn't like warmth either. My father's eyes locked onto mine, his neck veins bulging as he clenched his fists by his side. He wanted to hurt me, but the last time he did, I deflected his blows.

Now he was wary.

Instead, he’d bait me. He looked at me, his eyes filled with disdain. “What was it now? Someone interrupted you when you were talking? Someone took your parking space? Someone kissed a girl you liked?”

I clenched my fists and remained silent. He was baiting me. He knew I wasn’t petty with my violence. The truth was, he used me when it suited him, justifying his own brutal methods. I was his secret weapon.

I didn’t respond because that’s what he wanted—a fight. If he could get a rise out of me, he could hit me. It was easy to justify punishment when I reacted. It was harder when I stayed silent. I looked away from him, my eyes resting on the cold fireplace.

“Stanislav,” my mother said, her voice pleading.

“Answer me!” my father roared. His footsteps thundered closer. My brothers, Mikhail and Nikko, had heard what was going on. I could see them hiding on the stairway, ready to defend. My heart swelled in my chest. They were prepared to defend me if necessary, but we all knew how complicated things got when we defended each other over something trivial. Still, they had my back.

But I didn't need them. I was completely at peace with what I did today.

I took revenge on the teenage boys who hurt Lydia. I had absolutely no regrets. The person who started it was only the first on my list. The news had already spread, whispers circulating among the teenagers at school and even rumors at the local church.

Some called me a demon, others an angel of vengeance, a harbinger of justice. I embraced it. I would eliminate evil.

“Out of my life,” my father said, his voice trembling with fury. “You're nothing more than a curse. A scourge to punish me.”

A curse.

A scourge.

I didn’t reply.

“Answer me!” he thundered.

My father took a step toward me, and my mother stepped in front of him. “No! No more,” she said, her voice cracking. It was only last month that he put Aleksandr in the hospital with a broken jaw because of a trivial misunderstanding that could easily be twisted by a narcissist.

This time, I saw the determination in my mother’s eyes.

I didn't blame her. My mother, a woman of firm resolve, was so diminished she needed to choose carefully when to intervene. If she didn't, it would come back on her, and the rest of us would suffer.

“Get out of my way,” he sneered.

She shook her head, and her hair fell from the clip holding it together. It cascaded over her bare, thin shoulders as she stood her ground.

“Move.”

My father raised his hand to strike her.

I leaped to my feet and grabbed the front of his shirt. It took everything in me to hold myself back from throwing him bodily into the cold, empty fireplace.

My father’s eyes widened with fear. I dropped him. He stepped back, stunned.

The realization hit me like a punch to the gut—I was someone to be feared. My sheer size made people cower.

It filled me with a mix of pride and sadness. I didn't fully understand why.

“I'm done with you,” my father spat, his voice laced with contempt. “You're dead to me. Let Kolya deal with you.”

Relief and sadness entwined, even as the blood pounded in my veins, and I wished I could hit him, just once, without losing my hand and my position in this family.

My father's rejection stung, but I welcomed the change. This was my path now, one I would walk with pride and resolve.