Chapter 14

Victor

Three weeks later

“IS SHE still not talking?”

I lean back in my chair, swirling the amber liquid in my glass. The dim light of the VIP room casts shadows across Ksenia’s face.

“No,” I grunt, taking a swig of my whiskey. It burns going down, but it’s a welcome distraction from the frustration simmering under my skin. “Not a fucking word.”

Ksenia sighs, her perfectly manicured nails tapping against the table. “It’s been three fucking weeks, Victor.”

I grit my teeth, the muscle in my jaw ticking. What I need is for everyone to mind their own fucking business and stop asking me about what happened that day.

I had one job: to be there for her. But what did I do? I played the petulant kid, whining and bitching over nothing. Pathetic, really.

Downing the whiskey, the memory of finding Laura in that supply closet, shaking and terrified, flashes through my mind. I’d wanted to rip that piece of shit ex-husband of hers apart with my bare hands, but the coward had slipped away like the snake he is.

“You think I don’t know that?” I snap, slamming my glass down harder than necessary. The sound echoes in the empty room, a harsh reminder of the late hour.“I’ve been busy, Ksenia. In case you forgot, we had to handle Papa’s surgery.”

It’s been a goddamn circus since the wedding reception. Between dealing with the fallout of that little incident and making sure Papa got the best care possible, I haven’t had a moment to breathe, let alone play therapist to my traumatized bride.

Thank fuck the surgery went well, at least.

The stubborn old bastard refused to go to a real hospital, insisting our private clinic was good enough. If it hadn’t been for Doc’s steady hands, I might be planning a funeral right now instead of a fucking dinner meeting.

Ksenia lifts her wineglass to her lips, taking a slow, deliberate sip. She swirls the crimson liquid around in the glass, her eyes never leaving mine as she savors the taste.

Setting the glass back down on the table with a precise clink, she leans back in her chair, crossing her long legs at the knee.

“Honestly, Victor,” she begins, her voice as smooth and cold as the surface of a frozen lake. “I don’t know what you expected. You marry a girl from outside the family, you’re bound to have problems. Especially one with a past as murky as hers.”

She reaches into her pocket and pulls out a sleek, silver cigarette case. With practiced ease, she plucks a cigarette from the case and places it between her lips. She doesn’t offer me one. She never does.

“But since you’re so determined to play house with your little charity case,” she continues, her words muffled slightly as she lights the cigarette with a matching silver lighter, “you need to get her to talk. Fast.”

I watch as she takes a long, slow drag, the end of the cigarette glowing a dull red in the dimly lit room. She exhales a stream of smoke, the acrid scent mingling with the rich aroma of the wine.

I feel my jaw clench, my fingers tightening around my glass until the crystal creaks in protest. It takes every ounce of my self-control not to slam it down on the table, to let the rage boiling inside me spill out in a torrent of bitter words and recriminations.

But I know better than to show weakness in front of Ksenia. She’s like a coiled viper, always ready to strike at the first sign of vulnerability. If I give her an opening, she’ll use it to assert her dominance, to remind me of my place in the hierarchy of our family.

So, instead, I take a deep breath, forcing my muscles to relax one by one. I meet her gaze head-on.

“She’s a Morozov now, Ksenia. Like it or not, that makes her our responsibility.”

She waves a dismissive hand. “She’s your fucking responsibility, little brother.”

Ksenia takes another drag of her cigarette, her eyes narrowing slightly as she studies me through the haze of smoke. She taps the ash into a crystal ashtray on the table.

“If you want to keep your little princess in line, you’ll need to start breaking her instead of being alovesick puppy. Find out what happened with Dave Jankowski and deal with it before it becomes a bigger problem for the family.”

I clench my fist, biting back the urge to snap at her again.

She’s right, damn it all. Laura’s my wife, and I need to deal with her on my own.

But every time I try to broach the subject with Laura, she clams up tighter than a virgin’s asshole.

Ksenia leans back in her chair, a smirk playing at the corners of her lips.

“What’s so funny?”I ask.

“Dave Jankowski. What an adorable little cockroach. I’m impressed that he could sneak into the wedding unnoticed,” Ksenia muses, her tone deceptively casual.

I slam my fist down on the table, the sudden violence of the gesture making the glasses jump. “I don’t give a flying fuck how impressed you are, sister. The fact that this piece of shit was able to get anywhere near Laura is unacceptable.”

Ksenia raises an eyebrow, unfazed by my outburst.

“Well, we’ll need to look into that, won’t we? If someone like Dave Jankowski can waltz into a Morozov wedding without being spotted, what does that say about our security?”

Fuck!

Come to think about it, that fucker has been lurking around since the goddamn wedding. I remember seeing a shadow slinking in the background at the church, but I was too preoccupied with the ceremony to give it much thought.

Son of a bitch, he’s been watching us this whole time, waiting for his chance to strike.

I grit my teeth, the muscle in my jaw ticking. She’s right again, as much as I hate to admit it. We can’t afford any weak links, not now, not with Papa’s health hanging in the balance.

“This cannot happen again,” I growl, my voice low and deadly. “I want our security protocols reviewed and tightened immediately. No one gets within a hundred feet of our family without being vetted six ways to Sunday.”

Ksenia’s fingers dance across the screen of her iPad, pulling up a video feed. She slides the device across the table, her eyes hard as flint.

“You need to see this, little brother. It seems our resident cockroach got a bit too handsy with your new wife.”

I grab the iPad, my jaw clenching as I watch the footage. It’s grainy and dark, but I can make out two figures in what looks like a supply closet. My vision goes red as I recognize Laura’s face, her features twisted in fear and anger.

And there, pinning her against the wall like a fucking piece of meat, is Jankowski. His face is inches from hers, his hands gripping her arms hard enough to leave bruises.

The rage boils up inside me like a volcano ready to erupt. I want to reach through the screen and rip his fucking throat out, to paint the walls with his blood for daring to touch what’s mine.

No one lays a hand on my wife. No one.

I’m going to hunt this bastard down and make him wish he’d never been born. I’ll break every bone in his fucking body, starting with the fingers that dared to touch Laura.

And then I’ll let Ksenia have a turn.

My sister clears her throat, suddenly serious. “I would have brought this to your attention sooner, but you were tied up taking over everything from Papa’s businesses. Preparing for the future, I assume?”

“I’m on it, Ksenia,” I grunt, running a hand through my hair in frustration. “Our old man is still running the business like it’s the goddamn Stone Age. I’ve been drowning in paperwork for days, trying to make sense of all this shit.”

Ksenia nods, her expression grim. “You better catch on quick, little brother. Papa’s gone and declared you the next Pakhan. Trust me, not everyone’s going to take that lying down.”

I feel a weight settling on my shoulders, heavy and suffocating. There’s always some ambitious bastard waiting in the wings, ready to challenge the new boss and make a grab for power.

“I’m picking it up as damn fast as I can,” I grunt, the muscle in my jaw ticking. With Papa’s health failing, I’ve been spending every spare moment learning the ropes.

Being the Pakhan… It’s a heavy burden, but one I’ve been preparing for my entire life. My father has been grooming me for this role since I was old enough to hold a gun, teaching me everything he knows about the business.

And Ksenia has been by my side every step of the way, my fiercest ally and my most trusted advisor. She may be cruel, but her loyalty to the family is unshakable.

“I’ll be ready,” I say, my voice low and determined. “I won’t let any of those dickheads get close to our family or threaten the Morozov Bratva.”

Ksenia’s lips curve into a ruthless smile. “That’s the spirit, little brother. We’ll crush anyone who dares to challenge us. The Morozov name will be feared and respected, just as it always has been.”

I glance at my watch, the hands ticking closer to midnight.

Where the hell are the others? We don’t have all night.