5. Vlad

The adrenaline has fully left my system, and the ache is starting to set in my muscles. Giving Dima and Misha their instructions, the latter hangs back. He doesn't speak straight away, not wanting to be overheard, and tries to be authoritative.

"Ineska didn't say what happened, only that they grabbed her but, did they touch her?"

I don't like the familiarity in his tone as he uses her short name. If he has some crush from childhood, he better fucking kill it. I lean forward, ignoring my anger at those filthy bikers touching her and it latches onto the man who has known her since she was a child.

"I appreciate your concerns regarding my wife." He doesn't flinch, and I add, "But she is my responsibility."

He would be more suited to her than me. They're close in age, he listens to her talk shit and doesn't get pissed about it.

He shakes his head and reminds me of their family secret as he lowers his voice.

"She's blood, don't make it into something sordid."

Inessa has managed to make me do something I never do and forget all the pieces at play. No one knows who impregnated Dariya with Maximoff burying the secret, and it was supposed to be the ace up my sleeve should I ever need it. But Inessa has altered my brain and rearranged the pieces so she's at the center of every living thing. I nod and relax back into my seat, knowing he won't touch her. Valya steps into the office, and they swap places.

Before he can start his tantrum, I gesture to the decanter beside him, "Let me have a drink first."

I've seen him fight. He's deadly but acts like a child and rolls his eyes, setting it down in front of me with too much force.He gives me time to dull my senses and waits until I've had the first sip in peace. On the second, he opens his mouth.

"You should rethink your plan with Inessa."

Setting the tumbler on my desk, I take a controlled breath and wait for him to elaborate. She is mine, my wife, for however long I fucking decide. He continues taking liberties, knowing that he will never receive any punishment.

"She cares about you, and she's basically part of the family now. She's been cooking with Vik and taking him to the horses every day, so he's not alone or missing you."

There's a pause, which is never good, and he sighs, looking behind me before continuing.

"I just think you shouldn't do it. She wants to stay, and she's making this her home. It's bullshit that we all know it's going to end but she's sat out there arguing with Tali like she's not going to leave. If you get divorced, she'll lose that."

Discomfort snakes up my spine, and I tap against the rim of my glass, reminding myself why I'm doing this shit. Vanya, it's all so these idiots are safe, and I can be back with Vanya. My solnyshkuh, she's alone and even though it gets easier to breathe, there's still a hold on my lungs without her.

Separating the living from the dead, I give my brother the only amendment that can be made.

"Inessa will stay part of the family."

He relaxes, and I chase it away, repeating what he'll need to remember when the time is right.

"When I die, you'll become head of the family and you're getting initiated as a Vor before then. You'll give Inessa my legal accounts apart from those set up in trust, and she'll live as a Vartanova for as long as she wishes."

Bitterness coats my tongue at the thought of her not being linked to me. It's easier to count the things I'm not than what's true when it comes to my sins, but she deserves happiness, and I won't take it from her just because I'm dead.

Taking my tumbler, he downs the full thing in one gulp and shakes his head.

"You're a controlling, overprotective fuck. You'll stay alive just to make sure no one can get near us. Don't talk shit about dying when it won't happen."

He looks at me, and all I can see is the little scared boy who stared at the door waiting for my fights to end, or how he'd cling to my t-shirt when our parents were home, and the way his eyes would widen when he was cuddling Vitya under my bed waiting for me to get home. Refusing to let emotion derail the conversation with his sensitive ass, my smile comes out, knowing he'll be pissed.

"Each one of your tantrums makes it more enticing."

Clearly having his own mental conversation, he refuses to take the insult.

"I get why you did everything now. I hated sleeping in those fucking changing rooms that smelt of piss and sweat, Tali can't remember it, but that smell hasn't left my memory."

He doesn't see me go blank, remembering those fucking nights as he stretches in his seat. There's no emotion in my voice when I'm stating facts.

"He was three, he wouldn't remember."

Refilling the tumbler, he nurses it while making me an audience to his therapy session.

"And you were fourteen carrying toddlers into a fight, making a bed out of your gym bag so we'd be comfortable and padlocking the door to stop anyone getting near us."

He's always been the more emotional one in the dysfunction we call a family. It's what makes him a cruel bastard, his need for human connection. But this shit is weird even for him. There's no anger or resentment directed at me, and I'm looking for signs that he's dying.

He swallows around a lump in his throat as he voices his fears like he's three years old again and waiting for me to promise his bad dreams won't come true.

"I've never felt fear in my life because I knew you'd save my ass. Them cunts took my son, and I felt it for the first time." He looks up, scrubbing a hand down his face as his eyes turn red, "I get why you did everything you did for Tali and me. It's that fucking fear that makes you paranoid and crazy as fuck."

Ignoring his need to insult me when he's trying to be nice, I nod dumbly, not knowing what he wants.

He doesn't say anything else for so long that I'm sure he's got it out of his system, but he makes everything worse by opening his mouth.

"If anything happened to him, I don't think I'd survive, you know. You'll get it when Inessa is pregnant, this fucking fear is still in my chest, and I wish I kept him hidden like we did in the old house. He's too clever to be sat on his ass on all day, I know that, but I don't want anyone near him."

I'm numb, my body is shutting down knowing the depth of grief and how someone else's death can rob parts of your soul. It makes my voice cold as my finger bounces on my knee.

"He'll be safe, you all will."

I'm close to punching him or shooting him when he keeps pulling the worst topics out of his ass to torment me as though he knows every single point of contention in my life.

"Do you think Len ever felt like that with us? When he'd make us fight or just be a cunt? Or Anika? They must have, right?"

My laugh is bitter and more of a scoff as I correct him, "Do you think that man is a father? Or that bitch has a maternal bone in her body? They're both vultures, and they only had kids because they were too stupid to use birth control."

The tantrum starts as he takes offense and stands cursing under his breath, "You're a prick, sometimes a rubber breaks."

I know it's about his own introduction to fatherhood rather than the topic of who gave us their DNA. But I still fuck with him as I stand, leaving the weird-ass moment in my office.

"You know you can get a daddy online nowadays?" He just stares at me, and I add, "If you wanted a new one. They'll even pay you for it."

Despite Len's best efforts to taint my brothers, they were as protected as they could be. They've managed to maintain some lightness and Valentin continues cursing. I stop him before we can enter the hallway and hold his nape as I drop my voice to whisper, "He'll be fine, I'll talk to him and if he's still angry, I'll let him train with me."

He nods and stops his muttering as it's replaced with gratitude. Even though I was tasked with their punishments, at least I could control the force of my hand where he would revel in exerting as much as possible.Everyone in the world can be afraid of me, but the people under this roof will never know that fear.

The promise I made them the day we left Sankt Peterburg is about to be broken when I walk into the kitchen. There's nothing but threat in my tone, and it makes the world pause.

"Vitali, remove your hands from my wife."

He's pushing her, and she's hanging off the fucking seat. Holding his hands in the air, he sits up straight, and the humor of moments before has been killed by me.My voice is still rough as I call the attention of the person I came for, but he doesn't flinch.

"Viktor, follow me."

It's the game he created where he's a soldier, his way of dealing with not showing those who can't be trusted anything real. The mark on his temple is going to be given to every corpse who so much as looked in his direction. But there are more important things to deal with right now.

He's calmer around the animals, so I lead him to the stables. I don't say anything until we reach his horse. The thing snorts at me, and I do it back because I'm the one who pays for it to shit in comfort, and now I have to fucking smell it while it acts like a cunt. I stay at its back legs as I pull the stool closer, which Viktor always used, and lift him on to it so he can pet it.He looks around and points to something above my head.

"I need the brush, Thunder likes it."

It's a cliché name for the beast but I promised each child they could name their own horse. I'm sure Vitali has probably named his after food and Valentin has probably chosen a curse.

I always thought my nephew's first kill would be as an adult, one that I wouldn't be here for, as someone who was aware of himself and the world. It makes the conversation harder, seeing his small body on a stool because he can't reach. Passing him the grooming tools, I ask, "Are you angry?"

It's the one thing I remember, the insatiable anger that would only lessen in the split second between life and death.It has never gone away from the age of seven, and thirty-one years of that festering pit isn't something I wish for my family.

Shaking his head, he looks up at me and smiles.

"No. Dad asked me the same thing. I did good, right?"

Nodding my head, I stroke his hair back and kiss his crown.

"Yeah, malyshonuk, you don't have to do it again though."

He's bouncing back too quickly. There should be some form of reaction to killing someone. But he's blocked it out or rationalized it, making it a bigger problem for the future. I hope he turns into a whiny teenager as payback for his dad's insufferable outbursts.But he makes patterns in the horse's coat and spills his secrets.

"I think Dani was more scared than me, she was crying, and she wouldn't let go of my hand."

He's hypnotizing himself with each swirl and I soften my voice as I ask, "What else happened?"

His hand drops from his horse, and he looks up smiling, the same smile he had prior to being taken, but there's an eeriness to it.

"Nothing. I told my dad everything, and he said I did the right thing. I'm a Vartanov, remember, and you're the biggest monster there is, so nothing can happen to me."

I nod and ruffle his hair. He looks more like his dad now, and he has a better childhood than anyone else in our bloodline, meaning there's hope.

"Do you want to go in the paddock?"

I'm already reaching for his helmet, anticipating his answer when he stops me.

"No, I don't feel like it. You want to help me feed them?"

I let him guide me through each stall and greet each animal. He's happier once they've been fed and starts his demands.

"I want a dog."

There are guard dogs on the property, but he acts like they don't exist and rattles off the different breeds he's decided on as we walk back to the house. Copying my walk, he puts his hands in his pockets and straightens his shoulders while talking about his preferred dog.

"Nessa helped me look for one with Dani, and I want a Maltese. You have to buy me one."

Am I fuck getting a Maltese, I'll be like a bad movie villain with a fluffy little shit yipping at my ankles. Inessa would add it to their pampering sessions, and it would have bows in its fur, for fuck's sake.But he tries to make me agree and looks up at me with more strength than grown men.

"Or you have to get me a cat."

"You're allergic."

He smiles, the same smile he gives Dima when he's bested him in something and says, "Exactly. You can't say no twice. So, get me my dog. Tali will walk it."

Viktor runs off to harass Dani and practice his Portuguese with someone who's fluent as soon as we're through the doors. Inessa is still in the kitchen, but she's alone, and I'd rather see my brother annoying her than the sadness on her face. Looking up at my steps, she tries to smile, but it's off, and there's a slice of cake in front of her.Lead drops in my stomach at the sight of ptichye moloko and bile burns the back of my throat at the smell. I take the seat next to her and she leans into me while I lean my head back away from the disgusting plate. She stiffens and tries to move incorrectly, thinking my reaction is due to her.

I hold her hip to keep her at my side as I press my lips to her temple. She relaxes slightly, and I need her to be a brat.

"Is your tongue tired from all your constant talking?"

It works and she glares up at me.

"No, I cut it for you, but everyone said you won't eat it."

Oh fuck, she's upset because of something I can't do. The longer I stare into her sad eyes, the more I can feel my stomach turn, knowing I'm going to be throwing up all night.

My hand moves while my brain screams no. My throat is closing up as I pull the plate closer. I try to delay it and ask, "Have you poisoned it?"

I hope she has; it might stop it fucking with my head. But she shatters that hope and lightly taps her hand on my chest as she turns further into me.

"Not yet."

It's only random ingredients, for fuck's sake, inanimate and incapable of having a hold on me. I won't be weak and have something as stupid as cake defeat me. Taking the spoon, my jaw tenses as it comes closer to my lips, but I manage to push it in.

Every muscle in my body is revolting, wanting to get it away. There's no chocolate taste or light mousse, it's like drinking acid. She's unaware of my thoughts and leans her head against my shoulder as the sadness comes back.

"It's okay if you don't like it. Viktor said he'd never had it before and it's the only thing I'd help Dariya make," she says weakly.

I can't get my hand to stop with the knowledge my queen made it and her smile slowly lifting it. I'd prefer to eat shit, but Inessa can't see it on my face and relaxes further into my side. Her eyes slowly close and she drops her hand from my chest to hold my waist.

Without her happiness as motivation, I finally stop forcing it down and hold the spoon limply. I'm going to throw up. I can fucking feel it queuing in my throat, waiting to be allowed exit. Undoing my top button so I can breathe, a little snore comes from my side. I don't know what my wife did while I wasn't here, but it wasn't sleep from how exhausted she is.

I don't move as I try to get my throat to stop closing up. My mouth is disgusting, and I don't allow my teeth to rest together so I don't have to feel the texture of the mousse against my tongue. It feels like there are multiple hairs and screws in my throat, they coat the roof of my mouth, and my head drops back to allow me to breathe.

I move before I end up throwing up on her and lift her up with my arms under her knees. She's asleep, but she nuzzles closer, wrapping her arms around me and pressing her nose into my neck. Even with her snores, she's adorable as fuck, and her head rolls back as we step into the elevator. Her cheek is pushed up against my shoulder, making her pout, and there's an added softness to her already delicate features. Having her in my arms stops the vomit from coming out. It's going to happen, but my body knows the importance of the person in front of me and protects her from it.

She hugs me tighter as I walk through our floor. When I try to put her in bed she murmurs and holds the back of my head. I try three times, before she loosens on the fourth and allows me to lay her down. I stop myself from kissing her forehead as I pull the sheets up to her chin, so she doesn't get cold. Without Inessa in my arms, the bile is impatient and makes itself known, burning my throat.There's too much urgency to mute the door closing, and I hope to fuck she stays asleep. I don't need a witness to my weakness. I'm a fucking killer, dyavol was whispered when I was a child, but I'm throwing up because of confectionery.

There's nothing left in my stomach as I straighten and have to get a new toothbrush after Inessa's constant need to put mine in the toilet. Running the shower as I take every trace of that cake off me physically, the door slowly opens, and my wife has lost her sleep. She's full of genuine concern as she steps into the bathroom and doesn't speak through the threshold as per superstition.

"Are you okay?"

Nodding my head, I splash cold water on my face, and my voice is too rough without meaning to be.

"Go back to bed, you're tired."

She doesn't listen. If the day ever comes when she does as she's told, I'll need to have her examined for a parasite. She fits her body in front of mine and leans up on her toes. If I taste that horrible fucking thing on her lips, I'll never be able to touch them again. It's immature and stupid, but I can't push her away physically and nearly fucking choke her by jamming my toothbrush in her mouth. Her nose scrunches in disgust as she spits it out, and I laugh, feeling everything become normal.

"My tongue has been in your cunt, but my toothbrush is the limit?"

Her hands are warm, and I relax further as she holds my sides, admonishing me.

"Don't say it like that, it makes me feel used."

The sadness re-enters her eyes and I nod, letting her have her own way. My initial instinct that she would ruin me has come true. It's not a smile dipping that has me ready to give her whatever she wants. It's something a lot more dangerous. Her eyes. They're too expressive, and seeing sadness in them stirs a reaction in me as though I'm allergic to any negative emotion in them.

Pressing my lips to her cheek, I stop my hands from touching her and hold the vanity on either side of her hips. I'm contradicting myself as I try to send her away.

"Go to sleep, meely moy."

She wraps her arms around my waist and her chin resting in the center of my chest. She's cute when she wants to be, and I don't have the heart to physically push her away. So, I do it verbally, knowing she'll be pissed.

"Do you need a shit?"

The softness leaves her features, and she untangles herself from me as she pushes back to walk away. Her dress is creased, and she pulls it over her head as she mutters, "Such a gracious gentleman I'm married to."

She doesn't slam the door and I'm stuck in place, watching her ass. I can't touch her, though. I know my limits and how my body reacts. I'll be throwing up intermittently all night because of the fucking cake. So, I try to wait her out by showering and the hot water makes the purging worsen. I turn the water to the coldest setting to numb everything. The sharp droplets hit my skin, attempting to pull me into my head, into the night that will forever be engrained into my memory.

I look down, expecting to see blood on my skin mixed with thawed dirt and stones that stuck into my palms, but there's nothing there. I'm physically clean.

I'm not allowed to sink into it as soft footsteps come into the bathroom. Inessa pretends she isn't watching me through the mirror as she brushes her teeth. Worry is written all over her face and I stand there watching her, knowing the offensive taste is being removed from her. She hasn't changed into her awful orange pants and has a silk set on. The small shorts barely cover the curve of her ass as she spits into the sink. She's going to end up staying there until I get out, so I turn off the spray because the stubborn woman needs sleep.

As predicted, she finishes at the same time as me and fusses with wiping the vanity down as I dry off and pull on my shorts. I can feel her eyes on me. It's not out of appreciation. She's checking the wounds, and she winces as one of the stitches is knocked. Dima has been trained for this shit, to stitch me up because I refuse to have one of the doctors on our payroll do it when they end up trying to convince me to rest.

My wife takes that role as she stops fussing with the marble and starts doing that shit to me.

"You need to lay down and stop moving."

I stare at her lips, waiting for them to close as she comes to my side and presses her palm flat against my spine in an attempt to get me to move.

"Keep staring at me, I'll start screaming until you listen."

I'm not weak and grab her hips before she can stop me. She doesn't squeal and tries to pull all her weight down as I lift her off her feet and throw her over my shoulder.

"Vlad. Put me down. You're already hurt."

I ignore her and walk into our room to throw her on the bed. She bounces, and her hair falls in her face, blocking her smile. But she quickly sits up and grabs my hand to pull me down next to her. I can stay here until she falls asleep. Sitting beside her with my back straight against the headboard, I watch her get comfortable and she lifts the pillow to place it against my thigh. She sinks into the sheets as soon as her head hits it and I pull them up to cover her.

Her eyes close and her mouth opens as she asks, "Doesn't it hurt?"

I focus on straightening out the strands that have got trapped under her shoulder. My voice lowers to prevent her from losing any sleep as I continue combing my fingers through her hair.

"Physical pain is easy. It doesn't hold any weight — you heal and move on."

It has the opposite impact, and she twists her body to face me. Her knees are tucked up to prevent her feet from dangling off the side of the bed as she lays sideways. The low lights are making it more intimate, and my fingers don't leave her hair.

"What isn't easy?" she asks. I don't answer, and she lowers her voice, giving me an option. "Emotional pain?"

Grief.

I just nod so she doesn't latch onto the topic. But she continues, "Have you ever felt that?"

My voice comes out haunted as I take a deep breath. "Once."

She's examining me as I twist the strands of her hair, forming a braid without realizing. I can hear her thinking and pause, knowing it isn't the end of the conversation.

"The tattoo on your back?" she asks so hesitantly and quietly that I almost don't recognize the sound.

I forgot it exists after so many years, and I laugh because I know what she's thinking.

"I'm not gay if that's what you're trying to ask me."

She could have just said it plainly rather than the weird tone and slow speech. A small crease forms between her brows and my mouth opens as I smooth it out with my thumbs.

"Len was in prison until I was nine. When he got out, he found the recordings Anika made and pinned me down with his knee in my spine because I needed marking for what I'd done."

No one knows that other than the fucker who gave me his DNA. The other two guards who helped him are dead and are known as the first people I killed.

Disgust fills the air as my finger lifts, tapping the side of my thigh. It's not aimed at me as Inessa shuffles closer and wraps her arm around my hips.

"Why do you let them live?"

"Why should I allow them the peace of death?" I counter.

It's easier than saying I don't know. I don't have an answer for why I didn't kill them before leaving that house, I could have. I had the papers ready for us all to move but I didn't kill them. I could have built a new life, away from the Bratva, away from them, but I didn't. I'd have to break the only promise I refuse to in order to do that, and vengeance is more life-affirming than living with no end, no goal.

I'm pulled from my thoughts with a venomous plea.

"When we have a kid, I don't want them anywhere near it. I will kill them myself if you don't respect the decision."

My brothers were kept away from them as much as I could, the only times they weren't were when I had fights out of the area and I couldn't take them with me. Her child will have something more because its existence marks the end of anyone who could possibly harm them. As soon as she's pregnant and Maximoff confirms that he'll give me his vote as Pakhan, then it all crumbles. Everything will bleed and turn to soot.

Part of me wars with the other to tell her. That maybe she'll understand but I'd rather have this moment than see hatred in her dark eyes. I comb my fingers through her hair, undoing the braid before she can see it, and ask more questions about how I know how to do them when, publicly, there was no female in our lives. Anika doesn't count as human, she's reptilian like her husband.

I lean over her and stroke her cheek with my thumb as I ask, "Do you know how you teach a child that the fire is going to hurt them?"

She doesn't look away from me as she turns on her back, answering, "Let them get burnt?"

Gently tapping my thumb off her cheekbone, I correct her.

"No, let them see it burns you."

Valentin will raise the child. He'll do a better job than I could. Viktor will treat them like a sibling, and Inessa will remain in their life. If they don't allow something as fickle as biology to sway them, they'll all be happy, safe, and free. I'll burn so they never feel the lick of the flame of grief.

"You're really something under the whole I am Vlad the monster."

I blink and look down at my wife. She's smiling softly and curls her hand around my wrist.

"Something, hm?"

She nods and that curve deepens.

"Yeah, something really great."

The delusions of normalcy are going to get her hurt.

My voice comes out rough as I straighten.

"As long as you don't forget that the monster is there, you won't get hurt."

But Inessa is stubborn and argues despite how her lashes droop, exposing her exhaustion.

"You won't hurt me, you can't. Underneath all the blood you continue to bathe yourself in, you're a protector. You weren't meant to be this violent, destructive force. I see you, Vlad."

The last three words sound eerie, and I can't disagree with her. She has the uncanny ability to get under my skin but seeing too much will do more harm than good.

"You seem to have a problem with your other senses because you never listen."

Proving my point, she forces herself to stay awake and acts like she's my junior.

"Do you want me to come with you to the Vory? Play up your proximity to the Pakhan?"

Her mind is fucking extraordinary. I thought she was just being conceited when she said she'll play her part, but the longer I'm around her the more I see that she can back it up with her actions. I soften my voice as I reiterate the rules of the Vory.

"Women aren't permitted."

She gets offended, and her tone hardens. "I'm not just any woman."

Pride fills me as I stare down at her. It wraps around my voice, making it deeper.

"Trust me I know, you have a bigger set of balls than the majority of them fuckers, but I wouldn't trust them in a room with a goldfish, never mind my wife."

If one of them opened their mouths and tried to tell her to be quiet, I'd have to kill them. It would undo all the hard work I've put in and she'd end up complaining if it turned into an internal conflict with the different security groups.

She leans back, pushing her head into my thighs and stares at my face with her brows slamming together.

"Did you just compliment me? I think you did, but you said it so aggressively that I'm not sure."

I didn't think she had an issue with her ego that required it to be stroked. Inessa is beauty personified and she has a wicked mind to match.

"Do you need compliments when you have eyes and access to your reflection?"

She turns on her side and pushes one hand under her cheek as she fights a smile. "You just did it again. And to answer your question, yes. It would be nice if my husband actually liked something about me, rather than constantly telling me to shut up."

"Okay," I hum and massage her scalp above her ear. "Now shut up and go to sleep."

But she doesn't listen.

"Make me," she playfully fires back.

"Ride me."

"Make me," she repeats.

"Blow me."

"Make me."

"Sit on my face and cover my ears with your thighs so I can have peace."

"So romantic, I have butterflies."

She turns on her back, being dramatic and pressing her hand on her stomach before flicking her eyes back up to me.

"Oh wait, no, they're moths from your asshole personality, my mistake."

Gripping her jaw, I lift her up, cupping the back of her head with my other hand. The only way to get the brat to shut her mouth is by adding my own lips to the equation and she smiles against me. I'm not going to fuck her, she needs sleep, and I give her the words she needs to stop arguing.

"You're beautiful. You have a smart mouth and you're more intelligent than anyone I know. You're strong and you're a good wife, a good person. Now, go to sleep."