Pavel
Kat’s voice is weak, her heart clearly broken at the sight of Vlad’s condition.
He’s sprawled on the floor, barely conscious. Blood stains his cheek, and his battered face has swelled so badly that one of his eyes is practically sealed shut. My stomach knots at the sight of him.
He tries to mumble something else, but his words come out in a broken wheeze.
Kat kneels beside him, tears streaming down her cheeks, one hand supporting his head in her lap. I want to rush over and help, see how badly he’s hurt, but the close presence of two armed men pins me in place. Their rifles hover too close for comfort, both pointed in my general direction, ready to fire if I so much as twitch.
Kat’s voice trembles. “He’s your brother,” she chokes out, brushing her free hand against Vlad’s temple. “Your own blood. How could you do this?”
Her eyes look over the other injuries littering his body. He’s been beaten; every ragged breath he takes is clearly painful. I’m guessing his ribs are broken.
Piotr sits comfortably at my desk, watching her meltdown with a dismissiveness that churns my stomach. His posture is rigid, arms folded over his chest, as if that alone proves he’s in charge.
Kat’s tears dampen her jawline. “Look at him!” she demands, pointing at Vlad’s swollen face. “You think this is okay? You think—”
“Shut the fuck up,” Piotr snaps, cutting her off. “He’s not dead, is he? You’re lucky I let him live this long.” He waves one hand like Vlad’s life is an afterthought.
Anger surges through me and I clench my fists at my sides, forcing myself not to lunge forward and tear Piotr’s throat out. If I do, these gunmen will shoot.
Kat’s grief morphs into fury. “You’re a monster!” she spits, tears still shining on her cheeks. “I thought you were cruel before, but this, your own brother—”
“I said shut up!” Piotr glances her way, his face darkening. “I’ve had enough of your mouth, Kat. One more word, and I’ll allow one of my men to handle you.”
“Don’t threaten my wife,” I hiss, menace in my tone. One of the armed men takes a half-step toward me. He lifts his rifle, but I don’t give him the satisfaction of even flinching.
Piotr stares back at me, lips curling in a malevolent grin. “If you haven’t noticed, you’re in no position to give orders, Fetisov. One wrong move and I put a bullet in her, then you.”
Kat’s gaze darts to me and I see the question in her eyes. Are we truly helpless here?
“You disappoint me, Piotr.”
He scoffs. “As if I care. You’re not my father.”
I take a breath. “No,” I say, letting my voice drop. “He’s dead, because you killed him.”
A stifled sob slips from Kat. Vlad, half-unconscious, tries to lift his head. I can see confusion and horror in his one open eye. Out in the hallway, I hear footsteps as men shuffle around, likely ensuring no reinforcements can get in. I can only hope that Nikolai got my text.
Piotr’s composure cracks for a split second. “You think I didn’t have my reasons?” he snarls. “I did what I had to do. The old man was too stuck in alliances and mergers, business shit. He would’ve let the city slip away. So yeah, I sent that truck to slam into their car. It was a swift end for old-fashioned fools.”
Kat’s strangled sobs tear at my heart. Vlad chokes out a half groan, half murmur of disbelief. The heartbreak in their faces is so raw, I can almost feel it in my own bones.
“You murdered our parents!” Kat shouts. “Do you even care?”
“Our mother was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time,” Piotr answers dismissively. “Collateral damage. I did what had to be done.”
Vlad coughs, and Kat strokes his hair again, trying to calm him. He’s in terrible shape; it’s a miracle he’s even conscious.
My head pounds, searching for a way out of this. Piotr’s men are everywhere. We’re unarmed, and we’ve just heard his explicit confession to double homicide. He won’t let us live if we keep pressing him.
Piotr shifts in the chair, crossing his arms again. Men with rifles remain near the door, forming a barrier. He glances between Kat and me. “So now you know. And now I have to decide if it’s worth it to let you live.”
Kat swallows, tears still flowing, but fury has taken over her expression. She’s lost so much already. Vlad clings to her side, wounded, in and out of consciousness. My mind races with the possibility that if we can hold Piotr’s attention a while longer, maybe my men can break through. But that’s a big maybe.
“You plan on killing all of us,” I say. It’s not a question. I can see it in his eyes that he’s leaning that way.
He doesn’t confirm or deny, he only sneers. That answers me well enough. If he was confident in sparing us, he’d play the benevolent victor. Instead, he just sits there, bristling with tension. He wants total power. No survivors.
I steel my voice, forcing a level tone. “If you do that, you’ll face the entire Fetisov Bratva seeking revenge. The Andreev men loyal to Vlad will turn on you if they discover the truth about your father. And there’s a good chance the Novikovs will swoop in to tear up a weakened city. You’ll lose everything.”
He scowls, brushing his fingertips along the desk. “I can handle them,” he says, but I catch the flicker of doubt in his eyes. He knows how risky a multi-front war would be.
Kat’s cheeks are wet, but she can’t tear her gaze from Piotr. “Handle them? You think murdering everyone solves everything?”
“Watch your mouth,” he snaps, but there’s no real energy behind it this time. “If you hadn’t stuck your nose in—”
I cut him off. “That’s not the point. The city will burn if you push this further. Kat and Vlad aren’t just random people, they’re Andreev royalty, just like you. They have loyalists, too.”
Piotr’s men shift around uneasily. The hush weighs heavily. I keep my posture relaxed, though my gut is twisting. If I push too hard, he might snap. But I have to propose something.
“Send your men out,” I say. “Let’s talk privately. No need for them to overhear. You want real power? You want a city that won’t turn into a war zone? We can negotiate or are you so far gone that you’d rather swim in blood?”
His gaze flicks to Vlad’s battered form, to the tears staining Kat’s cheeks. He exhales sharply, the tension crackling. For a moment, I think he’s going to reject me outright. But then he jerks his chin at his men. “Out. Wait in the hall.”
The leader hesitates, gun lowering slightly. “Boss—”
“Go,” Piotr growls, glaring until they shuffle out, rifles at the ready as they step into the corridor. The door remains ajar, but the immediate threat is gone. Relief seeps into my lungs.
Kat still cradles Vlad, who’s breathing in shallow, pained bursts. Piotr glances up at me, guarded. “Fine. Talk. What’s your brilliant plan, Fetisov? Come on—your life depends on it.”
