I’ve always been proud of my ability to remain calm. It took me some time for that side of me to grow, but as soon as I was out of my teenage phase, no one could get into my head.
Not my parents, not my siblings.
No fucking one.
I’ve always been self-sufficient and entirely self-reliant. As a result, it’s impossible for anyone to provoke me.
That steel-like will is being tested to its limits right now. Or more like, since that fucking Russia episode.
Every night, when I’m all alone, I stare at the two ugly stitched holes in my chest and replay the scene on that hill. The images of the man who opened fire and of Aleksandra standing right beside him plague me.
The complex feelings I had at that moment refuse to be erased. It’s been three and a half weeks since the incident. A week and a half since she snuck into my room, apologizing and promising to do anything so I would forgive her.
Anything but disclosing the identity of her fucking lover who was out to kill me.
And she helped him.
I flick my hand on the desk, sending the house of cards flying in all directions.
Viktor and Yuri, who are sitting opposite me relaying updates about the club and the cartel, freeze at my sudden burst of motion. Something they’re definitely not used to.
“If it’s about the cartels,” Viktor starts. “Don’t worry, Boss. Yuri and I will keep them occupied until you’re in better shape to personally meet them.”
“You don’t even have to,” Yuri supplies. “Juan doesn’t come all the way from Mexico. He sends his underlings. It’s neither disrespectful nor strange that Viktor and I take care of these shipments on your behalf. As for the club, Maksim and your late father’s senior guards are doing a good job keeping everything in check.”
I nod absentmindedly, just so they’ll think this irrational fucking mood is indeed about the state of affairs.
After they’re done with their daily reports, Yuri leaves, but Viktor lingers behind and locks the door.
He stands in front of the desk, legs shoulder-width apart and hands clasped. “I have gathered some information about the attack in Russia.”
I pause picking up my cards, then continue. “And?”
“I used the trackers you had on Lipovsky to pinpoint the location’s coordinates. The warehouse in that area as well as the surrounding landscape and my placement are almost identical to that of the warehouse where we had the last Special Forces mission.”
So my gut was right. That place was linked to the cursed mission where I lost my men. I was so sure Roman was behind the whole scheme, but maybe there’s more to it.
I neatly stack the bottom row of cards. “Have you figured out who owns that place?”
“According to our last mission, it’s insurgents and illegal weapons dealers, and while that’s true to an extent, I believe there may be hidden information about that particular mission.” He pauses. “You know of the Belsky Organization scheme, right?”
“The organization that clashed against the government and stored weapons, only for them to be wiped out?”
“That’s public and military general knowledge, but it’s neither as simple nor as justifiable as the tales indicate.”
I keep building my house despite the volatile nature of my dimming patience. “I don’t see why the Belsky Organization has anything to do with those two warehouses.”
“They were owned by the family.”
My gaze meets Viktor’s through the small triangles. “Didn’t the military have them wiped out?”
“Not all. It’s impossible to locate the entirety of their warehouses, considering they kept them hidden in places even the KGB doesn’t tread near. They could also have allies in those areas to help maintain their anonymity.”
“You’re talking as if they’re still alive.”
“I suspect that a few members are, yes. Otherwise, those warehouses wouldn’t have remained functional.”
“Some other group could’ve gotten hold of them.”
“They could, but it’s highly unlikely. That organization operated like a cult and no one aside from their inner circle members are aware of their strategic weapon vaults.”
“So you think the Belsky Organization members are the ones behind the last Spetsnaz mission failure and my getting shot?”
“It’s a possibility, yes. I’m not saying the late Mr. Morozov didn’t have a hand in it as well, but all the arrows point in their direction.”
“Riddle me this, Viktor.” I clasp my hands to form a steeple at my chin and lean my elbows on the table. “Why would they target me when I’ve never dealt with them?”
“Could be a mercenary mission or for a reason we’re not aware of. Their guards certainly turned into rogue assassins who are only interested in money after the organization’s famous cleansing.”
I adjust my glasses with my middle finger. Where does Aleksandra, who’s definitely not a Lipovsky, fit into the picture?
Is she in a relationship with the leader of the remaining Belskys?
Maybe she’s a Belsky herself. It makes sense with all the spying and acting suspiciously. There’s also the fact that she supposedly hid her gender because it’s dangerous to be a woman.
Whatever the case, she clearly thinks of me as an enemy. It’s no secret that Roman was involved with the Belsky Organization—one of his multiple foolish decisions. That one nearly got him in trouble with the Pakhan, so he said he’d take care of it.
If by ‘take care of it,’ he meant the annihilation of the organization, then I’m not surprised they would come after his heir—aka me.
I’m going to also take a wild guess that the people who kidnapped, tortured, and then sent Konstantin back in a duffel bag as a message belong to the same faction.
Was Aleksandra getting close to me to gain information?
No, she clearly passed that stage and moved on to the execution part, where she watched as her lover shot me down.
The red haze from that day blurs my vision and I have to close my eyes briefly to disperse the energy. When I open them again, my hawk-like focus returns. “I need all the information you can find about the Belsky Organization. Every file, every member, and every movement they’ve made before and after their alleged annihilation.”
Viktor appears stunned for a second, but then recovers. “That’s impossible, Boss. Even the government and its intelligence agency couldn’t figure out much about them, which is why they called for outside help to eliminate and get rid of their influence.”
“Dig deeper. Call your friends in the KGB, the Spetsnaz, and the military. I don’t care what you have to do in order to get me information.”
“I can try, but I’m afraid I can’t promise any results this time.”
“Just make it happen, Viktor. If we don’t know who’s after me, how can we stop it?”
“Got it.”
“Don’t get anyone else involved.”
“Not even Yuri?”
“To an extent. Don’t disclose all the information to him. Make it look like you’re still digging into the setup from the final military mission.”
He nods, then, after making sure I don’t need anything, steps out of the room.
My mind is left bubbling with different possibilities. I wasn’t in the military when the Belsky Organization was annihilated, but I’m apparently involved in some way. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have been targeted.
It must be because of my genetic relationship with Roman. That old man was always up to no good. Not that I’m any better, but I at least know which battles to pick and which to steer the fuck clear from.
One thing’s for certain, though. Aleksandra and her lover have something to do with that scheme.
A foul taste explodes in my mouth at that thought.
Lover.
I should fucking kill her for betraying me, but that’s just too light a punishment. She has to wake up every day and fall asleep every night tasting the bitter pill I’ve been surviving on ever since I woke up in the hospital.
With another flick of my finger, I destroy the half-built house of cards and stand up.
My physical strength has been slowly coming back, but I still have to be careful or else I’ll suffer a longer recovery period, and that’s just not something I need.
I step out of the office and go down the stairs.
“Kirill!” Karina catches up to me halfway to the entrance and interlinks her arm with mine.
She’s been joining me for my daily walks around the garden ever since I was able to start getting around.
Now, I only do them because she actually willingly leaves her room, usually dressed in some princess dress and boots, as if she’s going to a fashion show.
I don’t like the way some of my men look at her, which is why I had Viktor threaten to gouge their eyes out of their sockets if they ogle her again.
What? My sister is still too young.
She’s the same age as Lipovsky and you’ve been fucking her regularly for almost a year.
I shut down that sinister voice as a muscle works in my jaw.
“Are you better today?” Karina asks in a super cheerful voice that’s a reminder of her younger self. It’s reminiscent of a time when she either rode on my shoulders or hung onto my and Konstantin’s pants.
She used to ask him to carry her, too, but after she was yelled at by Yulia for being a spoiled brat, she’s never done it again.
“I’m fine.”
“You look so much better.” She strokes the stubble on my cheek and grins. “I like this look.”
“Should I keep it?”
“Yes! I’m going to get you the best suit that goes well with this look so when you get back out there, people will think you’re a model, because, duh, you totally are—” Her humor disappears as Yulia comes inside the mansion, followed by her ‘only’ son.
Karina subtly cowers behind me, her hand gripping my bicep hard. That woman not only failed as a mother, but she also made her own daughter scared and wary of her—for reasons unknown.
She lifts her head high like an arrogant monarch and doesn’t speak to us as she passes us by. It’s almost as if we don’t exist.
“It was nice to see you by my bedside, Mother,” I say out of pure spite.
She whirls around and narrows her eyes. “Oh, I was by your bedside, but only to make sure you finally died. I even prepared a funeral dress for the occasion. Unfortunately, you survived like the devil.”
“Aww, were you worried about me? I’m so touched.”
“Worried about you?” She laughs, the sound so venomous that even Konstantin cringes. “You are nothing to me, Kirill. Nothing.”
“Glad we feel the same.” I step closer to her, and Karina tightens her grip around me. “Since we mean nothing to each other, I’m happy to inform you that I have allies in your bank, dear Mama. Your own brothers and sisters prefer me in business matters. After all, I’m part of their family, too, no matter how much you try to convince yourself otherwise.”
“You—” She lifts her hand, probably to slap me. Karina forces her eyes closed, but the hit doesn’t come.
Konstantin grabs that hand and interlinks his arm with hers as he leads her to the stairs. “Don’t waste your breath on the likes of him, Mother. I will talk to my aunts and uncles…”
He continues offering vague consolations and everything someone like Yulia wants to hear. Before they disappear up the stairs, he subtly casts a look in my direction.
It’s brief, almost unnoticeable, but there’s that soft edge of my little brother who always tried to shield me and Karina from his mother’s toxic favoritism.
That side of Konstantin was supposed to be long dead, so why the fuck—
“Did you see that? Did you see that?” Karina asks with contagious excitement. “Kosta stopped her for us!”
“Don’t be so sure. He’s too far up his own ass to do anything for us.”
She swats me on the shoulder. “Don’t talk like that. He was really worried about you when you got shot and visited every day. Well, every day until you woke up, because he knew you’d be an asshole if you saw him.”
“He was probably spying for Yulia.”
“Stop it, Kirill. Just stop it. If you’re suspicious of people all the time, how are you ever going to be happy?”
What the fuck is happy?
Maybe happiness is reaching the top. Being so far above people that they fall and splinter to pieces if they ever attempt to get near me.
I don’t answer Karina, though, as we step out of the house. She’s about to tell me about a book she’s reading—which is usually what she talks about with this much enthusiasm—but stops herself when we’re faced with a small commotion.
My jaw clenches, and my wound burns as I stare at none other than Lipovsky. She’s standing by the main entrance wearing a dark gray suit and a blue button-down. Her hair is styled back, and her expression is solemn, cold, and, most of all, determined.
I want to grab her by the throat like I did over a week ago when she dared to demand to talk to me.
But this time, if I choke her, I can’t guarantee that I won’t accidentally kill her. Just the thought of her lover and her betrayal turns me into a raging volcano.
I don’t let it show on my face, but the fire is splintering me on the inside.
“You can’t be here, Sasha.” I hear Yuri whisper to her in a kind voice. “If Boss finds out—”
“I will kill you,” I finish for him.
Yuri and Lipovsky straighten. Her expression softens, but only for a moment, and then it’s closed off as she steps forward. “I want my previous position back.”
My eyes lock on her face. “That won’t be happening.”
“I’m not a weapon caretaker. I’m a sniper and a bodyguard. I demand my post back.”
“You think you have the right to demand anything from me, Lipovsky?”
Her spine jerks, and her lips part before she swallows. “I…won’t leave this place until I get my actual job.”
“I’ll take him back,” Yuri tells me and starts to drag her.
“No. Let him be.” I meet her darkened eyes that have been invaded with brown. “No one is allowed to feed him. When he’s starving to death, he’ll leave on his own.”
“I. Will. Not.” She has the fucking audacity to lift her chin and even glare at me.
I have to step away before I actually act on my depraved thoughts. All of them start and end with her beneath me confessing why the fuck she stood there when her lover shot me, then, apparently, took me to the hospital.
Viktor told me that, and he’s not the type who’d offer Lipovsky any sort of credit if it wasn’t true.
I can feel Lipovsky’s gaze at the back of my head as Karina and I wander into the garden.
Once we’re out of earshot, my sister blurts, “Why don’t you just give him his job back? What did he do? Didn’t he and Viktor save you? I just don’t understand.”
“Let it go, Kara.”
“But… Oh! He can be my bodyguard if you don’t want him!”
“No. He’s not allowed near you.”
“But why?” She glares up at me. “Just so you know, Kosta asked Sasha to be the head of his bodyguards.”
I slide my attention to my sister. “Did he, now?”
“He so did! But Sasha said he’s only your guard.”
A guard who lured me to my near death.
But that doesn’t matter, because the fact remains—her life is all mine now.
