Page 173 of Anton

Arkady wipes blood from his cheek with the back of his hand. “Well, that was easy. We can handle this.”

I’m so happy for them…

“Is there anyone else for today?” Mikhail asks.

“No.”

“Maybe next time.” Arkady slaps a palm on his brother’s chest, amusement fitting over his features.

Ever since they were little, Arkady would always pick on his younger brother, who was born just five seconds after him. Mikhail, of course, has shown how he feels about it…using his fists.

We head back into the main room, and Arkady washes up at the sink by the bar, scrubbing blood away. I open the logbook again, pointing to a few names they’ll have to deal with next week.

“These four are late. This one has been warned, so don’t waste time with him. Make it clean and easy. The other two still have potential if they’re scared enough.”

Mikhail leans over the book. “And if they’re not?”

“Then they burn too.”

He grins. “I’m going to enjoy America.”

A ruckus starts upstairs, voices carrying down through the ceiling, our men speaking over each other. Another voice slips through them, a woman’s voice.

Arkady’s grin returns. “Well, this just got more interesting.”

We head upstairs, following the sound, where one of the guards stands near the entrance with his hands raised, looking torn between dragging the woman out and asking for help.

I don’t see her face at first, only long black hair and a small frame dressed in clothes that look slept in, but she stands her ground in front of one of the guards, a hand on her hip.

“I don’t know who owns this place,” she snaps. “But I’d like to see the manager because I am sick and tired of your people coming to my house and destroying it. I don’t know where Chad is. I haven’t seen that son of a bitch in over a week, so if he owes you money, join the damn club, because I sure as hell don’t have it.”

Mikhail’s face whitens, and he takes a single step toward her.

Arkady’s brows shoot up. “Ne mozhet byt.” It can’t be.

Do they know her?

One of the guards peers over at me for help, but she doesn’t notice. The other guard gives me a look that asks if they should take her out—permanently.

She keeps going, hands flying now, every word angrier than the last. “Are you even listening? Tell your people that if they want to kill me, they can go right the fuck ahead, okay? I’m damn tired of this. Just do me one freaking favor and do not lay a hand on my daughter, because she’s the only good thing I have in my life.”

Mikhail freezes.

Whoever the hell she is, she’s either brave or stupid. Maybe both.

She finally notices us, looking from me to Arkady, then to Mikhail. The color drains from her face as her shaky fingers fly to her mouth, but the shock quickly hardens into anger as she focuses on Mikhail.

“I should’ve known you would be involved.” Her words crack as she shakes her head. “Is that why you had my place ransacked? Because you wanted to hurt me?”

I start to tell her they had nothing to do with it, but Mikhail lifts a hand, stopping me as he steps forward, his face set with an intense glare.

“Aster,” he says, his voice too smooth. “It seems you think I have paid you any mind. In fact, until right now, I hadn’t even thought about you.”

He runs a finger up her arm, and her chest jumps with a harsh breath. When he catches it, the edge of his mouth turns up.

“But I’m glad to see you haven’t lost your feistiness.”

She sneers. “Are you the one in charge?”