Page 122 of Fractured Ties

What did they need Kevlar for, anyway?

Didn’t they know—

A vest was slammed against Kolya’s chest, taking his attention away from the handful of men prepping for their next move. He met his brother’s gaze, but he could tell just by the hard set of Konstantin’s jaw that his brother was not in the mood for an argument from Kolya.

He wondered if his brother was up for a punch in the mouth.

“Put a vest on, brat,” Konstantin demanded.

The corner of his lip twitched—a slight provocation of a smile, although he was sure it would come out bitter, and dark. “Since when do you care, yeah?”

Konstantin gave him a look. “Put the fucking vest on.”

His brother hit him with the vest again and let it go. Kolya caught it before it could drop to the ground. Shit, if putting on the Kevlar meant they were going to get out of this alley quicker and start the show, then he didn’t mind doing that.

As it was, Kolya was too numb.

Too quiet.

There was a very real possibility that if he got Valbon Gashi in his sights tonight—or any fucking Albanian—then things would end badly. He’d been on this train of thought for three fucking days.

Too many days, really.

All he was allowed to do while information was gathered to make this move against the Albanians was fucking think. Stay stuck inside his head and imagine the worst possible things a man like him could conjure up in his messed-up mind.

If she was hurt …

If she was in any worse condition than he’d left her …

Bad things were coming.

Bad things had a name—it was Kolya.

Konstantin pulled out a rifle from the back of someone’s trunk—an AR-15 by the looks of it. The trunk was full of them. He passed the gun to a waiting man, and then gave Kolya another look while he finally strapped on that vest. Maybe a little too tightly, given the way the Velcro bit into his shoulders, but he didn’t care.

Everything was an afterthought right now—pain, care, and life. Nothing mattered, and he could do without it. If he could forget to breathe until this was over, that’d be fucking perfect. Who needed air, anyhow?

“What?” he barked at his brother.

Konstantin straightened with a new rifle in his hands, which he offered to Kolya. He yanked the gun out of his brother’s hands while Konstantin murmured, “Nothing. You just look … distraught. That’s the right word, yeah? Hopeless.”

Kolya’s eye twitched and he switched to Russian when he said quietly, “Don’t say that.”

“The truth?”

“My weakness.”

Because Maya was exactly that for Kolya. He was too fucking good at hiding everything. The world and people around him knew nothing of Kolya except for what he showed them. How was he ever going to protect Maya when he couldn’t hide how he felt about her? How could he protect himself when it was obvious what would be the easiest thing to use to get at him?

For the first time in his life, Kolya felt a genuine fear that wasn’t a byproduct of being a boy and hearing heavy footsteps coming after him. A fear that was not a result of someone beating it into him.

He did not know what to do with it.

Konstantin cleared his throat and was quick to look away. “Prosti.”

“Let’s just go, yeah?”

“Ready whenever—”