Page 68 of Fractured Ties

“Vadim,” Konstantin greeted.

Kolya finally glanced over his shoulder, and Maya felt how his hands instinctively tightened their hold on her in an instant. “Vadim.”

The brothers’ greeting was not rude, nor unkind. And yet, their tones held little warmth or affection.

Even had Konstantin not said the man’s name right away, Maya still thought she would have known this was Kolya’s father simply by looking at the man. They shared the same strong features and ice-blue eyes. The square jaws and cut cheekbones were the same. Their statures were both large and tall, although Vadim looked as though some of his had migrated to his middle over the years.

Still, it was enough.

Their familiarities were clear.

“We had this handled,” Konstantin said to his father.

“Is that what you call this?” Vadim barked, gesturing at the wound his son sported. “And what in the hell were you thinking, no? You had no business stepping in on something that had nothing to do with you. You shouldn’t need to be told that. Getting in the middle of your brother’s fucking problem. You know better, Konstantin.”

“A problem you helped along,” Kolya said darkly.

Vadim’s head swung back in Kolya’s direction instantly. “Excuse me?”

Kolya said nothing, but he did turn around to face his father. Slowly, and with the grace of a sure predator unafraid of what might be waiting for him, he turned. Although, he made sure to stay close enough that Maya—even sitting on the bed—was practically swallowed by his size in front of her.

Like a wall between her and the danger.

His back was tense. His spine—ramrod straight.

She fisted the back of his shirt for reasons she didn’t even know. To keep him close maybe because some part of her just knew he wanted to jump the gun and bolt forward straight for whatever he felt was threatening her. Another part just wanted to feel him right then—maybe she could keep him calm. It seemed she was the hot button for Kolya. Or so Maya was learning.

All someone needed to do was suggest they were going to be some kind of problem for her, and Kolya was quick to flip his fucking switch on them. Violence and hell and pain all rolled into one and coming for whatever threat he saw as real.

It was terrifying.

Confusing.

And enthralling.

Vadim seemed entirely unaware of Kolya’s rigid stance or the thick tension in the room as he ranted on, unaffected. “You were told, Kolya! Step back, no? Let the Albanians have what they want and let the issue go. You were told—don’t deny it!”

“I—”

“And for what?” Vadim snarled, his gaze finally drifting to Maya over Kolya’s shoulder. Those eyes of his bore hard into Maya—pensive and yet dismissive at the same time. Cold, indifferent, and distant. Like he had seen something just like her before, and she was nothing fucking new or interesting to him. “For that? A woman, Kolya? All of this for her? There are a dozen just like her!”

Silence answered Vadim back at first.

Tense.

Long.

And sharp.

So sharp, that Maya swore the silence dragged along her skin, and burrowed in deep enough under her skin to reach her fucking nerves. In all her years being abused and used by her father and brother, she had never felt quite as uncomfortable as she did in this moment, staring down Vadim Boykov.

And yet, she refused to look away.

Not when he glared.

Not when his gaze narrowed.

Not even when he inched closer.