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Unsure if I wanted to know the details when, from experience, I was well aware that it was better to stay out of things like this, I whispered, “Did you have to kill Svetlana?”
“Of course I did,” he said with a sneer. “You killed the Pakhan. Do you think she’d stay quiet? She’d have run you to the ground as soon as spit on you.”
I thought of the baby brother or sister she’d been carrying, a child who’d put Victoria’s life in danger, who’d triggered the flipping of that switch in my brain and as horrendous as it was, as evil as it probably made me, I couldn’t find it in me to be regretful.
That child, had it been a boy, would have perpetuated the nightmarish Vasov legacy.
As it stood, the only Vasovs still living were the unwanted girl children. But we knew what it was to love thanks to Mama. We could change things. Could alter that legacy, imbue it with love.
I wanted that.
More than I could say.
My gaze flittered over Svetlana. She was sprawled backward on the uncomfortable armchair she was so proud of, her legs splayed, her arms wide, her face just...gone.
My father wasn’t much better.
His head was a pulpy mass that reminded me of ground beef. His brain was—
I snapped a hand up to my mouth again, but the metallic tinge to the air had me gagging once more.
“I need to get cleaned up,” I rasped, staggering upright, uncertain if I could stand to be in here much longer.
“You have five minutes,” he ordered. “I need you to look presentable.” He grabbed my arm and hauled me closer to him. When his hand came to my chin to force me to look into his eyes, I jerked back, but his hold on me tightened. His eyes were dark and stormy as he intoned, “I’m doing you a solid, Camille. I’ll expect your help when the time comes.”
Fear had me flinching in his hold.
Maxim wasn’t a man I knew well, but I’d seen him come up through the ranks, and like most teen soldiers, his life and devotion to the Brotherhood inspired pity in me. Duty to the Bratva wasn’t love from a family, but they acted like it was.
The Bratva wouldn’t hug you at night or congratulate you on a win.
They’d just coat your soul in blood and get you locked away in a cell for a lifetime...
God, was that going to be my fate?
Was he about to blackmail me?
“What kind of help?” I whispered. “How can I help you?”
“When the time comes,” he repeated, “you’ll know.”
Maybe I was feeling brave, either that or stupid, but I rasped, “I owe you—”
“Bet your ass you do,” he interrupted.
“—but I will never spy against the O’Donnellys.”
His lips twisted. “The Bratva bitch is capable of loyalty, after all.”
“Like you can judge,” I snarled.
“My loyalty is to the Bratva. Not to an individual.”
I swallowed. “Well, I’m the opposite. I’m loyal to the people who count, and no one besides my sisters ever has under this roof.” I knew that I had to go, that time wasn’t on my side, but… “Why, Maxim? I thought you loved him.”
He hitched a shoulder, his gaze darting over to my father. “He was becoming a liability.”
I frowned—was that his justification for this treachery? For helping me when, by all rights, I should be on my knees, his gun burrowing into my nape as I awaited my punishment?
