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Prologue
Anton
Two years earlier
Rage pulses through my veins like a living thing, consuming me from within.
I stare at the wall of my study, seeing only a red haze as my hands clench into fists.
The bastards.
They will pay.
Every last one of them.
The cool metal of the Tokarev on my desk is smooth beneath my fingertips as I stroke the barrel. An old friend who’ll know how to mete out cold justice when the time comes.
A sharp knock startles me from my brooding. I glance up to see Ivan in the doorway, his craggy face etched with concern. My fingers uncurl from the weapon. I take a deep breath, struggling to regain control.
“I know what you’re planning,” he says simply. I shrug. It shouldn’t come as a surprise to him. It is our way, after all. And I, of all people, should be expected to do it. For what they did. For what they dared to do. Every one of them will suffer.
“Keep out of this,” I growl. “This isn’t your war.”
“You cannot do this, Anton,” Ivan says quietly. “Revenge will not change the past. And the stakes are too high.”
My throat tightens. He must surely understand. It is our way. The rule of the Bratva that has been drilled into me since I was a boy. Besides, the rage is all that keeps me from shattering into a million pieces. If I let it go, there will be nothing left of me.
“I’m not afraid to die,” I mutter. “As long as I take all of them with me, it will be worth it.”
“I’m not talking about you,moy drug.” Ivan pauses, considering his words carefully. “Nikolai needs you,” he says.
My son’s name is a knife twisting in my gut. He’s barely three, still so young, so helpless. So vulnerable.
I stare at Ivan, wanting to roar in denial, but the words stick in my throat. He is right, damn him.
“Leave him out of this,” I say, regardless. My voice is gruff. The man’s hit a nerve.
“Nikolai has already lost too much. Don’t take his father from him, too,” Ivan says. For a man as brutal as he is, his tone is uncharacteristically gentle.
The rage simmers, a beast caged but not beaten. I look around the room I’m sitting in. A room in the home I fought so hard to build for us. So many memories here. A happiness I thought I’d never earn. Never deserve. Not after all that I’ve done.
“I can’t let them get away with it. They have to be punished. You know this is Bratva law,” I say, hating how my voice cracks with emotion. Emotion has no place in my world. Pain can only exist when I’m the one inflicting it. Feeling this surge of grief in my chest is a foreign sensation. I hate it.
I replace it with more anger.
“Would you put your child at risk for that punishment?” he asks. I stare at him for a second, understanding dawning. I’d been so intent on my hatred that I hadn’t thought beyond it.
“Who do you think they will come after next, Anton?” he says. Cold dread unfurls in my belly. I can’t risk him too. But the need to send a message is still driving me. It wars with my need to protect my own, and my conflicting thoughts leave me reeling. I can’t just let them get away with what they’ve done.
“They have to die,” I spit the words out like bullets.
“Yes,” says Ivan. “But do they have to die now?”
I stare at him. I want to gather my weapons and take everyone out now. This minute, while the hurt is still fresh. I want to look into their eyes as I gut them and watch their lives drain away with their blood. I want them to share in my banquet of raw grief.
“Yes,” I finally respond, the word laced with finality. I’ve made up my mind. This is the path I have to take.
“You realize that is exactly what they’re expecting, don’t you?” Ivan tilts his head, his eyes appraising. “They’ll be waiting. You may be the best they have, but there are others – enough of them to take you down, even with all of your…talents.” He stops for a second. “And then they will come after Nikolai to wipe your name from the earth once and for all. I doubt it will be an easy death, Anton.”
