Page 63 of Scarred Bratva King

“He deserves it.”

Then Dmitri. “It’s been hours. He’s got no teeth left. I’m not sure he knows what’s going on anymore. Just kill him and be done with it.”

I peer through the crack in the door, my breath catching in my throat at the sight before me.

The room is dark, lit only by a single overhead bulb that casts harsh shadows. Maxim stands in the center, his shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows, his hands covered in blood.

His face is a mask of icy control, his eyes fixed on the man slumped in the chair before him.

The man is bruised and bloodied, his shirt torn and soaked with sweat. He’s groaning, head lolling from side to side.

I smell burnt flesh, the same smell I remember all too well. My hand goes to my arm, feeling the scar Marco gave me.

Maxim picks up a knife from the table beside him, its blade gleaming ominously under the light. “Then I guess it’s time to say goodbye.” His tone is devoid of emotion.

I press a hand to my mouth, stifling a gasp. My stomach churns as Maxim grips the man’s head.

The man screams as the knife digs into his throat, the sound tearing through the room and through me. I want to look away, to run, but my feet are frozen to the floor.

I’ve seen glimpses of Maxim’s darker side before, but this is something else entirely. This isn’t the man who held me in his arms and whispered that I was safe. This is someone utterly ruthless.

The light in the man’s eyes fades away. The silence is unbearable, stretching taut like a rubber band about to snap.

I step back, my foot catching on the edge of the carpet, and a small gasp escapes me before I can stop it.

Maxim’s head snaps up, his icy gaze locking onto the doorway. For a moment, his expression falters, a flicker of something softer breaking through the mask.

“Veronica,” he says. “This door was supposed to be locked.

I turn and walk away, my breath coming in short, panicked bursts.

I don’t look back.

Tears sting my eyes as I retreat to my room, my mind racing. The man I just saw is nothing like the one I thought I was falling for. How could someone so brutal ever be the kind of father my child deserves?

I sit on the edge of the bed, my arms wrapped around myself, staring blankly at the wall.

The memory of what I saw in that room plays on an endless loop in my mind—his cold detachment, the blood on his hands, the man’s screams. The smell of burning. Maxim burned him just like Marco burned me. They’re the same.

“Veronica,” Maxim’s voice is low. I look up. He’s in the doorway.

He steps inside, closing the door softly behind him. The dim light from the bedside lamp casts shadows across his face, making him look both dangerous and tired.

I don’t move. My throat is tight, but I force the words out. “What do you want?”

He exhales, his jaw tightening as he takes a step closer. “You weren’t supposed to see that.”

“Who was he?” My voice wavers, but I hold my ground.

“One of Lombardi’s trusted lieutenants. Killed three of ours in a bomb attack today. Took out their families with them. Pets too. He knows the interior of Lombardi’s place. Gave us all the intel we need.”

I shake my head, the words tumbling out before I can stop them. “You’re a monster.”

“Get real.” His expression hardens, and for a moment, I think he might turn and leave. Instead, he steps closer, his voice a growl. “This is how I protect the people I care about, Veronica. This is how I survive. You think cake and tea would get the truth out of a man like that?”

I look up at him, my chest aching with a mix of anger and sorrow. “Is that what you tell yourself? That the ends justify the means?”

His jaw clenches, and he looks away, his hands curling into fists at his sides. “You don’t understand. You’ve never had to make these kinds of choices.”

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