Page 33 of Vendetta Vows

That's how we left it. No goodbye. No resolution. Just the ghost of our father driving a wedge between us, as always.

"Fuck!" I pound the steering wheel twice, a strangled sound escaping my throat as I scream.

Then I start the engine and peel out of the garage, thoughts racing faster than the speedometer.

Lev is dead. My brother is dead.

And I have to get to my nephew Mikhail before they can kill him too.

I'm breaking every speed limit between here and the studio when my phone rings. It's the production office. I answer it with one hand while swerving around a slow-moving truck.

"What is it? I'm on my way."

"Mr. Dragunov..." The production coordinator's voice shakes. "There's been an accident."

My blood turns to ice, freezing me from within.

No. No. No. No!

"What accident?"

"It's Mikhail."

The world around me blurs. My foot eases off the accelerator without conscious thought.

"What happened?" I grip the phone so tightly I hear the case crack.

"A prop gun." Her voice breaks. "The paramedics tried, but... he's gone, sir. Mikhail is dead."

Something shatters inside me. A sound escapes my throat that doesn't sound human.

"That's not possible." My voice doesn't sound like my own. "Those guns are checked. They're cleared. There are protocols?—"

"I don't know what happened."

"No one is to leave production until I arrive."

Before she can respond, I cut the call and slam my fist against the steering wheel, again and again until pain shoots up my arm. It doesn't matter. Nothing matters.

Lev. Now Mikhail.

Both gone in the same day.

I bring up my phone and scroll to a name I never wanted to call.

Tamara.

For nineteen years I've maintained as much distance as possible from her. But there's more at stake than her obsession over me and my dislike for her.

The girls... I need to make sure they're safe.

She picks up on the first ring.

"Ruslan." Her breathy voice answers. "I've been waiting for your call."

Of course she has. Even in tragedy, she finds a way to make my skin crawl. "You know about Lev?"

"Yes." No hint of grief in her voice. No surprise. "The police called five minutes ago."

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