Page 90 of Savage Bratva King

“Don’t thank me yet. Xander isn’t going to know what’s hit him.”

I flex my fingers on my right hand. “I think he already does.”

* * *

Xander is in his study when we go downstairs. Mel knocks three times on the door like it’s their secret code, and he calls out, “Come in,” sounding as if he’s a thousand miles away, not just on the other side of the door.

Mel glances at me, eyebrows raised, and I nod.

I can sense the tension emanating from the crack around the door, but we have no choice. Without Xander’s approval, I’m a prisoner in his house until this is all over, and this won’t be over until at least one of the two enemies is dead.

Quelling the thought of Leo dying at my brother-in-law’s hands, I follow Mel inside.

The study is larger than our father’s. Xander is sitting behind a solid mahogany desk in a wide leather seat that seems to embrace him like those neck cushions people use on long-haul flights. A bookcase filled with leather-bound books consumes the wall behind Xander giving him the air of a bestselling author who uses it as a backdrop for his social media posts.

Three men dressed in standard mafia black nod to Mel when we enter and leave the room, closing the door behind them with an unobtrusive click.

I look at Xander. There’s a shadowy bruise on his left cheek from where I punched him, and his eye is puffy and bloodshot, but that aside, he has aged since I went to Montenegro two years ago. The grooves across his forehead have deepened while I’ve been away, and the stubble on his chin has a hint of silver in it now that I never noticed before. He’s still good looking, just a little more worn than he was when he first met Mel.

His eyes roam over me from top to toe checking, as Mel did, for signs of physical abuse at the hands of my captor. I stand tall and raise my chin, defiant under his gaze, reminding him that I can look after myself.

“You’re welcome,” he says without a trace of humor.

I instantly bristle. “I never asked you to rescue me. I was doing just fine where?—”

“Okay.” Mel shuts me down with a warning look. “What’s going on, Xander?” She obviously sensed the tension in the atmosphere too, and she knows her husband better than anyone.

“Nothing you need to worry about. I’ll handle it.”

He looks as if he’s in fight-or-flight mode, sitting forward in his seat, ready to either dismiss us and run, or pull a gun from his top drawer and tell us that he’s off to kill himself a Russian mobster.

“That’s what worries me,” Mel says.

She doesn’t sit down but stands beside me. Sisters united.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” His tone is cold, menacing, and I wonder if he sounds the same when he and Mel are alone or if he softens like chocolate left out in the sun the way Leo does.

“This war…”

“This war that just destroyed fifty percent of my assets?” His eyebrows arch jaggedly. “This war that cost me more men than I cared to sacrifice in order to rescue your sister?”

I open my mouth to protest a second time and change my mind. I need to be patient and let Mel handle it.

“What assets?” Mel asks in a voice that sounds wary.

“Warehouses. Vehicles. Dru-electrical goods.” Xander is speaking to Mel but watching me like this is somehow all my fault.

“I never wanted to get caught up in this stupid vendetta if that’s what you’re thinking,” I blurt out before I can stop myself.

“Stupid vendetta?” His eyes become small and dark. “You think you can do better, then go right ahead, and be my guest.” He stands, pushes his seat back, and gestures for me to take his place behind the desk.

“This isn’t her fault, Xander, and you know it,” Mel snaps. “They’re just buildings. It’s only stuff. Everything can be replaced.”

“At what cost?” He remains standing.

“We have enough money to buy more warehouses.” Mel squares up to him. “But there isn’t enough money in the world to replace my sister.”

Xander’s gaze flits between me and Mel. He’s breathing heavily like he just completed the four-hundred-meter sprint. “What the fuck are you talking about, Mel?”

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