Page 92 of Savage Bratva King

She thinks about it, the roaring flames creating golden patterns across her face. “I agree with my sister. Either way, we’ll be right beside you as we’ve always been.”

It’s all I needed to hear.

“Contact Sergei. Arrange a meeting with Xander and make it clear that if he arrives without Gianna, I’ll understand that we are at war until the last man is standing.”

Tamara’s phone is already in her hand. Ivana is about to protest, either aware of her sister’s betrayal or having picked up on the tension between us, but I gesture for her to leave it be. This is Tamara’s chance for redemption. The sisters may have been my weakness all along, but I can’t turn my back on either of them without first allowing them to prove their loyalty.

“Now we wait.”

* * *

We are running out of rival territories to invade by the time Xander responds to my request. The delay has done nothing to soothe my temper, which has morphed from red-hot and hellish to the icy chill of a cold-blooded serpent with a taste for revenge. Someone should warn him.

Or not.

I’ve waited too long to watch him squirm and am almost tempted to kill him anyway. The only thing stopping me is knowing that he is married to Gianna’s sister Melissa, and I can’t face a lifetime of knowing that I lost the woman I love because I refused to let my enemy live. I will not allow him to have that power over me.

We arrange to meet in neutral territory on the outskirts of the city in a vacant lot of self-storage lockups.

I arrive first with Ivana and Tamara. Against their advice, I send Marco away in the car when he drops us off and warn my men to keep their distance and wait for the order to attack. When, or if, required. Everyone is under strict instructions to ensure Gianna’s safety, no matter what happens.

I don’t fear death.

When you live with the constant threat of it, death becomes a natural part of life. A stepping stone between this existence and whatever follows it when we pass. I’m not anesthetized to the sight of blood; I’ve simply learned to compartmentalize it inside my head. It’s a coping mechanism that I developed as a child after witnessing my first murder at the hands of my father.

So, when Xander Amory’s car rolls into the remote compound with the headlamps killed, the adrenaline rush spiking through me has nothing to do with the fear of losing my life, and everything to do with the alarmingly real terror that I might never get to see Gianna again.

My only consolation is knowing that her sister and my people will do everything in their power to keep her alive.

The car slowly comes to a halt some distance away from where I’m standing with Ivana and Tamara. The engine ceases purring. The night envelops us in balmy silence.

“Wait here.” I don’t look at the women flanking me.

“No, Pakhan.”

I don’t glance behind me, but I sense Ivana blocking her sister’s path with her arm as I stride purposefully towards the only car in the vicinity.

I’m a walking target. Xander might have the place surrounded by guards with their weapons aimed directly at my head, but I’m unarmed, and I’m trusting him to honor our mutual arrangement.

My heart thuds dully as I stop at an acceptable distance from the vehicle, my hands by my sides. The windows are tinted. I can’t see if Gianna is inside the car, but I’m acutely conscious that if she is, she’ll be watching me right now. How does she feel? Is her heart racing at the sight of me, so close but untouchable? Does she want to run to me, fling her arms around my neck and beg me to take her home?

Or have Xander and her sister had enough time to convince her that what we feel for each other isn’t real? My chest constricts at the very real prospect she might never want to see me again if they’ve been successful.

The front passenger door opens.

A woman steps out of the car, closes the door behind her with a gentle click, and faces me.

The resemblance to Gianna is uncanny, only this woman is a little taller, her features a little more defined than her younger sister’s as though life has filed them down to sharper edges. Her hair, even in the smoky twilight of the unlit compound, is as unruly as Gianna’s, and she walks towards me with the same easy gait. A reminder of what I’m missing.

Why is she here? I don’t know whether her appearance is a sign that Gianna is waiting for me in the car, or if Melissa came to break it to me gently that her sister wants nothing more to do with me.

The only thing I am certain of right now is that Melissa will have fought dirty to get her husband to agree to this, and there’ll be an army of men watching us, just itching for me to make a wrong move. I can’t blame Xander. I’d react the same way if this was Gianna meeting with him in my place.

“I’m Melissa, Gianna’s sister.” Her eyes appraise me, and I wonder what Gianna has told her about me. “Before we begin, I must ask you to swap places with me so that my husband can see my face. I’m sure you’ll understand why.”

I understand. Xander will have warned her to signal if she feels threatened. It’s a fair request, and one that I can’t refuse, not if I want this conversation to go my way.

It will also mean that my back is to Xander’s vehicle, and I’ll have to rely on sound and gut instinct alone to alert me to any movement behind me.

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