Page 73 of Sinful Union

Piotr’s composure cracks for a split second.“You think I didn’t have my reasons?” he snarls. “I did what I had to do. The old man was too stuck in alliances and mergers, business shit. He would’ve let the city slip away. So yeah, I sent that truck to slam into their car. It was a swift end for old-fashioned fools.”

Kat’s strangled sobs tear at my heart. Vlad chokes out a half groan, half murmur of disbelief. The heartbreak in their faces is so raw, I can almost feel it in my own bones.

“You murdered our parents!” Kat shouts. “Do you even care?”

“Our mother was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time,” Piotr answers dismissively. “Collateral damage. I did what had to be done.”

Vlad coughs, and Kat strokes his hair again, trying to calm him. He’s in terrible shape; it’s a miracle he’s even conscious.

My head pounds, searching for a way out of this. Piotr’s men are everywhere. We’re unarmed, and we’ve just heard his explicit confession to double homicide. He won’t let us live if we keep pressing him.

Piotr shifts in the chair, crossing his arms again. Men with rifles remain near the door, forming a barrier. He glances between Kat and me.“So now you know. And now I have to decide if it’s worth it to let you live.”

Kat swallows, tears still flowing, but fury has taken over her expression. She’s lost so much already. Vlad clings to her side, wounded, in and out of consciousness. My mind races with the possibility that if we can hold Piotr’s attention a while longer, maybe my men can break through. But that’s a big maybe.

“You plan on killing all of us,” I say. It’s not a question. I can see it in his eyes that he’s leaning that way.

He doesn’t confirm or deny, he only sneers. That answers me well enough. If he was confident in sparing us, he’d play the benevolent victor. Instead, he just sits there, bristling with tension. He wants total power. No survivors.

I steel my voice, forcing a level tone. “If you do that, you’ll face the entire Fetisov Bratva seeking revenge. The Andreev men loyal to Vlad will turn on you if they discover the truth about your father. And there’s a good chance the Novikovs will swoop in to tear up a weakened city. You’ll lose everything.”

He scowls, brushing his fingertips along the desk. “I can handle them,” he says, but I catch the flicker of doubt in his eyes. He knows how risky a multi-front war would be.

Kat’s cheeks are wet, but she can’t tear her gaze from Piotr. “Handle them? You think murdering everyone solves everything?”

“Watch your mouth,” he snaps, but there’s no real energy behind it this time. “If you hadn’t stuck your nose in—”

I cut him off. “That’s not the point. The city will burn if you push this further. Kat and Vlad aren’t just random people, they’re Andreev royalty, just like you. They have loyalists, too.”

Piotr’s men shift around uneasily. The hush weighs heavily. I keep my posture relaxed, though my gut is twisting. If I push too hard, he might snap. But I have to propose something.

“Send your men out,” I say. “Let’s talk privately. No need for them to overhear. You want real power? You want a city that won’t turn into a war zone? We can negotiate or are you so far gone that you’d rather swim in blood?”

His gaze flicks to Vlad’s battered form, to the tears staining Kat’s cheeks. He exhales sharply, the tension crackling. For a moment, I think he’s going to reject me outright.But then he jerks his chin at his men. “Out. Wait in the hall.”

The leader hesitates, gun lowering slightly. “Boss—”

“Go,” Piotr growls, glaring until they shuffle out, rifles at the ready as they step into the corridor. The door remains ajar, but the immediate threat is gone. Relief seeps into my lungs.

Kat still cradles Vlad, who’s breathing in shallow, pained bursts. Piotr glances up at me, guarded.“Fine. Talk. What’s your brilliant plan, Fetisov? Come on—your life depends on it.”

Chapter 33

Kat

“Alright, Piotr,” Pavel says. “Let’s talk.”

Vlad’s bloodshot gaze flicks to me as I adjust my hand beneath his head. He’s trembling, bruised everywhere, and barely able to stay alert, but still insists it’s not as bad as it looks.

“Vlad,” I whisper, “do you think you can stand?”

He breathes a ragged breath. “I’ll manage.” His mouth curls, like he’s forcing a grin through the swelling. “Just…give me a hand.”

I slide my shoulder under his arm and haul him up, worried I won’t be able to hold his weight. He groans softly, and I fight to keep him from collapsing back onto the floor.The battered look in his eye crushes me, but there’s a flash of pride there—he refuses to be seen as helpless.

Piotr sits at Pavel’s desk, arms folded, posture rigid. His men hover just outside the door, rifles ready. My pulse pounds in my ears. Across the room, Pavel watches as I struggle to help Vlad, and I know there’s fiery anger simmering under his calm demeanor.

“Vlad,” Pavel cautions, “take it slow.”

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