Page 23 of Fate and Family

“What does this mean?” I ask.

“Well, obviously, someone else shot Viktor.” He’s silent for a moment, then says, “At the very least, she’s lying to us. She might have a partner who took the shot, or she set the wholething up. I don’t know. Maybe she’s trying to destroy us from the inside. It is weird she didn’t even try to defend herself from Viktor when we saw what she could do to Mikhail.”

He’s right. Something about what she did to Mikhail—the speed, the precision—didn’t sit right with me.

A new sense of dread crushes my nuts like a vice grip. I’m in love with her. I wanted to bring her into our family. But now she’s the one who might be trying to destroy it all.

It’s fate. I’m never going to be happy. Not now, not ever again.

Chapter

Eleven

Katya

I’ve got bad vibes about tonight. Something feels off, and my instincts have kept me alive too long for me to ignore them. I’ve been to tons of parties, I’ve been a honey pot before—this isn’t something new. But still, tonight feels weird. Even worse, my dress doesn’t leave me any place to hide a weapon.

Markus did recon on this place a few days ago and tonight he’s posing as a waiter. He’s supposed to be here, but I haven’t seen him yet. I’d feel better if I had eyes on my partner instead of relying on a hopeful prayer that he’s safe.

I checked in with the base an hour ago, and we’re all good. But my gut says to check in one more time before walking into the lion’s den wearing a dress made of meat.

The party is at the mountain house, not the villa. It’s isolated, safe, with only one way in and out. Logically, everything seems secure, but I can’t shake this feeling of dread.

One deep breath, and then I’m out of the car.

The mountain house is lit against the night sky. There’s a grand entryway, and the second level has a wraparound balcony. Recon says there are two hidden passageways underthe building, but they were sealed off years ago. Recon also discovered that the windows are bulletproof—no outside attacks.

The hallways through the house are lined with fine art and marble floors. It’s more of a California-style interior than the traditional European regal aesthetic. The house is already filled with guests—a few underbosses, oligarchs, and a smattering of family here and there. It’s a different crowd from the previous party.

Uri stands in the corner in a bespoke black suit. I wave to him, and he replies with a curt nod of his head—not even enough movement to stir his slicked-back hair. A sort of cold reception. I walk through the crowd, taking in all the details. Tiffany jewelry, designer dresses from last year’s fashion week—everything paid for with stolen money or earned in some dubious way.

Still no reply from my most recent check-in. They have a few minutes to respond—everything changes so quickly, and my messages are low on the chain of command.

Dimitri stands next to his brother, pulling on his sleeves. His hair is styled, and his suit custom fit for his body. Only people with money look this good. But there are dark circles under his eyes, and he stifles a little yawn. His brother nudges him, and when Dimitri turns in my direction, his lips curl at the corners.

My body moves toward him, like I’m being pulled by an invisible string.

Damien nods at me, letting out a low whistle. “My God, Katya, you look incredible.”

“Thank you.” I spent two hours on hair and makeup, and this dress with an A-line cut took an extra ten minutes to get on with all the damn little buttons in the back. I should look incredible for all the work I went through.

Dimitri’s gaze remains unwavering as he stares at me, like he’s deciding whether he wants to eat me or kill me. We’ve had hundreds of interactions, but my body reacts differently thistime. Usually, I can keep my desires at bay and only allow my brain to imagine his mouth on my body when I’m alone in my bed. But something about the way he’s staring at me—the way his tongue moves in his mouth and his lips part—makes me wish I could taste him.

“Katya,” he says, extending his arm to me, “care to take a walk?”

I link my arm with his. “How could I refuse?” I couldn’t, even if I wanted to.

The people all vanish into sounds and bodies as I lean into Dimitri’s arm and breathe in his cologne.

“My brother is rarely correct, but tonight, I have to agree with him—you look incredible.” His voice is quiet, meant only for my ears.

“Thank you.” As he leads me away from the crowds, I offer a bit of honesty of my own. “You look tired.”

He huffs. “I haven’t slept much.”

“Oh, why?”

“Svetlana.”

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