Page 93 of Filthy Lies

“A setup,” Vince concludes. “Coordinated between the families.”

“If they’re working together to eliminate us,” Daniel says, wincing as he shifts his injured arm, “what do you think they have planned for you three?”

I feel Vince’s entire body harden with renewed tension. So much for a happy beach day.

“Welcome to our family vacation,” I say with bitter humor. “Looks like you arrived just in time for the real party to begin.”

34

VINCE

When Arkady told me that Daniil and Anastasia were at our perimeter, injured and desperate, I knew our stolen moment of peace was over.

Now, twenty-four hours later, I’m staring down the barrel of another kind of invasion.

“This is unacceptable, Vincent.” Mikhail Volkov’s fist crashes against the conference table. “Harboring a Petrov? In your home? With your wife and child?”

The emergency council meeting has devolved exactly as I expected. Twelve men, each with the power to command small armies, sit around my table, questioning my judgment. My loyalty. My commitment.

My fuckingsanity.

“Daniil has proven his value,” I respond, keeping my voice as level as humanly possible despite the rage boiling just beneath my skin. “And Anastasia is under my protection.”

“You speak of protection?” Boris Barsukovic sneers from across the table. “While housing the son of our greatest enemy? While your own father sits under house arrest?”

I don’t miss the way his eyes flick toward the door where I know Rowan is tending to Sofiya. Motherfucker is threatening me.

“My decision stands.” I maintain eye contact with Boris.

I dare him to push further.

He does.

“Perhaps fatherhood has made you soft, Akopov.” His lips curl into something resembling a smile. A snake’s smile, that is. “Perhaps that pretty wife and little daughter of yours have distracted you from your responsibilities.”

Every man at the table goes still. They recognize the line that’s been crossed.

I don’t move. Don’t blink. Don’t breathe. Until…

“Say that again.”

Boris shifts in his seat, suddenly aware of his mistake. But pride makes him double down.

“I said—” he begins.

I’m across the table before he finishes, my hand around his throat, squeezing just enough to remind him how fragile the human windpipe truly is. His eyes bulge as I drag him from his chair.

“My daughter’s name doesn’t belong in your filthy mouth,” I hiss, tightening my grip. “My wife is not a distraction. They arethe fucking reason I’m sitting at this table instead of burning this organization to the ground and you along with it.”

Boris claws at my hand, face purpling. The other council members watch, frozen.

No one intervenes. No one dares.

“You think I’m weak because I protect what’s mine?” I continue. “You think love makes me vulnerable?” I lean closer, close enough to see the bursting capillaries in his eyes. “Love makes me more dangerous than you can possibly imagine.”

I release him suddenly. He collapses to his knees, gasping and clutching his throat.

“Anyone else want to question my commitment?” I scan the table, meeting each man’s eyes in turn.

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