Page 2 of Torn Souls

I can feel my brother’s irritation from across the room. I’m not the only one. Betty’s face pales slightly as she pastes a fake smile on her face. She looks down and then tries to peer at Kirill from underneath her lashes, trying to appear innocent. It doesn’t work.

To his credit, Kirill’s face is unreadable even as a fire burns in his eyes. Can’t she feel the danger coming off him? Most people are smart enough to recognize it and give a wide berth. But there are women, like Betty, who are like moths to the flame.

I’m not sure they would be able to stay away even if they tried. They want to be burned. What they don’t realize is they aren’t the kind of women who would rise from the ashes, they would simply be swept away with the breeze.

This is why Kirill was always destined to be in charge, to be the leader. I’m more than happy to stand at his side, to be his hand when needed and to be the distraction he needs when things get too heavy. Some would resent him in my shoes, but I never have.

Kirill thrives in the spotlight and I’m more than happy to keep it trained on him. I work better in the shadows.

Betty clears her throat as awkwardness blankets the room. Her eyes sweep over toward me and then to Huck, but neither of us give her the reprieve she’s hoping for.

Never going to happen.

“If you don’t need anything else,” her words hang in the air, the question left unanswered and her expectations falling like dead leaves around her.

“I think you’ve neglected your desk for long enough,” Kirill’s words are final.

This time it’s Huck who tries to hide a chuckle with a cough. It doesn’t work. Betty’s cheeks turn pink as she scurries from the office like she’s finally recognized how the hellhounds are nipping at her heels.

Tension eases as the door closes behind her, but the sound of her heels clicking on the floor is a faint echo of her presence. Huck runs a hand down his face as Kirill blows an aggravated breath through his nose.

Before anyone can say anything, Baker Dalton strolls into Kirill’s office with a confused look on his face. He glances back toward the door and then looks at each of us. While pointing over his shoulder, his question comes out slightly confused, “Why was Betty practically sprinting down the hallway looking like a freshly bleached sheet?”

Huck’s jaw clenches and his nostrils flare with how hard he’s trying not to laugh. My control shatters and I bark out a laugh.

The look Kirill gives me is filled with cold fury. I shake my head at him, but he already knows he doesn’t scare me. What’s the worst he could do to me?

Sure, I know he wouldn’t think twice about beating my ass, but at the same time I wouldn’t take it without giving it back. We’re brothers, that is how it is between us.

“Betty needed a little reminder of where she should be and the scope of her responsibilities,” Kirill’s voice is flat with an edge of steel.

The confusion on Baker’s face vanishes with understanding for a moment before it’s back in full force. He shoots a look at Huck before pointing toward him. “I thought it was your dick she was currently trying to jump on.”

Huck smirks and even Kirill’s stoic mask slips and the corners of his mouth tips up. Huck holds his hands up in surrender before sauntering toward one of the chairs in the office and sitting.

“It has been,” Huck confirms with a roll of his eyes and a huff of annoyance. “But we all know it’s the big boss man she wants to ride the most. She thinks she’s invaluable here. Irreplaceable.”

I snort out a laugh because we all know everyone is replaceable. Even us. It’s how we gained power in this city in the first place. The only surefire way to stay on top is to be the most ruthless and the most willing to shed blood.

It also helps to have friends in the right places. And to not be total dicks.

If Kirill had set out to take over all of Morozov’s businesses, I don’t think we would have stayed in power even this long. But since we came here with the goal of shutting down Anatoly’s trafficking and drug businesses, it gave us some sway and some trust with those who wanted the same.

That is how we now have the Devil’s Saints Motorcycle Club on our side. And those are definitely men you want fighting with you instead of against you. They understand the city in the same way they understand violence.

Their goals are the same as ours and while spilling blood for the right reasons won’t make any of us lose sleep, we share a moral compass.

Women and children are sacred. They shall not be harmed by the ego of men who can’t appreciate that protecting someone is a sign of strength instead of weakness.

Kirill waves his hand dismissively. “She’s unimportant and needs to focus on her job.” We all nod, knowing the truth in his words. He leans forward on his desk, his forearms bracing against the surface. He directs his question toward Baker, “Has Hendrix and his team checked in with any new information?”

Baker’s face clears completely, all amusement now gone as he shifts into work mode. He shakes his head curtly. “I’ve gotten an update, but there’s nothing new to report. They’re running down any leads on Mikhail through his dealers. The problem isthat he seems to still be underground and is using others as a go between.”

When Kirill growls in frustration, I’m barely able to swallow down the same sound. I just want to be done with Mikhail and everything Morozov. Taking down his father wasn’t enough.

Mikhail was raised in the image of his father. When we took out Anatoly, the plan was to take out the entire family, to unburden the city completely of their darkness. But Mikhail lived.

It’s just a matter of time before he stops hiding in the shadows and makes a move against Kirill. We’ve been chasing his rats while he hides.

---