Page 72 of Between Us

“Still in shock.”

“I bet she never saw somebody getting shot in the head before. They deserved it, yeah, but seeing that shit for the first time is never easy. You know this.”

“I know.”

“She'll forget,” Stepan said. “Eventually.”

Roman ran a hand over his mouth and sighed. “Hopefully.”

???

He arrived atBeluga1just before sunset. Grabbing the heavy trash bag from the trunk of his car, Roman made his way inside, heading straight for the office at the back of the club, with Stepan and Dimitri walking behind him silently.

A few people were busying about, preparing for the opening that was in less than three hours. Someone greeted him, but he didn’t reply, the whooshing of bloodin his ears making it hard to concentrate on anything but the meeting awaiting a few doors down.

Dr. Hall had assured him Alessandra was physically fine; her bruises mostly superficial. Even so, the way she'd looked at him as he left their bedroom was still imprinted on his retina. Needless to say, he was eager to get this over with so he could return to her.

Not bothering to knock, Roman opened the door and entered. Everyone was already there, including his father who sat behind his desk, nursing a tumbler of vodka.

The room grew silent as soon as Roman made an appearance. A few men threw cautious glances at the bag in his hand, most of them already recognizing the meaning of it in the midst of an emergency meeting. Also, the blood trickling to the floor did nothing to hide the content of the bag.

Roman met his father's eyes. With a slight nod of Vitaly's head, he received permission to start the meeting.

“Today, three of our brothers betrayed us,” Roman spoke, his voice calm despite the rage poisoning his blood. “They took my wife from my goddamn home and planned to kill her.” Reaching inside the trash bag, he pulled out the severed heads one by one, letting them fall at his feet noisily. “This is what happens to traitors.”

It was a gruesome sight even for the most seasoned Brigadiers. All the men in the room were hardened criminals, but most of them didn't have to deal with severed body parts on a daily basis. A well-placed bullet was the easiest way to get rid of someone, and it wasn't too messy. Seeing the bloody heads and the frozen expressions on the dead men's faces couldn't be too easyto stomach, even for such a gathering of callous mafia men. Dimitri had taken the task upon himself, having the most skill with the knife from his years spent in his father's butcher shop as a teenager.

In truth, even Roman found the whole show macabre, but he knew it was necessary to make a statement. The day's events could prove extremely dangerous for the Bratva, and neither he nor his father could risk a repeat of that.

“Fucking Boris?” Nikolai gritted, his eyes flaring as he stared at the gory mess on the floor.

“Boris and his loyal pet Sasha. They somehow convinced Ivan to join their cause.” Roman tossed the empty bag to the side, procuring a handkerchief from his pocket and wiping his hands. He made sure to look at the men present when he spoke. “Let's get one thing straight. I don't give a single fuck how any of you feel about my marriage to Rossetti's daughter. If another man in the Bratva so much as looks at her the wrong way, what I did to these assholes will look like child's play. Am I making myself clear enough?”

Murmurs of approval erupted around the room at once.

“And just to give you an extended preview of what is to come for those of you who disobey my orders and oppose my decisions,” Vitaly added, leaning forward in his chair. “Boris's wife will be stripped of every single cent or asset belonging to the Bratva as punishment for her husband's disloyalty. In other words, she will be left with nothing.”

Roman thought it was a little harsh, but it wasn’t his place to say anything. Besides, he didn’t really care.

“Why did they do it, boss?” someone asked.

Vitaly glared at the man. “How should I know, Vova? I’m not a mind reader, and they’re all dead. We can’t really ask them, can we?”

“They were pissed about the alliance with the Italians; isn’t that clear?” another man answered.

Vitaly raised his hand, not in the mood to entertain a debate on the subject. “We shall consider this a lesson learned for everyone. Pass on the message to the men under your command.”

More murmurs of approval.

Done with asserting his dominance, Vitaly leaned back in his chair and resumed nursing his drink. “Meeting dismissed.”

The men rose from their seats and quietly headed for the door. On his way out, Stepan met Roman’s eyes, silently asking if he needed him to stay. Roman gave a subtle shake of his head, and Stepan walked out, closing the door behind him.

As soon as they were alone, Roman turned to his father. “You and your fucking games. This is what happens when you piss off everyone on all sides.”

Vitaly's eyes narrowed in warning at his son’s insolent tone. “I’m asking again—are you accusing me of something, Roman?”

“You are partially to blame, yes. You knew what this marriage would bring upon us. Our own men are turning against us. This has never happened before.”

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