Page 10 of Tattooed Vow

“Andrei’s brother,” Aleksandr continues, voice low. “Sergei was never just an enforcer. He was the spine of Andrei’s operations. Smart and brutal. Loyal to the end. But he crossed a line. Several lines.”

He’s not telling me anything I don’t already know, but I stay quiet. He needs to say it. To remind us why we did what we did.

“He was running women through Kazan. Girls barely old enough to be called women. Some from our own neighborhoods. Some trafficked from overseas. Killing them when he was done with them and dumping them like trash. I warned him. He laughed and said the Bratva would bend the knee eventually. That there was nothing I could do to stop him.”

Aleksandr’s knuckles go white around the bottle. Plastic crinkles beneath his grip. For all his control, some things still crack through. Protecting the innocent is one of them. It’s what separates us from men like Sergei.

“So, I sent you.”

The memory slams into me, sharp and vivid like it happened yesterday.

Sergei’s apartment reeked of vodka and cigar smoke. The wallpaper was yellowed and peeling. He opened the door with a crooked grin, gold tooth flashing.

“Popov,” he greeted, already knowing why I was there. The bottle in his hand was half-empty, but his eyes were clear.

I didn’t speak. I shut the door and drew my gun, the silencer already in place.

He chuckled, lifting his glass. “You won’t do it. Aleksandr won’t risk war.”

“Aleksandr already made the call.”

His smirk vanished. He reached for a knife, but he was too slow. I wasn’t.

One bullet between the eyes. He dropped. His blood pooled under him, thick and red against the threadbare rug. I watched the light leave his eyes.

I had no regrets…until now. Because now I know Andrei isn’t done. And this time, he’s not aiming at just me.

Aleksandr wipes sweat from his brow. “So, he’s back. And he’s watching.”

I nod. “He’s not here to negotiate.”

“No,” Aleksandr growls. “He’s here for war. And with everyone gathered today… it’s no coincidence.”

We both know what that means. The party. The family. Sandy. They’re all targets.

Aleksandr crosses his arms, jaw tight. “We need to prepare. Quietly. I don’t want the family to panic.”

“Understood,” I say, though we both know what Andrei wants. Blood for blood. Brother for brother. An eye for an eye until we’re all blind.

Aleksandr looks at me, his expression unreadable. “Andbrat…”

“Da?”

“Keep your head clear. Distractions will get you killed.”

He knows. Maybe he saw me with Sandy. Or maybe he just knows me too damn well.

I nod, but the taste of her kiss still lingers. Her touch. Her voice. The way she whispered my name made it seem like it meant something.

Aleksandr walks out, leaving the gym door to swing shut behind him.

I sit on the edge of the mat, staring at my hands. There’s blood on my knuckles, some old, some fresh. It never washes off. Not really.

Sergei’s death replays in my mind. His arrogance. The way his blood soaked the floor.

Would Sandy look at me the same if she knew? If she understood what these hands have done? What they’d do again to protect her?

My phone buzzes on the floor beside me. Blocked number.

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