Page 52 of Brutal Monster
"Yes." Juan turns back to me, eyes harder now. "And what does a Zhukov do with traitors and threats?"
I meet his gaze steadily. "The same as a Bravo. We eliminate them."
“You understand our world, but I want to ensure my daughter knows she doesn’t always need to take a life. The decision should be hers.” He places a hand on my shoulder, his grip firm. "Now go back to your bride. Enjoy the celebration. Later tonight, you can settle this matter permanently."
"Agreed."
We rejoin the party, where Inez is speaking with a senator's wife, champagne glass in hand. She looks completely at ease, as if there isn't a potential assassination plot unfolding at her wedding. When she sees us, something flickers in her eyes—understanding passing between us without words.
I slide my arm around her waist, pull her close. "All good?" she murmurs.
"For now." I press my lips to her temple. "Your brother made his move. We'll handle it tonight."
She takes a sip of champagne, her lipstick leaving a perfect crimson mark on the glass. "I want to be there."
"Wouldn't have it any other way, Mrs. Zhukov."
Her smile is razor-sharp. "I think I like the sound of that."
Around us, the reception continues—music, laughter, the clinking of glasses. A celebration of our union, unaware of the blood that will be spilled before the night is through. The perfect wedding day for people like us.
A beginning written in vows and sealed in blood.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
INEZ
Iscan the room as Vanya leads me to the center of the dance floor, one hand pressed firmly against my lower back, the other holding mine. My wedding dress shimmers under the crystal chandeliers, catching light with every movement. The guests part like water, their eyes following us—some with admiration, others with scrutiny. In our world, there's always scrutiny.
"You're tense," Vanya says, his voice low enough that only I can hear.
"Just alert," I correct him, offering a practiced smile for the benefit of our audience. "There's a difference."
His hand tightens slightly at my waist as he guides me into a turn. The orchestra plays something classical and elegant—chosen for appearances, not personal taste. Nothing about this day was personal, except for the vows we exchanged in private before the ceremony. Words meant only for us, promises darker and more binding than what we spoke before witnesses.
"We found him," Vanya whispers against my ear, his breath warm on my skin.
My step doesn't falter, but something cold slides down my spine. "Adan?"
"Yes." Vanya pulls me closer as we move across the polished floor. "My men intercepted him half a kilometer from the compound. He had three others with him. Armed."
I keep my expression neutral, though rage flares hot beneath my skin. "Casualties?"
"One of his men. The others are secure."
The music swells around us. I catch my father watching from the edge of the room, his expression unreadable to anyone but me. He knows something's happening–he always knows.
"Where is he now?" I ask, my fingers tightening around Vanya's.
"Warehouse at the marina. The old processing facility." Vanya's eyes hold mine, steel-gray and calculating.
"He's my stepbrother," I say quietly. "And he's my responsibility."
"Our responsibility now." Vanya's correction is gentle but firm. "That's what today means."
The music shifts, and he guides me into another turn. I catch glimpses of faces as we move—business partners, rival families, politicians who've taken our money for years. All smiling, all watching. No One knows that beneath this perfect veneer, blood is about to be spilled.
"I want to see him," I say. "Tonight."
