Page 18 of Cruel Russian Pakhan
My emotions reeled like a tempest. The man who had cradled me minutes ago now looked like a grenade without a pin, ready to blow.
“Are you crazy?” I snapped, my voice breaking. “My family had nothing to do with that!”
I stared at him, stunned. Lev must’ve inhaled too much gunpowder out there.
“The more your family plays games, the more determined I am to win,” he spat. “I just didn’t think they were unhinged enough to open fire while you were right there!”
“You're the only unhinged one here! Why would my family want to hurt me?” I yelled. “Does that even make sense to you?”
“It doesn't have to make sense if they succeed in killing me!”
“With your line of work, I'm sure you've got dozens of enemies! My family had nothing to do with this!”
“You’re such a liar, Vera.” His voice was flat and cold. “And for that, you'll suffer the consequences! You’ll stay locked up until I find out the truth.”
“I’m not Vera!” I screamed, breathing heavily.
But he was already gone.
The door slammed shut. A second later, the lock clicked, and I was alone with nothing but my emotional turmoil to work through.
Chapter 7 - Lev
I slammed the door to my office and paced. The attempt on my life had to be Artyom’s doing. Who else could it be? But what the hell was he thinking, sending assassins after me while his sister was there? He put Vera in the line of fire like she meant nothing. That told me everything.
Artyom wasn’t just manipulative. He was dangerous. If using Vera was part of his game, then nothing was off-limits. I’d underestimated him.
That wouldn’t happen again.
I pulled my phone from my pocket and dialed. I already suspected Artyom was behind the attack, but I just needed proof to justify my retaliation.
Timur answered on the second ring.
“Find out who ordered the hit tonight. Let me know the second you do.”
I hung up before he could respond and dropped into my chair.
I’d been furious when I realized Vera had slipped out from under my nose again. But all the fire she spat at me vanished the second the bullets started flying. If I hadn’t moved her when I did, I’d be a widower. My siblings didn’t come to our wedding, but they’d damn sure show up for her funeral.
Maybe that’s exactly what Artyom wanted—a dead sister in my care to spark a full-scale war.
Hadn’t he trained her in battle, though? He had to have taught her at least how to defend herself, how to react to certain situations, to keep her emotions in check.
Maybe she was playing me. But the way she shook, her lowered gaze, and how tightly she clung to me checked all the fear boxes. She was either terrified, or she was the best damn actress I’d ever met.
And I wouldn’t put it past her; she was a Rykov. She was probably even more manipulative than her brother. She had the advantage of playing the game with soft curves, emotional pull, and those damn alluring eyes of hers.
I shoved tonight's events out of my mind and refocused on the paperwork on my desk. As soon as Timur gave me the confirmation that I needed, Artyom wouldn’t see me coming.
As the days passed, I stationed a guard beneath her window and made myself clear: if she vanished again, I’d put a bullet through every guard assigned to her, no questions asked.
When Jaroslav asked if I’d gone ahead and married Vera, I simply told him there was a complication and that I was handling it. He knew better than to press further, so he let it rest.
What surprised me, though, was Artyom’s silence. Since the night of the planned wedding, he hadn’t reached out again. I’d expected him to at least attempt to contact Vera directly, or to try to get a spy past my guards to get to her after his failed assassination attempt. But he did neither. She had to have contacted him somehow, and he would've known where she was.
Something wasn't adding up.
Timur still hadn’t confirmed who ordered the hit, but the gunmen my guards didn't take down that night were found dead. Their bodies were dumped in an abandoned building in Callowhill. After all, dead men told no tales.
