Page 99 of The Tsar's Obsession
“I only have a switchblade.” He held up the cold steel and looked at me knowingly, referring to the last time he said that sentence. “But this time…I have to do more. Cover your ears and close your eyes, okay, baby?” My knees shook at his words, but I nodded, bringing my hands to my ears and shutting my eyes. I trusted him fully.
42
Aftermath
Kirill
JustasIhadenvisioned, Mia’s arms wrapped around my neck when I stepped out of that wretched building.
She curled up in the front seat of my car, fidgeting with the hem of my shirt, still high on the shock and adrenaline. She giggled softly, as if we didn’t just walk out of a butchering, but even though I knew her mirth was for all the wrong reasons, I still admired it.
No matter how much I wanted to, we didn’t leave Jeremy. Like the pathetic bastard he was, he whimpered as he crawled into the backseat, earning the honor of sitting next to Dmitry’s head.
“Vova?” He picked up on the first ring. “I need cleanup at the office, and I need your personal expertise. My house in an hour.” My call was short, and I was already on the freeway. We were going to make one short stop before heading home.
We pulled into the golf course parking lot, my security speechless at the state of us. All my men were waiting for me; every single one who had a piece of the business remained in the room. It was time to remind them who the fucking Tsar was, after all.
There was no fucking way I would leave Mia in the car—she would come with me. In fact, she would come with meeverywhere I went, and I would follow her to the edge of the earth. Because our lives were intertwined. We were one.
Draped over my shoulder, her warm body pressed against me, her bare, wounded ass covered by my shirt. Dmitry’s head was in my other hand, his hair surprisingly soft between my fingers.
As soon as we walked inside, the air shifted. Security cleared a path, their silence permeated with fear. My footsteps echoed down the hall, each one a loud warning.
The room went silent when my men caught sight of me. Statues—every single one of them watched on as if frozen. With an easy swing of my arm, I smashed Dmitry’s head onto the table.
The thud was filthy. The splash of blood—an unforgettable visual, one that I would refer back to again and again in my mind.
Silence.
I took my time—waited—for it to sink in. Let them recognize the face. Let them take in the details. Let them learn the consequences of disobedience. The consequences of hurting what was mine.
There would be no more whispers from now on because that’s how I would shut them down—with a severed head on the table.
Mia dangled over my shoulder like a perfect little rag doll, her body pliant, her breath tickling the skin on my back. She waited silently, no doubt watching it all upside down.
"I’m a patient man.” I spoke calmly, watching the disgust on their faces. “A little less patient after this year. Take back what you learned at this meeting and make the right choices going forward. Thanks for coming."
And just like that, I turned on my heels and walked out, forgetting that a man named Dmitry ever existed.
At home on our couch, Mia sprawled out on her stomach. “Why so quiet, Jer? Nothing to say?” Mia addressed Jeremy right as Vova took a step inside the apartment. Jeremy’s head snapped toward the man, and he instinctively backed into the plushmaterial of the armchair. Oh yes, I forgot Vova was the one who broke his fingers all those months ago.
“Hello.” Vova’s deep Russian accent filled up the room. He paused mid-step and looked me over with disapproval. And then, he launched into one of his long lectures about my lifestyle choices.
Like Yuri, he was much older. Like an uncle I never had, he sent me Christmas gifts after cleaning up my messes all year. One year, he took out and hid the bodies of so many that I stopped counting. This year was very mild.
Vladimir, Vova for short, was a doctor in a past life, and a great one at that, Soviet-trained. Completely ignoring Jeremy, he approached Mia and spoke so gently, “Hello, my name Vova, nice to meet you.”
She broke out into an amused smile, bringing her eyes to me. I crouched down in front of her while Vova began his care of her wound. “Why do you have cocaine on your chest?” I posed the question, relishing in our closeness. “What did he do?” I filled my lungs with air and breathed deeply while I listened to Mia recount the horror she experienced.
I needed to hear it. Needed to listen to every word. The details scarred me, hurt me, broke me, and that’s exactly what I wanted. I was such a fucking fool. I refused to see the signs; the writing was on the wall, but I looked the other way. Short-sighted, reckless,cocky.
I should have fucking ended him months ago when I got the first inkling that something was off. No matter the damage to my reputation, no matter the blow to my influence and power, I should have acted first. It turned out that I didn’t actually give a fuck about any of that anymore. I only cared about her and us together.
“Okay. Done. Rest. No long shower; too much vater on vound iz no good. And zen, you put ointment and new bandage every mornin’ and evening. Kirill help.” Vova’s Russian accent was sharp against my ears. He grabbed his little gauze and medicalsupplies and turned his attention to Jeremy who was peculiarly silent the entire time.
“What happened to you, Jeremy? Wanted a piece of that sweet criminal pie?” Mia spoke slowly, her face smooshed against the couch pillow. He stayed silent. “Hm? Tell me why you would betray me like that?”
“I didn’t betray you,” he shot out and winced in pain from Vova’s movements, much less careful than his treatment of Mia. “It was supposed to be just a talk, just a conversa– ”
