Page 92 of Blood Oath Christmas
"Wewere." Konstantin moves around the desk, and I see the gun in his hand now, held casually at his side. "That's what makes this so much worse."
He looks at me, and I see the question in his eyes. Last chance to walk away, to preserve whatever innocence I have left.
I shake my head. "I'm with you."
Something like pride flickers across his features. "Then let's go."
The walk to the field feels endless. Maksim stumbles between two of Viktor's men, his earlier bravado completely gone. The family is already assembled when we arrive—a silent circle of men and women who have served and been part of the Mikhailovs for years. Their faces are stone, but I can see the pain in some of their eyes. Maksim was one of them, and his betrayal cuts deep.
Konstantin stops in the center of the circle, and I take my place beside him. My hand finds his free one, and he squeezes my fingers gently. A reminder that beneath the cold exterior, my husband is still there.
"Maksim," Konstantin's voice carries across the field, formal and final. "You have betrayed this family. You have put our lives at risk. You have broken the sacred trust that binds us together."
Maksim falls to his knees, tears streaming down his face. "Please, Konstantin. Please."
"The penalty for betrayal is death." Konstantin raises the gun, and I feel him tremble slightly beside me. Just once, so briefly I might have imagined it.
But I didn't imagine it. This is killing him, and he's doing it anyway because it's his duty. Because protecting this family, protecting me and our unborn child, requires hard choices.
I squeeze his hand tighter, letting him know I understand. That I'm here. That I accept this part of him, this part of us.
And then I let go of his hand and stand straight and firm next to my husband.
The gunshot echoes across the field, final and absolute. Maksim falls back, dead before he hits the ground with a bullet between the eyes.
It's done.
52
KONSTANTIN
Istand in the doorway of Vadim's bedroom, surveying the scene before me. The bastard lies sprawled across his king-sized bed, Agent Cole’s lifeless form beside him. Viktor did excellent work—the staging looks perfect. A lover's quarrel gone wrong, ending in a murder-suicide pact. The corrupt FBI agent's service weapon rests in his hand, powder burns on both their temples telling the story we want told.
Vadim Antonov. The man who killed my parents twenty-two years ago. The man who put a target on my wife's back. Finally dead.
I should feel more satisfaction, but all I feel is a hollow sense of completion. Justice served, but it won't bring back my parents. It won't erase the years of looking over my shoulder or the sleepless nights wondering when he'd make his next move.
"It's done, Konstantin," Viktor says quietly from behind me. "The scene is clean. No traces back to us."
I nod, taking one last look at Vadim's slack face. "Good. Make sure the police find them within the hour. I want this story in tomorrow's papers."
As we leave the Antonov compound, my thoughts shift to Ivy. She was meeting with her mother today, for the first time since she kicked us all out of her house. My jaw clenches thinking about how that woman treats my wife. Ivy deserves better than a mother who can't see past her own bitterness.
The drive home feels longer than usual, my mind churning with everything that's happened. Maksim's betrayal still cuts deep. Twenty years of loyalty, of brotherhood, and he threw it all away for what? Money? Power? The memory of his shocked face when I pulled the trigger makes my chest tight. I trusted him with everything—my business, my secrets, my wife's safety. And he sold us out.
I pull into our driveway, the familiar sight of our home easing some of the tension in my shoulders. This is what matters now. Ivy. Our child growing inside her. The family we're building together.
I find her in the living room, curled up on the couch with a cup of tea. She looks up when I enter, and even after all these months, the sight of her still hits me like a punch to the gut. Those blue eyes, the way her blonde hair catches the afternoon light streaming through the windows. She's wearing one of my shirts over leggings, and I can just make out the slight curve of her belly where our baby grows.
"How did it go?" she asks softly, though we both know she doesn't really want details.
"It's finished." I sit beside her, pulling her against my side. She fits perfectly there, like she was made for me. "Vadim won't be a threat to anyone ever again."
She nods, her fingers tracing patterns on my chest. "I'm glad it's over."
"Tell me about the visit with your mother." I press a kiss to the top of her head, breathing in her familiar scent. "How did she take the news about your father?"
Ivy's body tenses against mine. "About as well as expected. Actually, worse." She pulls back to look at me, and I can see the hurt in her eyes. "Finding out Dad is alive made her angrier, not relieved. She said she's spent fifteen years mourning a lie, and now she finds out he chose to abandon us. Chose the Mafia over his family. Even though she didn’t want to have anything to do with him because he was in the Mafia."
