Page 121 of Wicked Vows (Suvorov Bratva 2)

Once the body is removed, I turn about, examining the basement.

I don’t feel better.

Not even by an inch.

Sharp’s death won’t bring back Viktoria or Kolya. It won’t absolve their murder. It doesn’t change the situation the Bratva is currently in.

It does nothing but take more life.

Liya is right. I made a rash decision.

I stare at the gun in my hand.But can she blame me?

The metal trembles under my touch, eager for more blood. The animal part of me screams to go on a murder spree, but it’s easier to project that desire to the object between my fingers. I glance up at the two brigadiers by the stairs and then point the gun at the ground.

“Dismissed.”

The two disappear without question. Gennadiy lingers with a respectful air about him.

“I need to be alone,” I tell him. “I’ll be in my office. Make sure Liya is fed and clothed.”

“Yes, Pavel Sergeyevich.”

Nothing feels right in the basement once everyone is gone. Blood cakes the ground where Sharp once sat. Dark fluid mixes with the blood where his limbs sprawled over the cement. The pungent smell grows thicker.

I clench my jaws as I head for the stairs, turning the safety into place before tucking the gun into my holster. I ascend the stairs, make a left, wander through the kitchen, and lock myself in the office at the back of the house. It’s the only place left that isn’t occupied.

Or stained with blood.

After I wash my hands, I pour myself a drink. Vodka overpowers my senses.

And then, it doesn’t smell like death anymore. It just smells like a trap.

I’m cornered, I repeat.And I have nowhere to go.

We’re just a row of sitting ducks, waiting for the NYPD to knock us down.

The NYPD will fight to the bitter end.

I sip my drink. Nothing can stop those men from getting what they’re owed. No one can convince them otherwise.

Did it stop me with Liya? Absolutely not.

The logic stands. I’ve dug a grave.

No, it’s more than that. I’ve dug a mass grave. Its gaping maw waits to swallow us all whole.

Another sip sends my head back against the chair. I gaze at the ceiling, wondering what Liya is doing right now. Did Gennadiy feed her? Did he pick up a bacon cheeseburger with extra crispy fries and a vanilla shake?

I close my eyes while bringing the glass to my lips. It’s empty. Groaning, I uncap the bottle and pour myself a hefty serving.

She likes dipping her fries in the shake, I think.

Drink after drink weighs my shoulders. Before I know it, half the bottle is gone. My eyelids are heavy. My head is thick with too many memories and thoughts.

I head for the door, shuffling into the foyer and up the spiral staircase. It makes me dizzy before I reach the top. I curse whoever thought it was a good idea to have a spiral staircase. Was that me? Or was that my father?

I don’t even remember at this point.

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