The Final Hour (Volkov Bratva #3)(2)

There were men that cowered in Mishca’s presence, but this one, no, he didn’t fear anything.

He couldn’t know for sure, but Mishca thought the mercenary’s gaze slipped past him to where Lauren was standing at his back, making his arm tighten with awareness.

He might have thought he knew the mercenary’s plan, but he could never be sure.

“It would only be fair, would it not, if I took your love from you,” the mercenary said though there wasn’t any real threat in his tone. Now, just that quickly, he sounded bored. “Except, I only kill those that wrong me.”

“I didn’t,” Mishca said, remembering when he had said something similar all those years ago.

“Guilty by association.”

He felt Lauren stiffen behind him and Mishca nearly cursed. He needed to end this.

“We don’t have time for this,” Mishca said. “Do you not realize what you’ve done? The Albanians are going to want blood for this.”

The mercenary shrugged. “Personal problem.”

“And you think they won’t find out it was you?” Mishca retorted, trying to get him to see reason. “Someone, somewhere has seen your face.”

Laughing, the mercenary pushed his mask up, over the beanie he wore to cover his hair, revealing his face for the first time.

Lauren’s gasp was audible in the decrepit building.

The mercenary looked at Mishca, a burning fury in the identical set of blue eyes they shared, so different from the broken spirit Mishca had seen before.

“I’m not the boy you used to know,” the mercenary said echoing Mishca’s thoughts. “If anyone can identify me, good. I’m counting on it.”

“Klaus—”

It was the first time Mishca had said his name in what felt like ages and it had the desired effect as he lost his maniacal smile.

“Never speak my name.”

“And how will they differentiate between us?” Mishca asked solemnly. No one had ever been able to tell the difference between them until they were side by side, and even then, it was still a guessing game.

“I could always kill you, then continue my mission.”

“You’re not going to kill me,” Mishca repeated.

“Why not?” Klaus asked with genuine confusion on his face like that had always been a part of his plan.

“Because despite your hatred for me, brother, it would be like killing yourself.”

Mishca had thought he’d made his point and finally gotten the upper hand, but he was mistaken.

“Maybe, but you’re not me,” Klaus said calmly.

Mishca hadn’t noticed the blade hidden in his palm.

Lauren Thompson thought she knew everything about Mishca after being with him for a year and a half, but there were far more secrets than she knew.

One, in particular, was standing before her.

When Mishca had stiffened in front of her, Lauren hadn’t known why he’d had that reaction to the man walking towards them, more confused since they were having a heated discussion while the man wore a mask. It was obvious they knew each other, but she didn’t know whether he was a friend or foe.

As he shoved his mask up to rest at the top of her head, Lauren sucked in a startled breath, seeing his face for the first time.

It was Mishca, but an angrier version.

Lauren watched in horror as Mishca’s twin flipped the blade end over end, catching it in one swift movement, holding it to Mishca’s neck. Only five minutes ago, she had learned that the man she loved had a twin brother—a homicidal twin brother if his actions were anything to judge by.

Not only that, but he also hated Mishca with a burning passion that Lauren couldn’t begin to understand.

“P-Please,” Lauren stammered, drawing Klaus’ attention from Mishca to her.

There was a burning fury in those blue eyes of his, but she couldn’t back down no matter how much she feared him. Mishca’s arm came around her, holding her to his back, a clear message that if he thought to make a move against her, Klaus would have to go through him.

Klaus spat something at her in another language, definitely wasn’t Russian because she was used to that, and she could see from the confusion on Luka’s face that he didn’t understand either.

“They know of us,” Mishca said gaining back Klaus’ attention. “I suggest you leave. Now.”

“You think I fear the Albanians?” Laughing, Klaus said, “You doubt my abilities, Russian.”

“Doesn’t matter what I think, but it is pointless to continue to stand here and argue a moot point. We both know the Albanians will want retribution for this and standing here waiting for them is not in our best interest. Save your rage for another day.”

Lauren didn’t think he would leave, despite Mishca’s plea, but he did. Sheathing his blade, he made a gesture that had Luka lurching towards him, only held back by Vlad’s arm like a band across his chest.

In seconds, Klaus was gone, but Lauren didn’t doubt she would see him again.

“I could have taken him,” Luka spoke up, glaring.

“Because he did not take you down with one hit?” Vlad asked dryly, surprising them all with his humor.

Lauren could count on one hand the number of times she heard Vlad make a joke.

“I owed him a debt,” Mishca said by way of explanation, turning to face Lauren, his eyes searching hers.