The Final Hour (Volkov Bratva #3)(5)

“What happened with Jetmir?”

“From what I understand, he didn’t know about what Brahim was planning. At least that was as much as I could get out of him.” At her confused expression, he amended that. “I broke his jaw.”

“Sometimes I forget how volatile you are when someone crosses you.”

“Only when they use you to get to me. But we can talk about this another day. I should get you home.”



“I would feel better if you stayed the night,” Lauren whispered when they were back at her apartment.

They could have gotten a room, especially with the unfortunate situation with the door, but she wanted something familiar after everything she had dealt with.

She knew, before he opened his mouth, that he would. That was just the kind of relationship they had. And after everything they’d been through, he didn’t want to be any further away from her than she from him.

“Can’t say that I’m complaining,” Amber remarked after they came in, Luka already inside, stripping down to the tight-fitting briefs he wore, moving to stretch out on the couch.

Lauren had always thought Luka was attractive—even with his crazy attitude—but she had never realized how fit he was underneath the clothes he wore. He had a tad more muscle than Mishca did, and was covered in a myriad of tattoos There was hardly any skin left that wasn’t coated in ink. One was faded, but took up a lot of space on his hip and stretching up towards his ribs, and placed directly in the center of his chest was an impressive, snarling tiger head.

She knew what it stood for, but she had never really thought about Luka in that sense. He was always so playful, so at ease that she couldn’t really picture him in the role of enforcer, but looks were deceiving, and sometimes she did see a hint of that dangerous nature in him.

His briefs barely covered anything, reaching just below the diagonal lines of his abdomen. There was no hair on his chest, but there was a line of curly blonde hair that went from just below his navel, disappearing beneath the band of his briefs.

Luka was—

Mishca gently, but firmly, turned Lauren’s head until her eyes were on him. She almost smiled at the indignant look on his face.

“You only get one Russian.”

“Go ahead,” Luka said, stretching his arms out wide, blatantly displaying himself, if only because he wanted to annoy Mishca more.

“How is anyone going to take him seriously?” Amber asked, having yet to look away from him.

Luka smiled, slow and wide, his attention shifting from them to Amber, his eyes ghosting over her. “I could show you.”

Mishca rolled his eyes, probably used to Luka’s behavior, but Lauren had a sneaking suspicion that Luka didn’t really mean his advance, thinking that he had a thing for someone else entirely.

“As much as I would love to take you up on that offer, can’t. I’ve sworn off men for the moment, especially ones that could probably kill a man with his bare hands.”

“Actually, I only need one hand. It’s rather simple. I use—”

“Good night, guys,”Amber announced cutting him off. “I’m glad you’re home safe, Lauren.”

She gave Lauren a pointed look, letting her know that they would be talking about it in the morning.



In the darkness of the room, Lauren clung to him, refusing to let go. Here, she didn’t have to be strong anymore. He didn’t expect her to be. After what she had almost suffered—and for what she had—she deserved to let out her fears, but that only made his guilt worsen.

Feeling her body shudder, Mishca rubbed her back slowly, trying to calm her. He had apologized, and he knew she didn’t blame him for what happened, but he had no idea what else he could say that would make this better for her.

“Naomi set you up, or set us up rather.”

He stilled, just for a second, before slipping his hand underneath her shirt, wanting the skin to skin contact. “I know.”

“Sadly, I don’t really blame you. I’ve realized that you have terrible taste in women.”

He tried not to laugh, not knowing whether or not she was serious, but he couldn’t help it. “Yet you make me better.”

“Maybe a little, but I’m glad you got there when you did.”

Kissing the top of her head, he nodded. “Me too. Now, get some sleep. There’s plenty of time to talk tomorrow.”





Vlad could only stall for so long before Mikhail grew impatient. Mishca knew that, but he wasn’t expecting the angry voicemail from his father. Leaving Lauren in bed, he headed to the manor, occasionally glancing over at his phone when it lit up.

Having Lauren taken, and all the ensuing fear he felt, Mishca was done with Mikhail. There were two things he revered above all things. Before, the Bratva had come first in every aspect of his life, but now, it was second to Lauren. She held precedence, and despite how much that bothered Mikhail, it wouldn’t change a damn thing with Mishca.

The were other cars parked along the extensive driveway, one he recognized as Alex’s. He had no time to wonder why she was there as he headed inside, nodding in respect to the others that spoke to him.

Mishca didn’t have to ask where to go. To Mikhail, the only room he practically lived in was his office. He took a moment to see if Alex was nearby, but he caught sight of Vlad looking pensive—and he never looked pensive.