The Final Hour (Volkov Bratva #3)(67)

First, she paid a visit to one of her friends out in Brighton Beach, the same one she had been visiting when she’d needed a ride. Truthfully, she had been glad Mishca had sent Lauren and Luka instead of coming himself. He practically knew every corner of Brighton Beach and could have guessed where she had been, but it was easy enough to distract them before they could question her about what she was doing there.

The drug she had bought hadn’t come cheap, Clint nearly charging her a pound of flesh to get it for her. For a dealer, he was a scary bastard, more afraid of jail time than actually moving his product.

She knew how to use it effectively though, and for that, she was thankful she had her own connections within the Bratva.

Everything was set before Anya stepped into the apartment that evening. It wasn’t that Alex had been planning for the events that would take place, but she knew she needed to be prepared nonetheless.

Anya entered the apartment with a large, silver briefcase, dressed as she used to before Mikhail had sent her away. This was the woman Alex remembered, and for a split moment, when she didn’t see the cold fury in Anya’s eyes, Alex could imagine that this was just another day of them spending time together before one of them had to go off.

“Please, have a seat,” Alex offered, taking her own as she folded her hands in her lap, never once looking away from her mother. “Can I get you something to drink?”

Narrowing her eyes, Anya looked around at the apartment, jealousy in her eyes. “You are his daughter, yet only I suffer for it.”

Her heart was thumping loudly in her chest, but Alex was the picture of calm as she crossed her legs, tapping her fingers against her knee. “Did you bring the money?”

“And what makes you think I just won’t kill you?”

“Because you know as well as I do that if I die, Mishca will know it was you, and he won’t stop until you’re dead.”

“Possibly, but there’s no guarantee that there will be any body left for him to discover.”

Alex watched silently as Anya reached for the sealed water bottle on the table, inspecting to see if it had been tampered with before she unscrewed the cap, drinking deeply.

There was a stab of guilt in her chest as Alex watched her, and she once again wished that she had come from a normal family without all the betrayals, the deaths, the fights, but she knew wishing wouldn’t change a thing, and it was far too late now to turn back.

She had about seven minutes before the drug kicked in and did its damage, and before that could happen, she wanted to say her piece.

“I’ve always had your back, in everything. Why would you do this to me? If you wanted your revenge, why did you have to bring me in it? I’ve done nothing wrong.”

“You’ve taken everything from me!” Anya accused, venom dripping from her voice.

“I did nothing wrong,” Alex shouted back.

“You were born!”

This much anger and hostility coming from her, Alex realized that despite what she thought was a brilliant, flawless plan, she might not have been the only one trying to get one over.

“You never intended to pay me, did you?” Alex asked softly, a hint of vulnerability in her voice as Anya placed the bottle back on the table, her eyes going to the briefcase that was still resting at her feet.

With a rather joyful expression, Anya picked it up, opening it to show Alex the empty interior.

Shaking her head, Alex said, “You set me up.”

“And I would do it again in a heartbeat.”

Anya’s brow furrowed for a moment as she blinked rapidly, clearing her throat repeatedly, but she couldn’t know that she was slowly dying from a drug that was both odorless and tasteless that wouldn’t show up on a normal tox screen. Even if they ran one, Alex had been told, it would be out of her system within twenty-four hours.

“It doesn’t matter anymore,” Alex whispered. “It’s already done.”

Alex wasn’t smiling. She wasn’t gloating at what she had been able to accomplish. She felt absolutely nothing.

“What does that mean?” Anya turned her head to look back at the water she had drunk, turning accusing eyes on Alex. “What have you given me?”

“I’m sorry, but you didn’t leave me a choice.”

Seven and a half minutes. That was all it took before Anya’s eyes fluttered, her body going lax as she stumbled back into the couch, her eyes slowly losing their focus.

“Your loyalty,” Anya gasped out on failing breaths. “Your l-loyalty was to me.”

Alex could hardly speak as she heard Anya’s last words, her throat so tight from the unshed tears that she could do no more but watch as Anya took her last breath. Even in her last moments, Anya couldn’t take any of the blame.

Anya was right about one thing, loyalty meant everything in their world, but she had lost sight of who was loyal to who. Alex was loyal to those who were loyal to her. Mishca would not have been as merciful, nor would any other member of the Volkov Bratva.

That was why Alex knew she had to be the one to do the job.

It was the last gift she could give her mother.

It was the only mercy she would ever get.

Once it was done, she knew that she would have to call them, knowing Mishca had people to clean this up, or fix it to look however they wanted. She hesitated as she typed in Mishca’s number, wondering whether he was still with Lauren and the long lost bother she knew f*ck-all about. More importantly, she wondered if Luka would come.