Wicked Mafia Prince (A Dangerous Royals Romance, #2)(5)

I’m just so tired.

“Brat,” he says softly. He comes and sits next to me.

I close my eyes, still holding the jacket.

I flash on her expression—the surprise, the shock, the terror—as I threw her into the dark gorge. Even brave Tanechka was frightened of death. She reached out to me, even as she went over, eyes wild, grasping for my arms, nothing but cold wind whistling below her.

I hear him unscrew the cap from the bottle.

“It’s morning,” I say.

“Not for you, I think.” He drinks and hands it to me. He is a good friend, Yuri is.

I take it and drink. Together we watch Tanechka.

“I didn’t believe enough in our love,” I say. “I didn’t believe enough in her.”

“We thought she betrayed our gang. Our family. So much proof.”

“Proof.”

“Tanechka was playing a risky game. You say you didn’t believe in her enough, but she should have had enough faith in you to tell you the dangerous thing she was doing. She betrayed you by not trusting you with her plan. She should’ve trusted you.”

I shake my head. “I would have tried to stop her.”

“She should have had faith in her own gang, her own family.”

“Do not ever say she brought it on herself,” I growl.

Yuri sniffs.

We had this very argument so often in those dark months after I killed her. Me in my room, drunk. It was only because of Yuri that I didn’t hurl myself into the gorge. We traveled back home to Moscow a few months later. Things only got worse.

“You could not have done otherwise!”

I pull the jacket to my chest. “I should have believed.”

“You loved her very much.”

“I won’t let her down this time,” I say. “Whatever she needs from me, she has. My honor, my body, my blood.”

Yuri says nothing. He simply puts a hand on my shoulder.

“Like a miracle,” I say.

“So many monitors. Is a lot to watch.”

I sigh, feeling so f*cking tired. I’m glad I told him. I’ve felt so f*cked up and overwhelmed at times, trying to keep up with the feeds. Alone with this news.

“You’re looking for clues about where she is, because you want to be able to get to her if something happens.”

He’s right, of course. “Da.”

“You’re taping it, but if you’re watching the taped feed, you miss it live. It must be hard.”

I nod. “Da.”

“Do you want me to take over?”

I regard him warily. “You don’t even think it’s her.”

He puts his hand on my shoulder. “Let me watch for you.”

“You’d do that for me?”

“Immeno. Rest your eyes. I’ll watch.”

I show him how I have it set up. If he sees anything, he’s to note the time on the monitor or go back and do a clip grab. He knows how to do such a thing. He knows how to recognize a clue. I watch him through bleary eyes as he gets up from the couch. “Where are you going?”

He grabs one of Tanechka’s fur blankets and tucks it around me, and then he sits down. I close my eyes. “Don’t take your eyes from the screens,” I warn.

“I won’t,” he says.

I close my eyes and put my cheek to the smooth pelt. I can almost imagine her here, speaking softly. She’s so close. Praying on the other side of a camera somewhere in this city, or at least in this world. The world still contains her. My heart thunders to think of it.





Chapter Two




Aleksio


I text Viktor. I don’t hear back. One hour. Two hours. Three hours. Nothing.

I’m not handling this uncommunicative shit of his very well.

I tell myself there’s nothing wrong, that I shouldn’t freak out about him not texting back. He’s just invested in his mission, that’s all.

I tell myself I’m used to being with him nonstop.

It’s just that I miss him. He’s my f*cking brother, and I’ve only known him a year.

Finding Viktor last year, coming face to face with him in that gloomy garage in Moscow, and feeling that instant bond of love, it was one of the best f*cking experiences of my life.

I held him to me—I didn’t give a f*ck that the toughest Bratva f*ckers were all around, bristling with weapons and distrust of this crazy American bounding into their space.

So yeah, Viktor and I have been together nonstop since.

And I don’t like us being cut off. All those years I thought my brothers had been slaughtered just like my parents were—finding him alive was life-changing.

He needs space, I get that.

But I need to know he’s okay. He seems…too obsessed. Yeah, it’s good he’s into the mission—taking down Valhalla will weaken and distract Bloody Lazarus. But something’s off.

He’s my brother. So I f*cking care about shit like that.

He speaks English amazingly well, but he goes Russian now and then. Brat, he calls me. I love that.

When we talk about Kiro, he uses the word bratik, which seems to mean “little brother.” Or “baby brother.” Because that’s what Kiro is. He was taken when he was only eleven months old. By f*cking Lazarus and his boss.