Page 73 of Twisted Prince
My fear made me push him away.
And now I fear I’ve not only lost the love of my life, but I’ve fallen into a trap with a man far more overbearing and possessive than Gleb ever could have been.
31
GLEB
“Gospodin, this is my brother Sascha. Sascha, my pakhan Pyotr Veles,” I say as the two fresh-faced bodyguards pull Pyotr’s office doors closed behind us.
From what Pyotr told me, the Matron was in charge of selecting the new guards, just like she picked Val and Efrem years ago—so I’ll be vetting them thoroughly now that I’m back from my errand of collecting Sascha.
Not that I don’t trust Pyotr’s mother, but I’m done putting my faith in anyone else’s judgment. I’ll draw my own conclusions about whether they’re good enough to protect my pakhan.
“I’ve heard good things about you,” Pyotr says to Sascha, rising from his chair and extending his hand across his desk with a cool smile. His sharp gray gaze assesses my younger half-brother, no doubt noting how little we look alike.
Where I’m tall, lean, and pale with dark hair, and green eyes, Sascha’s a golden boy in the very literal sense of the word. Strong with a muscular build but not quite burly, he has a short, hectic mane of sandy-blond hair, a distinctly olive skin tone, and brown eyes that are so light they’re closer to amber-gold. All compliments of his strikingly beautiful mother.
Kostya’s nickname for Sascha growing up was L’venok—little lion. And though he’s no longer little, with broad shoulders and standing just a few inches shorter than me, he does bring the king of cats to mind. It might be the hair—or the ever-watchful, assessing gaze.
“Likewise,” Sascha says, accepting Pyotr’s hand and shaking it firmly.
“Please, sit.” Pyotr gestures to the chairs facing his desk.
As Sascha accepts the seat to the right, I settle into the one beside him, intrigued by how the conversation will unfold.
“My brother tells me you have a job I’m going to love,” Sascha says, the corners of his lips curling up into a subtle smile. Because, unlike me and the rest of my machine-like brothers, Sascha somehow managed to develop the semblance of a sense of humor despite our upbringing. It might be dry and have a sharp edge, but he seems impressively adept at finding the irony in life.
Pyotr’s eyebrow quirks, and his eyes shift to me as he interlaces his fingers, placing his elbows on the desk.
I shrug. “I told you he’d be perfect for the job.”
Pyotr locks eyes with Sascha once more, his expression grave. “You understand you would be working behind the lines of our enemy—a very dangerous enemy—passing information about their Bratva to Gleb? I intend to keep him as your only point of contact to minimize your risk of exposure.”
Unlike Sascha, Pyotr learned the hard way since coming back to New York that there is no irony in life. Only ugliness and death waiting to swallow you whole if you give it the slightest of openings.
Thankfully, he hasn’t lost his wife or children in all this mess with the Zhivoder—not that the bastards haven’t tried. But he’s sacrificed far too much. Which is why it’s time to pay Mikhail Sidorov back for all the devastation he’s wreaked on this clan.
Sascha leans forward, his elbows meeting his knees as his smile turns predatory. “That sounds right up my alley,” he admits. “I assure you, I haven’t just been sitting in Boston, sucking my thumb and tossing drunks out of a nightclub for the past few years. Besides, any job that gets me out of that hellhole will suit me just fine.”
Again, Pyotr’s eyes cast to me, a silent signal that he’ll be digging further into that statement once the interview is over and we’re alone. Then, they shift quickly back to Sascha. “We’ll find a way to introduce you into the Zhivoder clan authentically, but it will be up to you to go through initiation, to climb the ranks. I want you to make a big enough splash that you catch Mikhail’s eye.”
Sascha nods, considering the plan. “What’s the timeframe?”
“As long as it takes, and as quickly as you can. It sounds like he’s permanently shifted his VIP client interactions to his Upstate home. Though he still has plenty of business within the City, we can hit him where it hurts if you’re at his estate up north. I know it will take time to get there, and I trust you and Gleb to make it happen without exposing you—or dawdling.”
“And by business and VIP clients, you mean…” Sascha glances toward me, that ironic look telling me he’s already connected the dots and just wants to hear it confirmed. It wouldn’t surprise me if he’s dug into the details himself enough to know the kind of shit he’ll be involved with.
“I’m talking about human trafficking, selling women and children to all the sick fucks willing to pay hundreds of thousands to work out their kinks without sullying their prestigious reputations or high status in society.” Pyotr hisses the last of his sentence, the vitriol blatant in his tone.
I respect how Pyotr wears his anger-like armor. Unlike my training, which tells me to show no emotion that might reveal weakness to the enemy, my pakhan wields his emotion like a weapon. It makes him nearly invincible without being emotionally stunted.
“So, if you take this job, it means you’ll be expected to look the other way. To allow plenty of sick, twisted shit to happen. You might have to do something you find abhorrent to maintain your cover. Because I don’t intend to relieve you of your task until we’ve brought down Mikhail’s entire empire. You think you have the stomach for that?”
Pyotr’s laser gaze remains fixed on Sascha, and my brother studies him closely, that same subtle curl to his lip despite the weight behind my pakhan’s words.
“Perhaps my big brother has failed to fully enlighten you on the extensive training we go through at the Lycaon House, but I assure you, I can stomach just about anything. So, if you’re done grilling me, when does the fun begin?”
Sascha’s grin spreads, eliciting a smile from Pyotr as well. And my pakhan looks over to assess me one more time. I give a subtle nod. I wouldn’t trust a single soul with infiltrating the Shivoder more than I do Sascha. And Pyotr reads that in our silent exchange.
