I think briefly about shooting them both just to end this, but it’s a knee-jerk reaction.
So I look to the girl. “Your choice. Which one dies?”
She glances at them, and the love in her eyes is clear.
For both the men.
She then looks at me. “Take me. I’ll work for you, or you can kill me, but you can’t make me choose between my love and my father.”
My mouth twitches.
“Hear that? You kill him or force us to kill you or one of yours, and she’ll be devastated. You want that for your daughter?” I turn to the bar owner. “And you couldn’t be a man and talk to him?”
“Sort it out,” Melor says. “Or we’ll come back and sort it out until there’s no one left. The girl will come with us.”
The father sighs. “Take the fuckin’ money, but touch my daughter and?—”
“What?” I turn, walk up to him.
He’s a little fat, but he’s got a lot of muscle too. He doesn’t make me flinch an inch.
“You think you can threaten me? I don’t need the might of the Belov name behind me. I don’t need the loyalty and power of the Yegorov Bratva either. But I have it. And all the allies they have. You start a fight, and you’ll be dust by morning. I believe this bar owner will be asking for your daughter’s hand in marriage, and if you agree, think of the networks that’ll open to you.
“The Demon’s Wrath won’t just be an important cog. They just might become a powerhouse of their own.”
I turn and walk away.
The girl, Gina, comes with us, and she starts to get into the car, but I stop her.
“If you want a job, let Melor know by the end of your drive.”
“Thank you… You don’t think they’ll?—”
“Hurt or kill each other? Not a chance. They won’t risk hurting you or worse, unleashing your wrath.” I nod at Melor, who gestures for her to get into the car.
I drive myself back to the mansion.
When I step inside, I stop as I almost run into Alina, and my heart stutters in my chest.
She’s got a glass of water and one hand on the rail of the stairs.
“Did you just get in?” I ask.
“I didn’t think I had to report in. I’m?—”
“Hey, no,malyshka. Just a question.”
She breathes out. “I stayed late at the shelter with Albert.”
For a moment, jealousy bites, but I force a laugh. “Should I be worried?”
Everything about her melts. “Absolutely. Albert is the sweetest dog.”
A burst of sweetness fills me, and those emotional jaws loosen. “I’m happy he has a friend.”
“Me too. I— I hope he finds his forever home.” Then she turns awkward, like the memory of our kiss has pounced on her and she strokes a spot on the railing. “I’m tired.”
There are so many things to say, things I promised myself I’d say. But timing is important, and I need to find out the night went as well as I thought it did.
