I glance at the door and shake my head. “Not yet.” Depending on how things work out after tonight, I’ll see what happens. If he’s still targeting Blair, then maybe I’ll be able to use that as an excuse to take action against him. But until I have something concrete, my hands are tied.
He rolls his eyes, running a hand through his hair. For the first time in his life, Daniil looks ruffled. His hair’s a mess, and his tie hangs loosely around his wrinkled collar. It’s a total contrast to how he presents himself in every other situation.
As soon as he got out of law school and started making decent money, his collection of suits was his first investment. Probably because when we were kids, he was always the one in worn-out clothes that his parents got at a thrift store. His family immigrated from Russia when we were still in grade school, and outside of Bratva families, he was always an outcast.
We might be far removed from those days, but it feels like he’s still trying to make up for it.
When the door flies open, Daniil’s hand twitches, creeping behind him as if he’s already determined to bring his gun into the equation. I tense, but he stills himself before Semyon looks up, his eyes darting from Daniil to me as he schools his face and his eyes light up with a cruel glee.
His hooded gray eyes, so similar to the ones I inherited from our father, dart between the two of us. It’s like I’m staring into a mirror that makes me itch if I look for too long.
I resist the urge to loosen the knot on my own tie.
“Sorry I’m late.” Semyon smirks, flopping onto the couch across from us with his arms stretched across the back. “I didn’t realize that you’d be joining us, Andrei.”
He tilts his head in my direction, as if he’s trying to see straight through me.
“Figured it was a good time for a family reunion.”
His smirk grows into a full grin, and my skin crawls in a way that only he’s able to invoke. Beside me, Daniil leans forward, stabbing his cigarette into the ashtray.
“As touching as this is, let’s get to why we’re really here, yeah?”
If anything, Semyon just looks more amused. No doubt seeing Daniil worked up is exactly what he wants. I’ll have to make sure that I don’t feed into his bullshit too, or this is going to end up a lot bloodier than it has to be.
As long as Daniil and I walk out of this room, I’ll find a way to make peace with whatever happens here.
“Care to tell me why you’ve been running your mouth and acting like you have any business even mentioning my wife?” His voice is controlled, but there’s an undercurrent of barely contained threat.
Semyon’s glee is practically pouring off him in waves, and I want to throttle him.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. But if someone wants to see her dead, I’m willing to bet people would be liningup for the opportunity. You know, since she’s a security risk and all that.”
I squint at him, and his smirk only grows.
“Cut the shit,” Daniil snaps. “No one’s been talking shit except for you.I don’t care who else has the motivation. You’re the only one who’s stupid enough to think that you can get away with attacking my family. But newsflash, asshole. You can’t.”
Semyon doesn’t flinch. In fact, he doesn’t react at all, and a vein of trepidation works its way down my spine. He’s looking at us the same way he used to when he hid my toys when we were children. Like the only thing in the world he cares about is that he has a secret he can lord over me.
“I don’tthinkanything. I already have a green light to do whatever I want.” Despite myself, I tense, and Daniil sits up straighter. “So, do you really want to spend her final days here with me and this jack-off?” He nods his head in my direction. “Or, wait, let me guess. You’d rather be off fucking your whore, right?” He laughs. “Why are you even pretending to give a shit?”
“Not pretending,suka.I’m not going to let you touch a hair on her head.” Daniil sounds calm, but his knuckles are blanching white where he clenches his hands on his knee.
“Don’t worry, Krutikov.” Semyon smirks, his eyes glued to mine. “I’ll make sure she bleeds when I do it.”
Daniil pulls his gun out faster than either of us can react. His grip is tight as he rests it against the arm of the chair, his finger resting against the trigger guard. Only years of being surrounded by violence and anger allows my shoulder to remain relaxed and my face blank, but I’m a brewing storm of anxiety, itching to pull out my own gun.
He’s pissed. I get it, but he’s playing right into Semyon’s ego. He needs to find a way to chill the fuck out in a hurry.
“See, I don’t think you’re going to do shit, Semyon. Not if you want to walk out of this room anyway.”
Semyon looks between the two of us, then at the door where the echoes of the pounding bass and bustle of drunken customers trickle in. “I don’t know, man,” he says with a click of his tongue. “Isn’t your whole thing to make sure we stay out of prison?” Semyon shrugs without a care in the world. “I’d think that causing a scene in an illegal, crowded club would be counterproductive.”
“That’s the beautiful thing about illegal clubs. There’s no such thing as a witness, only a person who knows how to cover their own ass.”
“You’re right.” Semyon laughs as he reaches around his back, pulling out his own gun. “Thatisbeautiful.” My hand is steady as I pull out my gun, refusing to let Semyon have any sort of advantage.
The sound of Daniil clicking off the safety of his gun echoes through the room; it’s so loud I almost think that the people in the main room must have heard it.
