The single lamp illuminates his sagging frame, his clothes just as rumpled as the rest of the room, the fine fabric of his shirt a reflection of the broken debris and the opulence of the furniture.
I can’t help but smirk as I circle away from him, keeping my distance. He might be so drunk he’s barely standing, but he’s still a wildcard. He has nothing left to lose, and that makes him dangerous.
“You couldn’t get the job done on your own, could you? That’s pathetic, even for you.”
I turn the piece of broken vase over in my hand, running my thumb along the jagged edge.
The room, like the rest of the house, is draped in ubiquitous luxury. Yet he’s reduced it all to nothing but gilded garbage.
“Take a look at how far you’ve fallen, Maksim. You expect me to believe you’re the feared pakhan? You can’t even stand on your own two feet anymore. How long has your drinking problem been out of your control? Or are you just so choked up over the waste of space that you called a son?”
I step to the side as he lunges for me, nearly tripping over his own feet.
Any hope I had of tonight being satisfying is long gone. He’s nothing but a shadow of the man who used to loom over the restof us. He’s never deserved his power, and it’s never been more apparent than it is now.
“What do you know about my son?”
I shrug, thick porcelain cracking under my shoes as I walk away, keeping an eye on him the whole time.
“I know he was drunk when I killed him. I suppose he got that from you.” I let my words sink in, and I can see the moment they click, his chest heaving and face stricken. His eyes flare as I move around the room.
Maybe my confession gave him the jolt he needs to sober up a hair, because he seems to find his feet beneath him in slow, shuffling steps.
“I know Pavel was a threat to my wife. I know that he was harder to kill than you’ll be. I know that his death was far more satisfying.”
The rapidly cooling body lies on the ground between us, his blood soaking into the rug. When Maksim lurches toward me, his fists swim blindly. I grab his shoulders, catching him before he falls face-first into me, unable to keep the grin off my face.
“What did you do?” he seethes, the vein in his forehead pounding rapidly beneath his weathered skin.
“You saw his body at the morgue, right? You know exactly what I did.”
“I will fucking end you, Voronov!”
“I’d like to see you try.”
He moves quicker than I thought he’d be able to, a series of wild blows coming at me faster than I expected. One clips me on the chin, the sting throwing me off balance for just a moment,long enough for his other hand to reach out and grab my face. His nails claw into my cheek, drawing blood.
If he weren’t drunk, he would’ve gone straight for my eye. I almost let out an inappropriate huff of laughter at the thought.Almost.
Instead, I shift my grip, pressing the point of the broken vase against the side of his neck. I apply enough pressure to get his attention, and he stills, even as his nails stay embedded in my cheek, gouging against my flesh.
“You kill me, and they’ll come after you. Yourwife,” he spits the word, as if the very idea is poisonous, “still won’t be safe.”
“No one’s been loyal enough to die for you for a long fucking time.” I press harder, a bead of blood dripping down his neck.
“And you’re planning on taking over?”
“Fuck no. And I don’t give a fuck who does. Until it’s a man who isn’t a threat to my family, I’ll kill them, too.”
I stab into the delicate skin and muscle that protects his carotid artery, immediately calmed by the warm blood that rushes around the rough edges of the porcelain.
He lets out a shocked gasp and I pull back, refusing to react even when his blood splatters against the wall.
It isn’t long before he collapses to his knees, hovering over the other body.
I crouch next to him, grabbing his chin in my bloodied hand, forcing him to look at me as he bleeds out. “I give my loyalty to those who deserve it. And that has never been you,” I snarl, forcing the shard into his neck once again, letting it make a home in his rotting flesh.
Maksim crumples unceremoniously, soaking both him and the corpse in red. Lifting the cold hand of the dead man, I put it on the shard still in Maksim’s neck, using his hand to hold the shard in place until Maksim’s blood stops flowing.
