I’d expected us to celebrate a little more, but as soon as we entered his home, Konstantin and Zoya started yelling at each other.
She straightened, leveling him with her withering gaze. Zoya Makarova was beautiful. I remembered her wavy blonde hair and the straight line of her nose. But back when I met her, she was a scared little mouse, always hiding behind her father’s legs. It had taken twenty minutes of coaxing before she’d even spoken to me. And even then, she’d only wanted to play for a little bit before she’d asked to leave.
This Zoya was different. She was fuming, arms crossed over her chest, while her brother yelled at her.
The other brother, Kolya, spoke in Russian to some of their men in the kitchen. Meanwhile, Wynn bandaged his forehead.When Kolya had found us at the van, he had hissed something to Zoya in Russian before stomping away. He seemed competent, a decent second-in-command to Konstantin, but it was hard to see him as anything other than that drunk who’d made a mess at Ryuji’s club all those weeks ago.
Maybe this war had straightened him out a bit.
“I was literally just living my life, brother,” Zoya finally responded, voice scathing. I watched with a small yet sad smile on my face.
I knew exactly what she was talking about, and it’s what had me so fucking pissed off earlier. In this world, women were always the collateral damage. We were the pressure points. We were the ones people used to further their goals, never once considering how we might feel.
My father had feared that I’d be used as his weak spot, which was why he made Cas my bodyguard. In my teenage years, Cas had to defend me from kidnapping attempts twice. My mother and Max’s mother had been targeted with a car bomb with the sole intent of hurting our fathers.
It was everywhere in my life, but I didn’t truly get it until this night.
When these dangerous men couldn’t easily get what they wanted, they turned their sights on us because they thought we’d be meek, easy targets.
Not today.
I was so fucking tired of it. I would build my own syndicate to prove them all wrong. I would forge a different path for us. In our future, women wouldn’t have to live that way. Women would have all the power we wanted and live whatever lives made us happy. I’d make sure of it.
“And now what?” Konstantin asked. “Your apartment is a crime scene, and I’m still at war.”
Her mouth pressed into a thin line. “I’ll go stay with a friend.”
“No. You’re moving home immediately. I’ll have the men go get some of your things—what can be salvaged, anyway. But you’re not to set foot out of this house.”
She gaped, then crossed her arms over her chest. “Absolutely not! I have a life! Ever since Dad died, you’ve been trying to keep me trapped here, but I’m tired of it, Kostya. No more.”
“I never should have let you move out,” he muttered. “I should have pulled you back to the compound when we started this war.”
Zoya rolled her eyes. “You tried, remember? I just walked out the front door and came back to my apartment. I ditched every single man you sent to pick me up.”
Cas leaned over to whisper, “Sounds really familiar, doesn’t it?”
I snorted and rolled my eyes. “I never could ditch you for long, though, could I?”
The corner of his mouth pulled into a smile.
“You’re twenty. You don’t need your own apartment.” Konstantin braced a hand on his hip. “Once it’s cleared by our contacts on the force, I’m selling it. Ryu, can I use your realtor?”
Ryu shrugged from beside me. “Sure.”
“No, Kostya, please,” she whined, grabbing his hand. “I need my own space. I can’t stand constantly being guarded.”
“It’s not safe. Fuck, even at home, it’s not safe.” He pulled free of her grip and paced around the room. “Coming after my fucking sister. I’ll gut him. We might have killed that Colombian fucker tonight, but I’m positive Volpe gave the order. He’s dead.”
“He’s mine, Konstantin,” I said, crossing my leg over my knee. “You don’t touch a hair on his head.”
Ryu’s hand clamped on my knee. “Now is really not the time, sweetheart.”
Konstantin turned to me and leveled a hard glare.
I knew what I was doing. Challenging the head of the Bratva in his own home was a massive sign of disrespect. But right now, I didn’t fucking care. He could pace around his house all he liked, but Max was mine.
And I wasn’t saying it for him.
