Til Death Do Us Part (Kornilov Bratva Duet #2) - Nicole Fox Page 0,80

I had to know for sure.”

Petr holds up a hand. “I know. I was a fucking idiot. Lying to you about anything made all of my moves look suspect. I know that, and I’m not mad.” He rubs a hand over his sore cheek. “Well, I’m a little mad. My face hurts like hell.”

“It looks like hell, too.”

His mouth pulls into a half smile, and for the first time in hours, I allow myself to breathe.

Since I opened my eyes this morning, everything has gone to shit. It has been nothing but bad news. Finally, something has gone right. I have my consiglieri back.

Petr shifts into business mode quickly. His smile slips, and he folds his hands behind his back, shoulders back and broad. “I’ve heard the guards talking about Molly. What’s going on?”

I fill him in as quickly as I can, trying to keep my composure. Rehashing the details of Hannah’s betrayal and my distraction makes me feel like a bigger idiot each time. I should have noticed something. If I’d been paying closer attention, this never would have happened.

“I should have been there to help you,” Petr says, running a hand down his neck. “You wouldn’t have been under so much pressure if I’d been there to pick up some of the slack. I’m sorry, Vik. I really am.”

I wave his apology away. “We can hash it out another time. Right now, I need to know that we can move forward and work together.”

Petr steps forward and holds out a hand. I grasp his, and he pulls me in for a quick hug, patting me once on the back. “We’re good. Brothers for life, okay?”

I swallow down an uncharacteristic swell of emotion and nod in agreement. “Brothers for life.”

“Then let’s get to work.” Petr lets go of my hand and bends down to grab the book he dropped on the floor when I knocked. He tucks it into his front pocket and strolls out of the room, tipping his head to the guard as he saunters past.

Petr is even more of a miracle worker than I thought. While my connection with the men in the Bratva has been growing more and more tenuous, his has been strengthening. None of them will take my calls, but they answer Petr’s calls on the first ring. They don’t want to hear talk of coming back to help the Bratva when it is my idea, but as soon as Petr suggests it, they are open to discussing it.

After a painful afternoon of making phone calls and arrangements when I’d rather be making funeral plans for my baby brother, things are finally in motion.

Seamus’ promise of Irish assistance holds steady, and his men are at my disposal and willing to take commands from me. Half of the Bratva men who bailed at the news of my betrayal this morning have returned as well. I assure them there are no hard feelings. Mostly because I can’t afford to be picky right now. I need every bit of help I can scrounge up if we are going to save Molly.

Though, things aren’t quite as desperate as I thought this morning. While a good number of men did bail on me and the Bratva, more than I realized stayed behind. Their loyalty to me and the Bratva remains, and they trust me to end Fedor, regardless of the Bratva rules I broke.

Still, even with the Irish and remaining Russian men looking together, no one is able to find any trace of Molly or the location of Fedor’s current hideout.

“We’ll find her,” Petr says, squeezing my shoulder. “I’m sure of it.”

I want to believe him, but more and more, I’m starting to allow myself to consider what will happen if we don’t find her. What will life look like if Molly is gone?

I’ll take care of Theo no matter what. He is my son, regardless of genetics. But is that what is best for him? I want to be the one who comforts him when he cries and tells him stories about his mom, but maybe Molly was right all along. Maybe he deserves a better man than me.

Niamh and Seamus never had children, but they would be a good, loving home for him. Maybe they would take him.

The thought of him calling someone else ‘dad’ makes me feel sick, but I’ll do whatever is best for Theo. Always. I owe Molly at least that much.

My phone rings, interrupting my thoughts, and I lunge across the table