Fractured Ties by Bethany-Kris Page 0,60

The Albanian captain took his time to fix the suit jacket he wore before pulling a gun from inside, and then smiling coldly at the camera.

Maya was quick to scoot to the edge of her seat; Kolya didn’t miss it.

“A message, Vadim,” the Albanian said on the camera, “from me and my bosses, so you can rest assured this is all an answer to your recent gift of my boss’s man being sent to us in pieces, as well as our property you have yet to return in the form of Maya Kozlov. We answer your actions back in blood—we will continue to answer this way until you give us an appropriate apology, and the rest of what belongs to our family. I am sure you don’t need me to explain how seriously we Albanians take our blood debts.”

The man in the video lifted his gun, racked the weapon, and then tapped it against the struggling man’s temple, saying, “Today, we’ll start with Alexei Kozlov. Tomorrow, it’ll be Sergei Kuznetsov—a captain of yours, I believe. We’ll continue to remove one Volkov man until we are satisfied that your debt has been honored.”

Behind Kolya, Konstantin murmured, “Sergei was removed from his home this morning by force. His wife was left untouched.”

Shit.

“These deaths are not a suitable repayment,” the Albanian’s voice echoed.

And then gunfire.

Kolya glanced back at the screen in just enough time to see the struggling man in the chair go still before he slumped off to the side, and the camera cut out. The video was silent for less than two seconds before Vadim exploded behind the desk.

“I want them gone! I want this mess fucking finished! Make it happen.”

Something crashed behind Kolya, but he didn’t bother to turn around and check. He was a little distracted by the fear reflecting on Maya’s face as she stared at him. He did catch sight of his father leaving the office in a rage.

Konstantin’s heavy sigh resounded around him. “Well, that escalated quickly, no?”

11.

MAYA COULD faintly hear Kolya and Konstantin discussing what had just happened, but their voices were only background noise in her head. She was still staring at the blue screen of the television, and trying to make sense of what she had just witnessed. Oh, sure, the video had long since cut off, Vadim had had his temper tantrum, and run out … but she swore even as she stared at the television above her head, she could see the video playing out again and again.

A hooded man dying.

An unknown Albanian speaking.

Again and again.

She should be terrified—and oh, she was—but something far more pressing kept poking at the back of Maya’s mind like a hot needle that just wouldn’t stop. Even as the Albanian’s threats whispered in her ears, and that fear slithered around her spine like a cold snake, something else was keeping her from feeling it entirely.

Something else was keeping her quiet.

“Maya.”

It was Kolya’s voice that dragged her back to reality for the moment—all rough, heavy, and dark in that way of his. God, she had come to adore his voice. One could not tell his mood by his tone, unlike most people, but she could.

Right then, she heard anger.

And fear.

Glancing over her shoulder, she found Kolya standing next to his brother. Apparently, the two had moved to stand in the middle of the room together at some point. Probably while she had been stuck staring at the television screen like a foolish girl.

Konstantin quirked an eyebrow high in silent question, but Maya didn’t have the first clue about what he might be trying to ask her. Kolya, on the other hand, folded his large arms over his chest.

“I said let’s go, dushka,” Kolya murmured.

Maya glanced back at the screen. “Would you play it again?”

Konstantin cleared his throat. “Why?”

“No,” Kolya interjected. “There’s no need—let’s go.”

Maya shook her head, saying firmer, “Please, play it again.”

“Maya, it’s unnecessary. You saw what happened.”

“It’s not that … It’s …” Maya stood from the chair, and Sumerki was quick to stumble out from beneath her seat at the same time. Closing her eyes, she faced the screen, and pointed at the spot just below her collarbone. “Right here—he has a jagged scar right here. Except he didn’t there, right? Did you see one, because I didn’t.”

“What is she talking—”

“Who?” Kolya asked, interrupting his brother.

Oh, now he was listening.

Maya spun around, and her eyes flew wide, even as she kept her fingers pointing at the spot where she knew that scar should have