backtalk unless you want me to let my brothers deal with you the way they want, Lucia.”
“What is this about rescuing her?” The Bratva boss who’d silently watched the whole debacle folded his arms across his wide chest. “An enemy to the family?”
“Kirill made me an enemy when he slaughtered Bastiano!”
Arkady snarled fiercely. He pinched my cheeks between his fingers before sliding his hand to the front of my neck. He didn’t say a word, but his look reminded me of the intense, almost arousing power of his touch in that precise spot.
Breath left my lips in a gasp then he released me.
He kept his hand on my shoulder and turned to the others. “I found her last night on my way home. She was being attacked by a bunch of thugs.”
Apparently, he considered himself a higher class of criminal.
When I rolled my eyes, the curvy brunette glanced at me.
She had to be Sasha Zolotov. And the third brother was Maksim.
I’d heard of all of them except for the spunky redhead.
I started to say something as Arkady continued a short recounting of how he so selflessly saved me, but one look from him with those hard-blue eyes stopped me.
“Didn’t know who she was until afterward.” His jaw tensed. “She told me she was on the way to The Sickle to kill Kirill.”
All I could do was sit there and silently seethe, and then Kirill—that evil, evil man—kicked back his head and laughed uproariously.
Argh!
I wished I’d been able to plunge that butcher knife right into his soulless heart.
The dog took up lowkey growling at me again.
Shadows of soldiers patrolling outside the house cast silhouettes through the windows.
The old woman made a guttural tisking noise then mumbled something Russian at the dog before flicking a dishtowel at it.
After Kirill settled down from his amusement and the dog quieted at his low-voiced command, the rotund lady approached us.
She patted Arkady on one cheek like he was a favored child then she set food and drink in front of me.
“Yest,” she said not unkindly.
A sneer pulled up my lips.
The pakhan’s heavy intonation rumbled across the kitchen. “She says eat. She is my mother. Do as she says, girl.”
I took the first bite reluctantly under the watchful eyes of everybody, my own suspicions swirling inside. There were no allies here, only enemies.
Then, like a spark, the first savory taste of meat hit my tongue and woke my appetite. I realized I hadn’t eaten since sometime yesterday before this nightmare began.
While I drank the sweetened tea and ate as much as my belly could hold, the others partook too, but their gazes—at least those of the Krasnov brothers—continuously strayed to me.
Danger surrounded me on all sides.
Then the redheaded woman sat down across from me. “I’m truly sorry about all this.”
I scoffed, all but ignoring her.
“But you deserve to know the truth,” she continued.
“Who are you to tell me a single thing about my brother?”
“I’m the reason Kirill killed Bastiano.”
Glaring at the petite woman, I clenched the utensils tightly. “Then you should pay too.”
Kirill stalked closer—dark eyes as black as death—and Arkady said simply, “Lucia.”
I pushed away the plate and strained as far back in my chair as I could.
I didn’t want to be here.
I didn’t need to listen to this.
Nothing this Joanna said could possibly dent my appetite for retaliation.
Clearly she’d been brainwashed, and I didn’t take kindly to her thinking there was any reason good enough to murder Bas.
She persisted anyway. “This isn’t gonna be easy to hear though.”
I snorted.
A hard glint appeared in her hazel eyes. “He was gonna rape me. He tried, not just once but twice.”
“Bullshit!”
“He paid my da. Your brother paid my own father to deliver me to a hotel room so Bastiano could have his way with me, Lucia. And the only reason I got away that first time was because of my lucky switchblade.”
“You’re lying. Bas would never—”
“Did you happen to notice the cut on his bicep back in June?” She laid her folded switchblade on the table between us.
I shook my head, feeling every drop of color drain from my face. “That’s a lie! It has to be.”
“You saw what I did to him then.”
“Why would you say any of this?” I reeled, memories of that time during the summer before he’d been murdered coming back to me.
I had seen that wound.
Concerned, I’d asked Bas about the slash on his arm. At the time, he’d laughed it off, but I remembered his jaw hardening, his fingers balling into