Reap

I stiffened at the mention of Alik Durov, but my father’s expression softened. I was looking at my real father. Not the Bratva boss, but Ivan Tolstoi, my father.

“I watched that boy slowly go insane, Luka. I watched it happen before my very eyes. With each kill, he thirsted for blood, the bloodlust slowly took control. And as for all the fucked-up things he did in private? I had no idea. But that boy lived for the kill. Sought out our enemies and tortured them. Killed them in the most sadistic ways imaginable.” He sighed. I thought he looked tired. “We may kill in this life, Luka, but we’re not beasts. We adhere to a code, even when it comes to the death of our rivals.”

“Papa—” I went to speak, but my father held up his hand.

“When I saw you kill Durov, you no longer resembled my serious and respectful son I’d known as a child.” His eyes met mine. “You looked like Durov. That same need for the kill was in your eyes.” He sat back and dragged his hand down his tired aging face. “It still is, Luka. That look. That look is still there. Every single day.” Silence hung in the air, and he added, “You’re going to be the pakhan, Luka. Of that, we are certain. But I refuse to watch my son become like Durov. I’ve just got you back. I won’t lose you again. Especially to the demons you hold inside. I won’t lose you to yourself.”

My chest tightened at the flash of vulnerability in my father’s eyes. I stood and walked toward him. I kneeled at his feet. “Papa, I’m back. And I’m not Alik Durov. I’m your heir, and I won’t let you down. You have my word on that.”

Water built in my father’s eyes. He lifted his hand and tapped it on my cheek. “You’re my life, Luka. My legacy,” he said through a tight throat. “I lived with a void in my heart when you were gone. I thought that thinking you were dead all those years was the hardest part of losing you.” He shrugged. “Turns out it wasn’t. Because living with the knowledge that I could lose you all over again? All because you crave to be in the fight? I fear, this time, would kill me.”

“Papa, I’m not going anywhere,” I assured. “And I won’t ever let you down. I swear it to you. I swear it on our family name. I’ll”—I fought back a lump in my throat—“I’ll make you proud, Papa. Just give me a chance.”

My father reached forward and took me in his arms. Pressing a kiss to my head, he rasped, “You already do make me proud, Luka. You already do.”

He held me for several seconds before he pulled back. Getting to his feet, he fixed his tie and walked to the door. Before he stopped, he asked, “How is Talia? She’s seemed distracted the few times we’ve talked.”

My head lifted, and I caught the concern on his face. “She’s good,” I replied, leaving any mention of Zaal from the conversation.

He nodded. “Good. She needed this rest.”

With that he walked out the door, and out of my house. I sat on the floor, replaying the conversation, until a throat cleared behind me. I looked back and Mikhail, my personal byki, was behind me.

“You ready?” I asked. “Do we have a location for the cunt?”

Mikhail nodded. “He’s hiding out near the docks.”

I got off the floor, and walked past Mikhail. We got in the town car, the van filled with byki up ahead.

Twenty minutes later, we rolled up to the docks and the warehouse Jakhua was meant to be hiding in. I glanced around the dark and run-down area; the place was desolate.

Mikhail looked at me in the rearview mirror. I lifted my hand and Mikhail gave the order to send in the byki. They filed out of the van and into the warehouse.

I waited for the gunfire.

I waited for the screams, but there was only silence.

Something came through on Mikhail’s earpiece. His pale blue eyes met mine in the mirror. My blood ran cold.

“What?” I asked.

“There’s something inside.”

In seconds I was out of the car and striding across to the warehouse. I burst through the door, only to be met with a huge empty space.

My eyes drifted up to the rafters. Two bodies hung by their necks, their stomachs gutted and their throats slit. I walked closer, my feet walking straight through the pooling blood.

I looked at the men, trying to place them.

“Fuck!” Mikhail hissed from behind me.

I whipped my head around. “What?” I asked, my pulse beginning to slam in my neck.

Mikhail paled.

“What?” I thundered. Mikhail held his head high.

“These were two of my men.”