Ruthless Bratva King (New York Russian Mafia Kings #1)

29. Elena

29

ELENA

“ W hat just happened back there?” My voice is too loud, shaky. I don’t care. “And who were those people?”

Dmitri doesn’t look at me. His eyes remain on the road. The only sign of tension is the whiteness of his knuckles. “I handled it.”

“Handled it?” I twist in my seat to face him. “He had a gun, Dmitri. A gun! And Veronica?—”

“She’s fine.” His tone is even, measured, like we’re discussing the weather. “Vladimir has put her up in one of our secure locations, and he’ll protect her like his life depends on it.” He gives me a cold smile. “Because it does.”

Something in the way he says it makes me bristle. “Why is that funny?”

He glances at me, a dark chuckle underlining his words. “Because he knows if she gets hurt, he and his entire family will pay the price.”

I gape at him. “You’re saying you’d kill a family.”

He doesn’t hesitate. “Yes.”

The word is a punch to the gut. Simple. Direct. No attempt to sugarcoat it.

My breath quickens, coming in short, uneven bursts. “His family? All of them?” I think of my family, of the message carved into the wall. Are they alive? Or dead?

The idea hits me hard. Perhaps they haven’t gone missing. Perhaps Dmitri is toying with me and he’s already killed them. Am I next?

I cross my arms tightly over my chest, as if I can physically hold myself together. “You left a dead man in the elevator. Those two in the bar, as well. The police?—”

“Won’t be an issue.”

“How can you know that?”

“Because if you talk to them, your life will change,” he replies, his voice growing harder. “You’ll be under constant surveillance. Your phone calls will be recorded. Your home will be bugged. They’ll dissect every aspect of your life. No one at the hotel saw a thing, trust me. You want to talk to the cops? Be my guest. No body, no witnesses, just a connection between you and me that’s too clear to ignore.”

I stare at him, horrified. “Are you saying you think I’d try and turn you in?”

His knuckles tighten on the wheel. “I know what happens to anyone associated with someone like me. The powers that be don’t care about innocence or guilt, Elena. They care about leverage.”

I feel like the air has been sucked out of the car. “Why were those men after me?”

His lips press into a thin line. He’s silent for a beat before answering, his voice low and rough. “Because I’m a selfish bastard.”

Something in his tone makes my throat tighten. I want to scream at him but all I manage is, “What do you mean?”

His gaze flicks to me, sharp and unyielding. “They’re after you because I didn’t do my job right.”

The calm certainty of his answer ignites something in me. “And what is your job?”

“Not now.” The word is a growl, filled with heat.

We hit a sharp corner, the tires squealing as the car swerves. I grip the door handle, clenching my teeth. “Did you kill my parents?”

“What do you think?” His voice is like steel. “You think I’m a monster? Maybe I am. But I’m also your husband and you will obey me. So when I tell you to stop asking questions, you stop.”

I turn to the window, blinking hard, trying to process everything. Outside, the night blurs by, cold and dark and utterly unforgiving. Did he kill my family? All the evidence says yes but my heart still says no.

“You don’t get to act like you’re the boss of me,” I snap, unable to keep the edge out of my voice. “You killed someone. Right in front of me. How am I supposed to just be okay with that?”

His hands remain steady on the wheel, his voice maddeningly even. “You’re not supposed to be okay with it.”

“Well, mission accomplished.” My laugh is bitter, hollow. “I’m definitely not okay. I don’t even know what to think right now. One minute, I’m trying to figure out why I feel like this around you, and the next, I’m watching you take someone’s life like it’s nothing.”

“You’re not wrong to feel conflicted,” he says, his tone softer now, almost apologetic. “But this is my world, Elena. This is who I am.”

“Now I know the truth about who you are, I guess.”

For the first time, I see a flicker of something in his expression. Regret? Pain? It’s gone so quickly I’m not sure it was ever there.

“That’s why I’ve always avoided relationships,” he says quietly. “Anyone who gets close to me becomes a target. That includes you. But you were a target before we even met. Either you stick with me or you die. That’s your choice to make.”

“Why would I ever choose this?” I demand, gesturing wildly around the car as if his life is something tangible I can point to. “Why would anyone want this?”

His jaw tightens, the muscle ticking as he clenches the steering wheel. “Because I’ll protect you. Because I’ll do whatever it takes to keep you safe, even from myself if that’s what you want.”

I turn away, staring out the window, my reflection ghostly in the dark glass. “You make it sound so simple,” I say.

“It’s not,” he replies. “It’s the furthest thing from simple. But I’m not going to lie to you.”

The car slows as we pull into a parking garage beneath a sleek, modern building. The lights cast harsh shadows, illuminating the grim set of his jaw and the unwavering intensity in his eyes.

“This is your idea of honesty?” I say, my voice trembling with anger and confusion.

He parks the car and turns to me, his gaze piercing. “No, Elena. This is my idea of survival.”