(CRISTIAN)
Blood drains from Nadiya Sidorov's already pale skin when she hears my venomous words of objection.
As her full lips part in shock, I instantly get lewd thoughts, and I find myself smiling like the psycho I am.
I know how strange I must look to all the shocked people observing me, but I don't care.
Stealing Nadiya is just the beginning of what I plan to do.
My brother's betrothed is just a pretty emblem of his imminent defeat and the first of many trophies I will be taking.
There, there, Princess. This monster won't be eating you just yet. But I do plan to very soon.
Nadiya is truly beautiful and tempting, even to a man like me who's had his fair share of women.
Her eyes are a bright crystal blue, like the Icelandic glaciers I love sailing around, and that hair of hers is cotton white like the old Norse paintings of Valkyries.
There's a fire burning within those eyes that's fitting to the description, and I'd bet underneath that dainty princess exterior, she wishes she could claw my eyes out.
Or maybe she has other things in mind for me. I didn't miss the arousal that sparked in her gaze when she first looked at me. If she's the kind of girl who acts innocent on the outside but is secretly thinking of other things, I'm game.
The dress hugging her decadent body highlights all the parts of her that make a man not think straight.
"Clearly, this is some fucked-up misunderstanding." Andrei walks up to me with his hands balled into solid fists.
I was already prepared for him to challenge me.
And I'm sure he didn't like the way I looked at his woman either. But even I have to accept that his reaction is completely understandable.
Hearing you're about to lose everything to the half-brother you never knew about can't be easy. That's, however, as far as my consideration goes.
I'm four months older than him. That was my ticket to today. This motherfucker had everything I never did growing up.
He's about to find out how it feels to have those privileges taken away from him.
"I assure you, little brother, this is no misunderstanding." My voice is infused with mockery that makes his nostrils flare.
"Little brother?" With his fists raised, Andrei steps into my personal space. A big mistake. If I didn't have a grand plan, he'd be dead. "Who the fuck do you think you're talking to?"
"Want to fight me?" I'm not here to fight, but God knows I'll gladly do it. "I assure you, you won't win."
Andrei charges me, but Pavel and Sava grab his arms, holding him back.
At that moment, I see how similar we all look. We all have the same height, build, high cheekbones, and distinct facial features that make us look like brothers. We're also similar in age, with Pavel being twenty-seven and Sava, twenty-six.
The only differences are our eyes and hair colour. Andrei, Pavel, and I have the same dark hair, but Sava's is blond like his mother's. And I have my mother's eyes.
Despite the differences, one look at us tells you we're related.
"Fucking let me go," Andrei snarls.
"Calm your damn self," Pavel chides, tightening his grip on Andrei's arm.
"This asshole is no brother of mine." Andrei glares at me.
"I don't like it either, but it is what it is," I smirk.
"We're going to need more of an explanation to stop this wedding," Aleksander interrupts us.
On his word, Uncle Motka—the real underdog of this siege—steps forward, fulfilling his final part in our plan.
More shock registers on my brothers' faces when he walks up to Aleksander and whispers into his ear, telling him truths the others will eventually hear. For the moment, they know that Motka knew something they didn't.
If not for him, I'd be dead.
He's my father's younger brother and the only ally Mom and I had. It was him who rescued me.
When we were being hunted, Mom called him for help.
Motka was too late to save her, but he didn't stop looking until he found me. It was nothing short of a miracle that he got to me before the monster burned me alive. I didn't, however, escape unharmed.
Everyone watches his exchange with Aleksander with curiosity, taking note of Aleksander's reactions. The widening of his eyes, the displeasure intensifying on his haggard face, and finally a nod.
He looks at everyone else, including the guests in the congregation. "This wedding will be postponed until further notice," he announces, causing audible gasps to ripple across the room.
Aleksander then flicks his gaze back to me. "I expect a report once this matter is resolved."
The order is another stab in Andrei's heart because he knows it will be me who gets the Sovientrik, second-in-command position in the Komarovski. Not him.
Just. Like. Everything. Else.
"Yes, Pakhan." I bow my head with reverence, and Aleksander's eyes drift down to the tattoo on my wrist, where his gaze lingers.
All the men in the Knights who pass The Reaping at the age of sixteen receive the Viking Futhark rune for defence tattooed on the underside of their wrist. They then receive the Greek Sigma symbol once they're initiated into the Brotherhood.
I have neither because not only should no one know of my existence and lineage, but I was supposed to die that night seventeen years ago.
The tattoo I have on my wrist is of Odin's rune, which means the training I received and the rites I have undertaken surpass all others, even Aleksander's.
My mark tells him he just barely has power over me because if I wanted to, I could challenge his position and take everything from him, too.
Since I haven't, I'm sure he knows it's better to be on my right hand than my left.
Aleksander gives me a curt nod, then disappears through the exit behind him.
With his departure, the tension increases.
Good. It's showtime, and all the key players are here.
There's the princess, who is still glaring at me, Andrei, who looks like he's about to summon the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse, Pavel and Sava, who wear the same questioning expressions, Mira—the wife—who has gone ghostly white, and last but never least, Grigorii.
Grigorii Sidorov, Nadiya's father. The monster.
The fucking monster who killed my mother.
He thought he killed me, too, when he set the barn on fire that night so long ago in Russia.
He's staring at me. Afraid of me now, because he knows what I could do to him with just one word.
Since death is too good for people like him, I planned a special punishment.
A special game, like the ones he used to play with me, that made me fear for my life.
The game began today as he walked his daughter down the aisle, knowing from our little encounter days ago what was going to happen to her next.
"You, Motka. You knew about this. Didn't you?" Andrei spits, glaring at Motka. "You planned this."
"I did." Motka sets his shoulders back. Unfazed by Andrei's rage, he stares at him as if he's ready to charge like a wild bull. He might be sixty, with a head and beard full of grey hair, but he can still snap anyone in half, no matter their age.
"How the fuck could you do this to me?"
Motka gives him a hard stare. "I suggest you stand down and remember I still hold the authority here until it passes."
That tones Andrei right down because he knows what's at stake for his defiance.
Under the Rites of Inheritance, Motka will never inherit the empire or the position of Sovientrik to the Pakhan. But he acts as an executor would, holding all the authority and decision-making power while the inheritance is being transferred.
"I'm aware of that, Uncle."
"Good, then we should relocate to the meeting room and talk, away from the guests." Motka gestures to the door on our left.
"I agree, unless you want the audience." I spread my arms wide, showing I don't care one way or the other. "I'll happily talk out here."
I don't mind spilling all the dirty family secrets and explaining how I became the black sheep of the family.
"Let's go to the meeting room," Mira agrees.
"Perfect." I cut her a glance and give her a crude smile.
Of course, my father's wife wants to talk in private. I've already embarrassed her in front of her nearest and dearest. Everyone here today would have been important members of the Knights and the Komarovski.
They'll have questions, but most of all, I've tainted the prim and proper image Mira Petukhov seems to be upholding.
I know she's probably as nice as she appears to be. But sometimes the good must unavoidably suffer with the bad.
As if on cue, my two personal guards, Jayce and Ivan, come in from my right.
"Ivan, please see the guests out." I point to the door I used to enter. "And, Jayce, take the girl to my house."
"What?" Nadiya suddenly finds her voice. "I'm not going anywhere."
"Sorry, Princess, but you are." I give her a daring smile, willing her to defy me.
She looks away, turning to Andrei. When he gives her a defeated shake of his head, she rushes over to her father. "Dad, don't let him take me."
Grigorii slips an arm around her. "It will be okay." His voice is soothing and so unlike the man he was years ago.
"How can it be okay?"
"Nadiya, please. Just go with them. I will sort this out as fast as I can."
Sort out? Oh no, no, no. The prick shouldn't make promises he can't keep or give her hope when there is none. He already knows there's nothing to sort out. All cards have been laid on the table, and decisions have been made.
Nadiya is mine, no matter what anyone says or tries to do to set her free.
"Okay?" Grigorii cups her cheeks and leans in closer, making a lock of his shaggy grey hair fall over his eye.
Nadiya glances at me, then looks back at her father, nodding reluctantly. "Okay."
"I will walk you to the car."
Jayce makes his way to them, and this time, when Nadiya looks over her shoulder, she stares at Andrei. The man who almost became her husband.
Is that love in her eyes?
Most likely. If it is, love just makes this vendetta that much sweeter. Perfectly in keeping with the saying that revenge is a dish best served cold.
Ivan ushers the guests out as I watch Nadiya go, wishing I could take her home myself. Seeing my new toy later will, however, have to do. My job here isn't finished yet.
When I turn back to face my father's family, I don't miss the hatred in Andrei's eyes.
"This way, everyone." Motka gestures to the door again and leads the way out.
Mira, Andrei, Pavel, and Sava follow him.
Triumph surges through me as I trail behind and acknowledge that I have everyone right where I want them. Even my father on his deathbed.
I've waited a long time to share my story and avenge my mother's death.
I'm no longer the helpless boy who was kept a secret.
I'm Cristian Petukhov. The man. And their reckoning.