Page 33 of Silken Chains
His screams echo off the walls; the more he screams, the wider Ksenia’s cold smirk grows.
I cringe watching this shitshow.
“Alright, Ksenia, cut it out…” I hiss.
Damn, I actually feel sorry for Fyodor. Ksenia’s in a nasty mood today.
“You’re turning this into a bloody mess,” I snap quietly.
Dropping the knife, she wipes her bloody hands without a care. She grabs some masking tape, peeling off a strip with a sharp sound.
Without a hint of mercy, she tapes up his nose and mouth, smothering him. His body shakes desperately, trying to suck in air. Ksenia just watches, cold as hell, as Fyodor’s struggles turn into spasms. His legs kick out, a pathetic last dance, and then he’s just a lifeless heap.
I grunt, watching the scene unfold.
“Fuck’s sake Ksenia. What’s the emergency?” I ask through clenched teeth, pushing away any shred of feeling. “Please don’t tell me you’re here just to enjoy a kill,” I say in frustration.
Ksenia turns to me, her eyes like chips of ice. “Relax, little brother, I am just doing the dirty work for you.”
I’m not sure if I believe her. Ksenia’s always been more ruthless than the rest of us, and I’ve seen her do worse without batting an eye.
She pauses, her face losing its usual edge. “It’s Papa. They think he’s had a stroke. He’s finally caved and gone to the hospital.”
My heart sinks, but I mask it with a scowl. “And…?”
“And,” she adds, “he wants you married. ASAP. We need to keep the Bratva strong, Victor. You need to step up as the Pakhan…
“I’m not fucking with that mess again,” I spit out, pissed.
Shit, the last time I talked to Papa, we were arguing about this very thing. Now, the old man’s laid up in a hospital bed, and here I am, still stubborn as ever.
Guilt gnaws at me, but I shove it down.
“Why the hell are we dragging this ancient crap around?” I snap. “Doesn’t mean I have to marry some chick just to prove I’m a badass, Ksenia.”
“Stop bitching, you knew this was your shit to deal with since you were shitting diapers,” Ksenia fires back.
Blyad, I hate it, but my sister is right.
“And I think this time it’s bad,” Ksenia says, dead serious.
“What the fuck am I supposed to do about it?” I snap, pissed off and frustrated.
“There’s a list of candidates. Choose, or we’re all fucked,” she states bluntly.
I rub my temple. “Candidates?”
She flicks a folded paper my way, and I catch it.
Misha’s looking like he wants to be anywhere but here, his eyes flicking back and forth between us.
“Great,” I mutter sarcastically. “Can’t wait to see this parade of princesses.”
Ksenia’s smirk widens. “You’ll get a kick out of them, I’m sure.”
I scan the list, my face screwing up in disgust.
Suka.
