Page 16 of Bratva Menace

He held up the bloodstained knife in his hands. “I’ve been a little busy.”

“Me too.” I gestured down with a tilt of my head.

Aleksandr’s eyes widened. Drea gasped.

“Fuck! What happened?!”

“Shot by one of those fuckers over there,” I snarled. “Is the situation handled?”

Aleksandr’s gaze did a lap of the yard.

Pure. Carnage.

Tables were overturned. Food was strewn everywhere. Bodies littered the ground. Since it had been our own men who attacked us, I couldn’t tell if the dead were friends or foe, but there were a lot of them.

My gaze clashed with Aleksandr’s, the anger burning in his eyes mirrored in my own.

“Fucking Grandfather,” we both growled.

CHAPTER FIVE

LUKYAN VOLKOV

“Can we not throw one goddamn party without someone trying to fucking kill us?!” my father roared, thumping a closed fist down onto the table. He immediately winced, clutching his injured shoulder.

The doctor standing over him watched with fearful eyes, licking his dry lips nervously. “Sir, please, try to stay still.”

“Fucking Sergei!” he spat. “I’m going to kill him. I’m going to fucking kill him. I’m going to strangle him, nice and slow, and then cut out his tongue and shove it down his fucking throat.” He went off on a tangent, switching to Russian as he continued to threaten and cuss out Grandfather like a drunken sailor.

The doctor glanced around the room, looking for help. He couldn’t treat my father’s wound until he calmed down—something I didn’t think was going to happen anytime soon.

My siblings and I all avoided eye contact with the man.

Spread out around the kitchen in our home, we all sported our own injuries—nothing too severe, thank God. Illayana and Arturo were sitting next to each other at the dining table opposite the kitchen island. Aleksandr was leaning back on one of the barstools, Drea right beside him, holding a bloody bandage to his head. Tatiana was seated in one of the armchairs Nikolai had dragged in from the lounge room, my brother behind her, massaging her shoulders. Autumn was standing next to the doctor, hands on her hips, a cross look on her face. And I was lounging back in one of the chairs in front of the dining table, my body relaxed but my mind hyperfocused.

Several maids were working hard, cooking up a feast and trying their best to get us all to eat and drink something. The kitchen was a hive of activity, everyone unsure what to do with themselves now that the battle was over.

Father was still going off.

Wow. He was really fucking pissed. I’d seen him rant before, but this…this was next-level.

And we all knew better than to interrupt him when he was like that.

He would run out of steam eventually. We just had to wait him out.

When Father got to his feet in a huff as if he was about to go and hunt down my grandfather right there and then, the doctor panicked, his eyes widening.

“Sir, sit down. Please. You’re in no condition⁠—”

“I’m fine,” Father barked, taking a step forward.

“Sit. Down,” Autumn ordered, voice like ice.

Father hesitated, freezing on the spot. He licked his lips, and for the first time in my life, I saw nervousness skate across his features. “Autumn⁠—”

She did nothing but narrow her eyes in warning.

Father collapsed back into his chair with an angry growl.