Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 103656 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 518(@200wpm)___ 415(@250wpm)___ 346(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103656 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 518(@200wpm)___ 415(@250wpm)___ 346(@300wpm)
The people inside the van shoot their own bullets, hitting two bouncers before the side door opens and the duffel bag is thrown out. Then they rev down the street at high speed.
Kirill perches beside Yuri and rewinds the footage a few seconds, then pauses at the moment the door opens. He does it a few times, watching and rewatching the moment the duffel bag was thrown out.
He lets it play again and clicks the intercom that connects him to his senior guard. “There’s a person inside the duffel bag, Viktor. If he’s not dead, kill him.”
“Yes, sir.” Viktor slowly opens the zipper and everyone, including me, focuses on the picture that Yuri projects on three large monitors.
Viktor pauses when he gets a view of the person. The only thing we see from the camera’s angle is a head and short bloodied hair.
“Is he dead?” Yuri asks.
“No,” Viktor replies.
“Why aren’t you shooting then?” Kirill asks.
Viktor looks at the camera with a bemused expression. “It’s Mr. Konstantin, Boss. Should I kill him?”
Kirill actually pauses as if he’s really thinking of finishing his younger brother’s life. Then he casually says, “No need. Take him to my office, and make sure he’s conscious when I get there.”
He doesn’t wait for Viktor to reply and stares at Yuri. “I want you to strengthen the security while you figure out who’s behind that van.”
“I don’t think they will come back…” Yuri trails off when Kirill looks at him pointedly. “On it, Boss.”
He starts to leave the control room, but he stops at the door. “You’re coming with me, Lipovsky.”
My heart tightens with a strange sense of pain. It’s been ages since he called me that—since the army, to be more specific. I don’t care if Viktor does it, but it’s different with Kirill.
I don’t like to be called by the fake last name. It feels distant. Almost as if we’re strangers.
Still, I follow after, even while keeping a distance. I expect Kirill to pick up where he left off earlier, but he doesn’t even address me during the walk from the security room to his office.
The only part of him I can see is his back—broad, imposing, and…far.
He seems so far away right now. There’s always been a wall between us. Though it’s not disruptive, it’s there, highlighting the difference between us.
Kirill Morozov is a man of no morals. A monster with no limits. A beast in the form of a sophisticated gentleman.
There were times when I thought the wall was shrinking in size, specifically on the rare occasion when I thought Kirill was being kind. When he saved me and took care of me. When he protected my identity. When he looked at me as if I were the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.
I actually believed him when he told me I was gorgeous.
Now, I realize all of those moments could’ve been me trying to rationalize the hole I’ve been digging for myself, just to make myself believe that I’m different to him.
That maybe I hold a special place in his cutthroat life.
But right now, that wall keeps getting taller, crushing my futile hopes and every rosy thought I ever had.
When we arrive at the office, we find Viktor lowering an unconscious Konstantin onto one of the chairs. Blood trickles down his temple. His usually impeccable dark brown suit is crumpled, and his white shirt is soaked with blood.
His right eye and his lips are swollen, one of his shoes is missing, and his chest is smattered with cigarette burns.
There’s no doubt about it—he was tortured.
Despite his thirst for power and lack of practical decision-making skills, Konstantin isn’t actually a bad person. I think he’s just jealous of Kirill and hates his mind games. He’s also too influenced by Yulia’s hatred to see straight.
Ever since that incident in the Pakhan’s house where he was kicked out and thoroughly humiliated by Kirill, he’s been either avoiding him or glaring at him from afar.
Somewhat like Karina.
Yulia has been taking him to her family’s conventions, probably trying to build his power again. Kirill completely ignored that fact when Viktor brought it to his attention.
“They’re weak and won’t be able to accomplish anything. Let them entertain themselves by trying,” was the reply he gave.
Right now, however, Konstantin looks to be in critical shape.
“Should I call the doctor?” I ask.
“No,” Kirill says. “Wake him up, Viktor.”
“But he could have an infection,” I argue. He’s his brother, after all, no?
“I don’t have all day,” he addresses Viktor, completely ignoring me.
The burly guard nods and pours a bottle of water on Konstantin’s head. He startles awake, inhaling sharply, then breaks out in a fit of coughs.
His good eye widens, but the other remains half shut as he takes in the sight of Kirill standing in front of him.
“Who did this?” Kirill asks. “Who’s trying to send me a message through your useless life?”