Page 28 of Tainted Empire
I think about this and something else comes to mind, something I haven’t thought about in a while. I lean forward, my elbows resting on my knees, as I lock eyes with my father.
“I’m sure you remember the car chase shootout a few months back,” I start, my voice low. “Gabriette was with me. It could’ve been bad, Papa. Really bad.” The memory sends a shiver of anger through me.
“But I didn’t tell you that we had a survivor questioned and he had… a bit to say,” I say, my father’s gaze making me feel uncomfortable. Fuck, I forgot to tell him. “His last words were that someone has a blood vendetta out against me, and that I would know who it is when the time comes.”
The mention of a blood vendetta has brought a palpable tension into the room, a sense of unease that even the years have not dulled. My father pauses, considering this new information. His eyes, usually so sharp and calculating, now reflect a deep well of thought.
“A blood vendetta is a serious claim, Mischa,” he finally says. “It’s not something invoked lightly. It’s personal, deeply rooted in family honor. The last person you...” He trails off, the unspoken name hanging between us.
“Dasha,” I finish for him, the name a bitter taste in my mouth. I clench my fist, feeling a surge of anger. “So, what? I’m supposed to believe she had a family who waited ten fucking years to come after me? Last time I checked, she had no fucking family to speak of; she was the only heir left to her name.”
“It wouldn’t be the first time revenge has been a slow burn,” my father nods slowly, his expression grave. “Vendettas in our line of work are like fucking wildfire; they spread fast and burn everything in their path. And they don’t just fade away; they fester, grow.”
I let out a frustrated sigh and got to my feet, pacing. “Fuck, if it’s them, whoever they are, they’ve been planning this for years. Waiting for the right moment to strike back at me.”
My father’s eyes narrow slightly, a calculating gleam behind them. “I’ll make some calls, see what I can dig up about Dasha’s family, see if they exist or if they’ve been up to anything... unusual. But you need to be prepared. Vendettas can get messy, and they often drag up the past we thought was buried.”
“I’m always fucking prepared,” I snap and slam my fist against the wall, the impact reverberating through the room. “This is bullshit! If they’re after me, they’re after Gabriette too. I can’t... I won’t let them hurt her.”
He stands up, his presence commanding the room and I find myself shrinking to my ten-year-old self again.
“Calm down, Mischa; losing your temper won’t solve anything. Let me make some calls. I still have contacts who owe me favors. If Dasha’s family is behind this, we’ll find out.”
I nod, taking a deep breath, trying to rein in my anger. “Alright. Do what you have to do. But I want in on whatever you find out. This is my fight, too.”
“You’ll be the first to know. Just stay put and try not to do anything rash. We need to play this smart.”
As he leaves the room, I’m left alone with my thoughts, each one a sharp edge cutting through the calm I’m desperately trying to maintain. The idea that Dasha’s death is still causing ripples now, threatening the life I’ve built, the woman I love... It’s like a noose tightening around my neck.
I run a hand through my hair, feeling the weight of the world on my shoulders. “Fuck,” I mutter under my breath.
The waiting game is the hardest part, not knowing when or where the next blow will come from. But one thing is clear: whoever is behind this vendetta, they’ve just reignited a war they can’t hope to win.
I’ll protect Gabriette, protect my family, at any cost. And if Dasha’s family is behind this, they’ll soon learn that I’m not a man to be trifled with.
The tension in the room ratchets up as my father re-enters, his expression more serious than before. There’s a new weight to his presence, the kind that comes with making a difficult but necessary decision.
“Heard back from a… Romanian partner,” he announces, cutting straight to the chase. “They’ll be in touch within the next 24 hours.”
“Kaius Tulvan?” I ask, my heart rate picking up. The name alone brings a slew of memories, most of them marked by a healthy dose of caution and respect.
My father nods, a brief flicker of distaste crossing his features. “Yes, him. Never liked the bastard, but he’s got his uses. And he’s trustworthy, in his own way.”
“Trustworthy as a snake, maybe. But if anyone can dig up dirt, it’s Kaius,” I can’t help but smirk. “Never thought I’d see the day when you’d willingly work with him.”
My father shoots me a look that’s half-exasperated, half-resigned. “Don’t get smart with me, Mikhail. This is serious shit. We’re not exactly in a position to be choosy about our allies.”
Approaching my father, I see the years etched on his face, the burden of leadership weighing heavily on his shoulders. He’s a man who’s sacrificed much for the Bratva, for our family. And now, he’s reaching out to a man he despises for my sake.
I let out a low chuckle, the tension easing slightly. “Understood, Papa. And thank you for swallowing your pride on this one. Kaius might be our best shot at getting to the bottom of this mess.”
His gaze softens, and he steps forward, clapping a firm hand on my shoulder. “Anything for family, son. You know that.”
I nod, feeling a surge of gratitude. In our world, where trust is a rare commodity, having someone like my father in my corner is invaluable.
“Thanks, Papa,” I say, my voice thick with gratitude and a tinge of guilt. I reach out and pull him into a rare embrace. It’s not often that we show affection like this, but sometimes, words aren’t enough.
He pats my back, a silent acknowledgment of the moment. “Just make sure you keep your head on straight. This situation’s a powder keg, and we don’t need you lighting any matches.”