Page 62 of Depraved Royals

My mother can’t do anything to hurt me now. She only has Vera. Neither of them can handle a gun, and there’s no one left for her to manipulate. Without a Pakhan-in-waiting, she couldn’t rally anyone to her cause if she tried.

The thought is some comfort. Dani and her family will be safe.

As for me, there’s no way I can come back from this.

But I have to see Dani one more time, even if it costs my life.

23

Dani

“Slow down, Fyodor!”

Brutus is shouting, the panic clear in his voice. Mama leaps to her feet and runs for the door, flinging it open.

Papa’s car is coming down the driveway far too fast. He’s advancing on the gates, swerving as he gets nearer. Brutus stands in his way, waving his arms.

“Boss, stop!”

As the car gets closer, I see blood spattered over the hood. The windshield is shattered, and I’m amazed my father can drive the vehicle at all.

The passenger seat is empty.

Something is badly wrong. He’s not slowing down.

“Fyodor!” my mother screams.

It looks like the car will smash into the gates, but at the last moment, it veers off to one side, hitting the garden wall.

Mama runs outside, with Mel and me behind her.

The hood is buckled. The car alarm is blaring, and as I get closer, I see the airbag. My father is slumped face-first into it.

He’s not moving.

Brutus gets there before me. He picks through broken glass and tries to open the door, but it’s too mangled. He reaches through the broken window and pulls my father up, setting him back against the seat.

“Papa,” I sob.

His eyes are closed. There’s a massive patch of blood on his shoulder, soaking through his jacket, and his face is so pale that I can see the veins in his temples. There’s dried blood on his ear too.

Then I see it. His breath mists the air beneath his nose, and I nearly faint with relief.

“We need to get him inside,” Brutus says. “Get something to carry him on, and we’ll all take a corner.”

Mel runs into the house, returning with a bed sheet. We lay it on the ground, and Mama and Brutus carefully lift Papa onto it.

The lounge has the most floor space, so we place him gently onto the rug in front of the fireplace. He’s coming around now, grabbing at Mama’s hands.

“Marta, my Marta…”

“Shh,milaya,” she says, touching his face, “I’m here.”

That’s what Kal calls me. I wonder what—

“He tricked me,” Papa whispers. “That fuckingtruslivyypiece of shit. Argh!” He convulses in pain as Brutus pulls his jacket away from the wound in his shoulder. “Fuckingwarnme if you’re gonna do that!”

Brutus frowns. “The doctor will have to dig that out, Boss,” he says. He goes to the drinks cabinet and returns with a bottle of vodka, handing it to Mama. “Here.”