Page 2 of Bought By Sin

My dying uncle in this bed was the only person who’d ever earned anything close to that title.

Calling Gregori my father was a crime I couldn’t willingly commit.

“Right now, with Gregori forming a shadow network against the Bratva…” Fury raced through me as I trailed off, heating my blood and raising my pulse. Tremors of adrenaline filled me as I bottled in the urge to roar my anger. “He has already caused so much trouble for us.”

I vaguely tracked Alexei’s movement from the corner of my eye as I stared at Uncle Dmitri resting. Nodding his head, my brother heaved out a deep sigh. “There will always be trouble facing us.”

Sure. That was a truth none of us in the Volkov Bratva could deny. We led violent lives and that would never change.

I narrowed my eyes at him, almost mistaking his platitude as dismissal of what Gregori represented. Enemies would never disappear. We had too many to count. The ones we fought valiantly would never stay gone. And the ones we anticipated causing hell would one day be our worst nightmare.

“He’s not just another version of trouble,” I replied, hating that he could sound this dismissive. “Gregori is a valid threat who could end the Bratva.”

He shook his head slowly but held his tongue.

“Ever since Elena discovered that news of his network, ever since we realized John Morovov was siphoning money to him, and ever since we caught Arturo Garcia discrediting our trade agreement to favor him⁠—”

“Fine. You want to argue about how much a pain in the ass this is? You win. You are right. I agree with you that this bullshit we’re facing now is fucking annoying.”

I stood. “Annoying?” That was all he could sum it up as? “Gregori is the reason Uncle Dmitri almost lost his standing.” I flung my hand out to gesture at him. “Because of Gregori, the Bratva could’ve been changed and ruined by his greed to have the throne. A greed that he’s still using as a motivation.”

Alexei grimaced and looked away. “He’s not⁠—”

“Gregori is only doing this because he wants to claim the throne,” I argued. “All these years while Uncle Dmitri rebuilt the Bratva and fortified the empire, Gregori’s been hiding and scheming against us all.”

Pacing away from the bed, I ran my hand over my hair until I could grip the back of my neck. To feel this out of control was tantamount to a fucking mental breakdown. But this was out of control.

Gregori was supposed to have been dead.

I pivoted and glanced at the bed.

And you’re still supposed to be alive. Leading us.

I swallowed hard against the pressure of wanting to roar or scream. Nothing was going as it was supposed to. Nothing was “normal” anymore. And I fucking hated it.

“Gregori can cause trouble all he wants,” Alexei said with his signature gruffness. “Anyone who wants to target the Bratva can try whatever they want. They won’t succeed.”

“The only reason the Bratva is the success that it is today is because Uncle Dmitri miraculously survived that one day when the bombs were detonated. The single event that has given me a lifetime of a cause to loathe Gregori for being such a fucking traitor to his own flesh and blood.”

Alexei shrugged and shoved his hands back into his pockets. “Loathe him all you want. Doesn’t change the fact that he’s alive.”

I gritted my teeth, hating that he could be this passive about Gregori being our enemy. That I could be so threatened by Gregori’s return.

“If he’s going to carry out this plan to take the throne, he’s got a lot of obstacles in his way,” he added.

Not obstacles. People. In order for Gregori to claim the throne as Dmitri’s younger brother, he’d now have to eliminate all four of my cousins first.

“If he’s making his own network to compete with us and weaken us, we won’t take that challenge without a fight.”

We already had been fighting the beginning of what Gregori’s network involved. Through the financial side of business, then with trade and the Cartel.

“I’m not in the mood to discuss it any further.” He lifted his head and met my gaze directly. Looking like any other impatient and frustrated older sibling, he dared me to drag out this conversation for a second longer. He’d never been fond of talking about feelings or anything deeper than what lurked at surface level, but he wasn’t fooling me. He wasn’t cold and unfeeling. He simply shoved it all down and preferred to let things simmer into nothing.

I couldn’t.

I truly fucking couldn’t.

I was too much of a control freak to trick myself into thinking that shrugging and rolling with the punches could be a wise approach to addressing the problems that arose.