Page 51 of Bratva Menace

“Of course.” Father made his way back to Autumn. He put his arm around her, pulling her into his side. “Let’s go.”

When we got to the front gate, Viktor stood on guard, that cool-as-fuck machine gun in his hands. He was missing something, though.

His. Fucking. Eye.

There was a big white bandage over his left eye, and it didn’t take a genius to figure out it had been cut out of him.

“Youch,” I commented, stopping in front of him. “What the fuck happened there?”

He did nothing but sneer at my father.

I looked over my shoulder, my mouth dropping open. “Did Grandfather do that because he let us through the gate yesterday when he wasn’t supposed to?” I whispered under my breath.

Grimly, Father nodded once.

Fucking hell. Talk about ruthless.

“One more infraction, and he’ll lose a limb. After that, he’ll be useless to Sergei, and he will most likely dispose of him.”

The gate opened. I gave Viktor an awkward smile because I kinda felt bad for the dude. “A little harsh, don’t you think?” I asked, walking out.

Father shrugged, as if he was used to that level of brutality. “Sergei gives three chances. The first infraction, fifty whips to the back. The second, loss of an eye. The third, a limb. He makes them choose which one they want to part with. After that, well…”

Yeah. Death.

A black limo was parked out on the street. “Ooo, riding in style. Nice.”

We all piled into it. Once seated, I took a look around. I’d never been inside a limo before. At the very front was an opening with a partition that separated the front from the back. It was lowered. A woman sat in the driver’s seat. She didn’t turn around, keeping her head forward. I glimpsed a lock of honey blonde hair peeking out from the bottom of the black cap on her head.

The engine roared to life, and the vehicle moved, heading to our destination. My father pushed a small bottle of vodka into my hands. It was like one of those ones you’d see in a minibar at a hotel room.

“Some liquid courage. You’ll need it for what comes next.”

I took it and downed the whole thing in one gulp. I wasn’t nervous about what was to happen. More…apprehensive. A thousand things could go wrong, and I had no control over any of it.

We pulled up at the venue. It was nice. Basic. To be quite honest, though, given my Grandfather’s net worth, I would have expected something a little more boujee.

I got out of the car, walked through the lobby, and was ushered into a reception area in a trance. Almost as if I weren’t in control of my own body. Like I was an outsider, watching on from above.

Before I knew it, I was standing at the altar beneath a floral arch. A man dressed in black robes was standing beside me. An aisle ran down the center of the room. There were minimal decorations. Minimal thought put into any of it. It made me purse my lips in distaste as I stared out into the room. The color scheme was completely wrong. Not to mention the fact that they’d chosen beige Napoleon chairs.

Beige.

If I had any say in it, this wouldn’t have been what my wedding looked like. And I for damn sure wouldn’t have selected yellow roses as the primary flower choice.

Father and Autumn sat in the front row on the right-hand side, his hand on her thigh, her hand on top of his, both giving me supportive smiles. There were a few random people in the background. People I’d never seen before—or, more than likely, never paid attention to before. The same went for the left side. I recognized no one except for my father and Autumn. My grandfather was nowhere in sight. Neither were any of his men or Mr. Average.

I wondered if we were in the right place. It didn’t make sense that we’d get to the venue before Sergei did. Especially when this marriage was such a big deal for him. That he had so much at stake.

I turned to the man beside me. “What are the names of the people you’re marrying?”

He frowned slightly. “Lukyan Volkov and Anya Tarasova.”

Okay. So definitely in the right place then. Just to be safe, I pulled out my phone to message Sergei. With so much at risk, I couldn’t afford for something as trivial as being in the wrong location to screw everything up. When I glanced at the screen, I saw that I already had a message from him.

Sally Sergei: Running late. Continue without me.

Weird.