Chapter 15: Sinful Union: Chapter 15

“Come in, dear sister.”

Piotr’s office is exactly what I expected—cold, sterile, and devoid of any personality. Everything about it is designed to intimidate, without an ounce of comfort. A massive desk dominates the space, its polished surface reflecting the overhead lighting.

“Have a seat,” he says, sweeping his hand toward a pair of chairs in front of his desk.

The chairs are small and uncomfortable, meant to make whoever sits in them feel insignificant and uneasy. I roll my eyes.

Piotr slides into the large, cozy, leather chair behind his desk. He places his feet up, steepling his hands over his chest. He wants me to feel like I’m beneath him. I don’t give him the satisfaction.

Instead of taking one of the tiny chairs, I stroll right past them, my heels clicking softly against the floor as I make my way to the bar in the corner. A decanter of expensive whiskey sits on a glass shelf beside crystal tumblers. I pour myself a generous drink, swirling the amber liquid lazily. I don’t offer him one.

Piotr’s lips curl slightly, amusement flickering in his eyes. He knows exactly what I’m doing. He lets me have my little moment and doesn’t call me out on it.

I carry the tumbler over to the couch on the other side of the room, settling into the cushions with a deliberate ease and heavy sigh. If he wants to play games, I’ll play them, too.

His gaze hardens for a quick second, clearly irritated that I didn’t squeeze myself into one of the little “guest” chairs. But his expression soon turns to one of amusement as he leans back in his seat, drumming his fingers on the armrest. If he wants me to squirm, I’m not going to give him the satisfaction.

The amusement is soon replaced with a hard sternness. Time to get down to business.

‘For the second time, Katerina, why isn’t he dead?’

He says it so casually, as if he’s asking me why I forgot to pick up milk from the store, instead of why I haven’t killed my husband. My stomach twists in disgust, but I don’t let it show. Instead, I lift a brow, slowly tracing the rim of my glass with my finger as if I’m bored.

“Because I don’t think the Fetisovs are responsible.” I say it with a steady voice, but inside, my pulse is hammering. I’m not a hundred percent certain they’re innocent. I don’t know anything for sure. I’m going with my gut.

Piotr’s expression doesn’t shift, other than a slight narrowing of his eyes. He stops drumming his fingers on the armrest for half a second before resuming a slow, steady beat. He doesn’t like my answer.

Good.

“I want to do a little digging before I murder a man you used to call your best friend,” I continue, keeping my voice calm and even.

Piotr exhales sharply through his nose, shaking his head. “This is ridiculous. We’ve had this planned for months. And don’t forget, that so-called ‘best friend’ is the person who ordered the hit on our parents.”

I cock my head to the side. “And how do you know that, exactly?”

His jaw tightens. “Everyone knows that,” he says flatly, as if that’s supposed to be enough to convince me.

I scoff, a humorless laugh escaping before I can stop it. “That’s not proof, Piotr. That’s gossip, hearsay.”

Something flashes in his eyes. Annoyance? Frustration? Whatever it is, it vanishes almost instantly.

“What the hell is this?” he asks. “You were dead set on this plan with me, now you’re having second thoughts?” An aggravated sigh follows. “I knew it was a fucking mistake to have you be the one who did the deed. You’re too close to him, always have been. You’re too soft.”

Soft? Describing me as soft simply pisses me off.

The door swings open before I can respond, and Vlad steps in. His glare sweeps between us, reading the tension instantly.

“What’s going on? Are the two of you having a meeting that I’m not a part of?”

Piotr doesn’t hesitate before speaking. He doesn’t even glance my way before replying to our brother. “Kat lacks the guts to move forward with our plan. We may need to resort to other measures.”

I stiffen. The anger that had been simmering beneath my skin finally spills over. I stand and step toward Piotr’s desk, planting my hands on the polished surface, leaning in. “Excuse me?”

Piotr shrugs, as if my reaction doesn’t faze him. “If you won’t do it, I’ll find someone who will.”

Rage ignites in my chest. “You don’t get to decide that,” I snap.

Piotr smirks. “Don’t I?”

My hands tighten into fists. “I am not a cold-blooded killer, Piotr. I won’t kill a man without proof, without a damn good reason.”

He tilts his head, looking at me like I’ve now become a problem that needs to be solved. I can tell he’s pissed, barely holding it together.

“Where the hell is this coming from?” he asks, his voice rising. “While we were formulating the plan, you were chomping at the goddamn bit to see Pavel dead. In fact, you were adamant about being the one to do it. And now, suddenly, you’re getting cold feet and making excuses.”

He has me there. I wasn’t a helpless little bystander in the plan. I’d helped put it together, promised to see it through. I purse my lips. “I just want to be certain, that’s all.”

The air in the room is thick, suffocating. A silent battle waged in glares and clenched fists.

Vlad clears his throat, stepping between us. “Enough,” he says firmly, “both of you.”

Piotr leans back in his chair once again, exhaling loudly as if we’ve exhausted him. “This was never supposed to be this complicated. He should already be dead.”

Vlad’s eyes flick to me. “I think it was always going to be complicated.”

Piotr scoffs, shaking his head. “No, she’s just making it that way.”

I inhale sharply, clenching my teeth to keep from screaming. Piotr acts like this is all so simple. As if taking a life—taking this life, in particular—is just another business transaction. But it isn’t. Not for me. Not for Vlad, either, apparently.

Vlad crosses his arms over his chest, his jaw tight. “She wants time,” he says. “Give it to her.”

Piotr levels him with a cold stare. “Are you kidding? She doesn’t deserve more time. If you ask me, she’s grown weak. She’s simply stalling.”

“Screw you, Piotr,” I shoot back.

Piotr looks at me with that infuriatingly calm and amused expression. “I have proof.”

My heart kicks up. Finally. “Then show me,” I challenge.

His smirk is slow and condescending. “I can’t. The man who told me died three years ago.”

The rush of anticipation that had flared turns to ash. I laugh. I can’t help it. The situation is so ridiculous that all I can do is laugh. Even Vlad’s serious expression cracks for a moment.

“What’s so goddamn funny?” he asks.

“That’s not proof, Piotr, that’s a fucking rumor from a dead man.”

His gaze hardens.

I say, “Like I told you, I’m going to do some digging, whether you like it or not.”

Piotr’s gaze darkens, his jaw tightening. “You’ll do what you’re told.”

“No, I won’t.” The air ignites, the disparities between us erupting in an instant.

Piotr slams his fist on the desk as he stands, his chair tipping backward. “You think this is some kind of game, Kat? You think this is about feelings?”

I step closer, refusing to back down. “I think you’re reckless. I think you’re dragging us into a war without any goddamn proof.”

His eyes burn into mine, unflinching. “I think you’re weak and scared.”

“And I think you’re desperate.”

His nostrils flare. “Everything I do, I do for this family.”

I scoff. “Is that what you tell yourself? That this is about family, about justice? This is about you and the power you crave, Piotr, nothing more.”

He stares me down, his voice quiet as he says, “He killed our parents.”

“You don’t know that for sure!” I snap, my voice rising.

“I know enough.”

“You know nothing,” I spit back, closing the distance between us. “You want to talk about weakness? About loyalty? You’re using Dad’s death as an excuse to justify your cruelty, your desire for power.”

His expression turns cold. “Watch your mouth.”

I ignore him, pressing forward, my voice laced with venom. “You’re not a leader like he was. You don’t inspire loyalty, Piotr. You demand obedience.”

The words hit their mark. I can see it in his eyes.

For the first time, he doesn’t have a response. His lip curls in disgust. “You’re a traitor to this family, and you’re a coward.”

The words cut deep, but not because I believe them. It proves exactly what I’ve always known: Piotr doesn’t want a sister; he wants a soldier.

Before I can lash back, Vlad slams his palm against the wall. “Enough!”

Silence crashes over us like a tidal wave.

I turn to Vlad, breathing hard, my chest rising and falling rapidly. He stands between us now, his eyes hard, jaw set. He’s the only thing keeping Piotr and me from tearing each other apart. Piotr stares down Vlad but he doesn’t flinch.

“I think she at least deserves the chance to find the truth. Once this is done, it’s done. And it’s not just a matter of feeling bad for poor Pavel. His death will put into motion events that we won’t be able to undo. We need to get this right.”

Piotr’s jaw flexes, but he doesn’t argue.

Vlad exhales slowly. “Give her the time she’s asking for.”

Piotr doesn’t respond.

“Come on,” Vlad says. “The longer she keeps him alive, the more intel she could come across.”

That gets Piotr’s attention. Vlad, sensing that he’s onto something, continues. “When Pavel’s dead, his Bratva is going to fall into total chaos. Every family in the city is going to try to bite off a piece of what he’s got in the aftermath. It’s not just about killing him, it’s about timing. The more information we gather, the better positioned we’ll be to take advantage of what happens once word spreads that he’s gone.”

“We’re not going to get another chance like this,” I add. “Might as well take advantage of it.”

Piotr stares at me, his fingers tapping on the polished wood of his desk. “Two weeks.”

His voice is clipped. Final. “Not a day longer. You’d better make good use of the extra time. Find out everything you can about his operations.”

I want to argue for more than two weeks. I need more than that. But I know Piotr and I know that’s all I’m going to get.

Grudgingly, I nod. “Fine.”

His lips twitch slightly, like he knows how much I hate agreeing with him. I turn to Vlad, softening just slightly. “Thank you.”

He nods, reaching for my hand and squeezing it briefly before I press a kiss to his cheek.

I turn to leave, my hand already curling around the doorknob, desperate to get away from Piotr before I say something I can’t take back.

But just as I start to open the door, Piotr speaks. “Your duty is still to this family, Katerina.”

I don’t turn around. Instead, I keep my hand on the doorknob, my fingers tightening around the cool metal. Then, without looking back, I say the only thing I know for certain. “My loyalty lies with those who are loyal to me.”

Silence.

I can feel Piotr’s stare. Heavy. Assessing. Calculating. He’s deciding something, testing me.

I open the door and step out, asking myself the question I should have been asking all along:

Who is Piotrtruly loyal to?