Several days had already passed since Vera’s disappearance, and Kirill couldn’t find any peace. The date of the attack had been set, the plan discussed in detail, yet his soul remained restless. He paced across the Persian carpet with particular ferocity, grinding it underfoot. In some places, the pile was already badly worn.
“Son, calm down,” Miroslav tried to reason with Kirill. “I understand you perfectly, but panic won’t help.”
“Every time I imagine my girl there alone with that sick bastard…”
“He’s still her father. He won’t harm his own blood.”
“You really think selling her blood for huge sums of money isn’t harming her?”
“Kir, calm down already,” Maxim cut in.
The brothers decided to distract themselves with wine. Or rather, Maxim drank the wine while Kirill continued pacing t
