Vengeful Deeds

CHAPTER 3

Konstantin POV

I hate America.

I prefer the cold, I prefer people who speak my language. And I definitely prefer everyone knowing exactly who I am when I walk into a room. That isn’t to say I don’t make it perfectly clear by just the way I enter a room that I am not someone to be f****d with. Because I do.

But back home I don’t have to worry so much about needing to shoot someone in the face for disrespecting me. It’s also not as convenient to clean up any messes my men and I make here. In Russia most of the government and politsyia revere me or fear me. Whereas here, as soon as I landed my private jet I probably had their law enforcement tailing my every move. It’s just.. exhausting.

“It’s all set.” Max says as he opens the car door for me and I slide in.

“Good. Make the call after the meeting starts.” I add as I scroll through my phone to text Cosimo.

“Da.” Is all Max says before he climbs in the drivers seat, followed by Alek in the passengers side.

Max has been grumpy all day, he wanted to bring more men. But it isn’t necessary and I don’t like to leave my families home unprotected. Not with my precious Mika sleeping soundly in her room.

“Alek. You will go find Anton, do not lose sight of him. I don’t plan on wasting this trip.”

“Da.” He says and gives me a stiff nod in acknowledgment.

An hour later I’m getting out of the shower and wrapping a towel around my waste. I can hear Max out in the suit watching something on the t.v. and that familiar ache returns. That throbbing pain I sometimes get in my head, near my scar. I take some deep breaths to try and slow my pulse, it always helps. Then I wipe my hand across the mirror and stair back at myself.

I turn my head to the left so I can look at the scar on the right side of my face. This jagged little scar near my temple is a reminder, and it’s helped me to stay focused all these years. Because it never let’s me forget that horrible f*****g night.

They thought they killed me, and they should’ve made sure.

My father made many enemies when he fought his way out of the slums of Russia and took over the Turgenev Bratva. But he did not steal it, it was handed to him by his Pakhan before he died. My father’s mistake was assuming that his fellow bratva brothers would be welcoming of the shift of power. He also made a lot of changes that pissed people off. But none were more angry than Dimitri Turgenev’s coke head son, Gregor.

And even though I enacted my revenge against Gregor long ago, killing him many times and bringing him back to life only to kill him again; remembering all he did that night still churns my stomach and rips my heart inside out. Makes me wish he was still alive so I could kill him some more.

I can still here Nina’s screams, still hear my father screaming on his knees begging Gregor to stop. Mama was already dead, shot in the head and holding my eight year old little brother. Mikhail, he was also dead and shot in the head. When Gregor was done with Nina he slit her throat in front of me and Papa. She was seventeen years old. Then he set is sights on my little sister, Mika. She was only fourteen.

I don’t remember all of what happened next, but I do know my bear was born that night. I got free of the men holding me back, the bratva who I thought was family was forcing me to watch Gregor defile and humiliate my sisters. I snapped, and I know I was able to kill them. With a knife I used to carry in my boots. But by the time I could get my sights on Gregor, and my steps towards him, his g*n was aimed at my head. And then everything goes black.

A knock rips me out of my dark reverie and brings me back to the present.

“Pakhan, you have a visitor.” Max says outside my bathroom door. I can hear the tightness in his voice, so I know who’s here. Because he does not like her.

“Send her in. Go downstairs.” I order, and I hear Max sigh, in frustration or disappointment, I don’t know. But he does as I say, he always does.

I bring a towel to my hair and finish drying myself off, then I wrap the towel back around my waist tighter. I walk out of the bathroom and Maya is sitting on my bed, leaning back and resting on her elbows. Her t**s are almost popped out of the skin tight dress she’s in and her long slender legs are crossed in front of her. What would be appealing right now to most men does very little for me.

To be honest, it’s not about attraction with her. And I rarely see her, she’s just stateside p***y. And she’s eagerly obedient, submissive, which is a must for me.

But she seems off right now, wily and seductive. I don’t like it.

“Hey you..” she sounds out of breath and her n*****s pucker beneath the thin fabric of her red dress. I don’t even try to hide my irritation, I roll my eyes and walk to my door, because this isn’t happening. I open the bedroom door and I glare back at her.

She sits up straight quickly and her eyes widen.

“W-what’s wrong, baby?” She asks, sounding bizarrely panicked, and that she thinks she can call me baby only further pisses me off.

“You go, now!” I say curtly, her hands fidget in her lap nervously, but I don’t miss the pinch of her eyes and the anger that flared behind them. She gets up and walks towards me, she stops in front of me and tries to give me those eyes, I don’t know what they’re called here.. sad eyes? I think Americans call them Puppy dog eyes.

In Russia we call them pathetic eyes, and I swear my d***s never been more uninspired then in this moment.

“I’m sorry, Sir..” she gets on her knees and looks up at me “.. let me make it up to you.” She says as she goes to pull my towel off, but I grab her wrists roughly and pull her back to her feet.

“No. We will meet no more. I said go.” I repeat, and I have to grind my back teeth because she’s f*****g testing my patience. I won’t hurt her, I don’t hurt women. But that doesn’t mean I won’t break her in other ways.

“What the f**k?! What did I do? I thought you liked me?! You f*****g called me over!” She says indignantly, with a demeanor she’s never shown me before. I feel lied to, manipulated, and I once again don’t bother hiding my irritation. I snort and roll my eyes.

“I never liked you, I on occasion enjoyed your mouth. When it was gagged with my c**k. But that’s over, you don’t deserve to suck me off anymore.” I respond easily and her face scrunches up in disgust and turns red, she looks as if her head is about to pop off. I chuckle darkly, on the inside, for some reason this thought of her head combusting amuses me.

I see the rabid anger in her eyes immediately, and then she lets out a banshee like scream and comes at me with her claws. But she moves too slow and I easily grab her wrists, twist her forward out the door and pin her hands behind her back.

“Get your f*****g hands off of me, asshole!” She screams as I walk her to the door.

“Happily, Amerikanskiy. As soon as you’re out of my suite.” She thrashes and screams some more, I easily maneuver both her wrists into one hand when I get to the door, then open the door with my free hand and throw her out.

She turns quickly and sucks in a big gulp of air as if gearing up to scream at me some more. But I slam the door in her face and walk away. To my surprise there’s no screaming or banging on the outside of the door. But I take no chances, I grab my phone and text Max.

Konstantin: I took out the trash, make sure it leaves. Inform security she is not welcome on the premises again.

Max: Da.

I rub my temples in frustration, I really needed that release. Blyad’. I need to clear my head.

I get dressed and pour a glass of vodka, because I need a taste of home right now. Then I sit on the couch and pull out the file I’ve combed through a million times. It’s the intel Alek gathered when he was here a week ago.

Nothing in it will tell me anything new, and I’m really only interested in one photo inside it right now. It’s a candid shot of the girl, Alessia. She’s sitting at a coffee shop, outside reading a book. She’s looking up and smiling at the server.

I can’t seem to stop starring at this picture.

I didn’t know why at first, I only knew that she looked familiar to me and I couldn’t shake it. It took awhile to piece any intel on her together at all, she has virtually no online presence. But yesterday before we left I finally remembered who she reminds of; Galena. Anton Tenovski’s wife, the one that disappeared a month before the attack on my family.

I had to look through old photos that had been packed away and long forgotten. It was not easy. But I eventually found a photo of Anton and Galena. And this Alessia, she looks just like Galena. Same bright blue almond shaped eyes, same wide set mouth with pouty lips, and same high cheekbones. Russian cheekbones. The only differences are their heights and their hair. Alessia is much taller, and has a thick head of black curly hair. Whereas Galena was tiny, no more than five foot five, and had long straight golden locks.

My best guess right now is that this Alessia is his daughter, and that Anton Tenovski might have kin. I’d never hurt her, she’s an innocent in all this. Just as Mika, Nina, and Mikhail were. But Alek is right, she could be leveraged.

I stare at the photo a little longer before putting it away.

And when I lay back and rest my head on the couch I’m surprised to still her face in my mind. I’ve been looking at it too much, I feel guilt over what must be done.

But then I see Nina’s tear soaked face, Papa’s helpless and enraged eyes, and little Mika’s body as she rocks back and forth on the floor in the fetal position. And that guilt is gone.

I’ll do what has to be done. There’s no other way.