Page 44 of The Bratva's Forced Marriage

“What if I don’t want to?” I blew out more smoke.

Her eyes hardened and her lips turned to a thin line. “But I want to.”

I sighed. There was no point; if I continued, we were going to start another fight. I grabbed the car keys and an umbrella. “Take your time. I’ll be in the car.”

The drive to the Fetcher family home was as eerily quiet as I had expected. I didn’t question her; didn’t bother to find out why she insisted on visiting the house after the funeral. There was nothing there and I was in the best position to know. During the search for Liam, I had ordered one of my men to completely trash the house. But if it was her wish to see the wreckage, then I would have no problem fulfilling it.

After all, she blamed me for her misery, regardless of the fact that I was innocent in this case. How fucking ironic.

When we got to the porch, she pulled a spare key from under a flowerpot and unlocked the door, which was already half off its hinges. The garden on the corner was more like a desert and dust covered everything in the house.

Her sniffle took my attention away from a large spider spinning a web on the ceiling.

“It’s just so hard to believe this is happening.” There was a great deal of emotion in her voice. She rubbed her elbows and wiped her eyes. “How quickly life happens, doesn't it? One minute I have someone to call family, and the next his body is stuffed in a coffin and buried with dirt ...”

She ran her fingers over the dusty walls and the old family pictures hanging on them. And I followed her patiently as she reminisced. There was one photo that caught her attention and made her feet stop.

It was a picture of her and Liam smiling in front of an ice cream parlor. They were years younger: Juliana was no more than ten years old, and Liam was in his vibrant teens. He carried her on his shoulders and looked up at her as she grinned at the camera. She lifted the frame and stroked their happy faces. “I swear, Liam ...” she cried. “I swear if I could ... I’d do anything to bring you back to me. You don’t deserve this.”

I lifted my hand to her shoulder to offer a gentle squeeze.

“Don’t you think you’ve hurt her enough, Rafa?”

I furrowed my brow and turned around. “Uncle Oleg.” My gaze wandered to the black Glock in his grip. One hand on his cane and the other on the gun. My frown deepened. I looked back and forth between him and Juliana and was taken aback when I saw the flat expression on her face.

Like she had seen this coming.

“What the fuck is going on here? What is this?”

“Isn’t it obvious? See this as something long overdue, Rafail.” He rested on his cane, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Your touch is the touch of death, and you are about to get what you deserve; a full repayment for breaking the poor girl’s heart, killing her cousin and all.”

His finger hovered over the trigger and aimed at my forehead. Then he pointed the gun at Juliana’s heart with a boisterous laugh and my eyes flashed red. My blood felt like it was slowing and thickening in my veins, but my heart was racing a hundred miles an hour.

She staggered backward, startled, with her hand over her mouth. “What are you doing?”

“Doing the right thing, my dear.” He gritted his teeth and made a pout. “After I killed your beloved husband, I can’t let you leave here alive. You may not know it, but you've got a big mouth, Juliana. You could go out and tell the world what happened. Do you know what that would mean for me? If word gets out that I killed my blood? I'll never let that happen. So, if he dies, you must go too. Make the story look like this instead: Poor Juliana killed Rafail because she was heartbroken, and after she killed him, she couldn’t live with herself anymore and committed suicide.”

“You're a sick old man, Oleg!” She raved next to me.

“Like I said, you have a big mouth.” He raised a brow at me. “Is this how she talks to you? If so, that means you’ve grown soft Rafail. Such a fucking pity.”

I didn’t concentrate on what he was saying. All I wanted to know was, “Why?” I shook my head, unable to comprehend the sight before me as my uncle pointed a gun at me. “Why are you doing this, Oleg?”

My question seemed to annoy him. The mirth in his eyes disappeared and the faint smile on his lips vanished. “Did you just ask me why? Don’t you know? Don’t you know what you’ve done, you fucking greedy bastard? You’ve had your time, Rafail. First Moscow, and now you've got New York City under your thumb. And when? When do I get my fucking time? And if not me, when will my son finally get his chance?”

I swiped a thumb under my lip and scoffed. “This is about jealousy?”

“Yes!” He roared. “Jealousy, envy… call it what you want. It doesn’t change your fate today. I’m going to kill you and your fucking wife, right here and now.”

Juliana trembled and her lips quivered with fear. I pulled my gun from my back and aimed it at his head.

Oleg laughed loud and hard until his eyes watered.

“You are such a fool. Your gun has no bullets, Rafail. Before you two came here, I asked your pretty one to empty all the bullets.” He cocked his head to the side; a wicked grin on his face spreading. “You had your shot. Now, I’ll have mine.”

His finger pressed down on the trigger.

Click.