Blood. That was all I could see, all I wanted, and all I would take. The coppery tang saturated the air, clinging to my skin, while my fingers twitched, yearning to sink into Vlad Morozov's throat and feel his life drain away.
They thought they could touch him-my brother, my blood. One bullet, one attempt, and now every Morozov would pay.
Fear flickered in Vlad's eyes, and god help me if that stirred excitement within me. His hand brushed my throat. "You've started a massacre, you bastard! Do you even know what you've done? You'll pay!"
Pay? I laughed as his grip tightened. This world was unforgiving. "With what, Morozov?" I tilted my head, madness glinting in my eyes. "Do you think anyone here will survive tonight? Who will care?"
His face flushed red, revealing those sharp, treacherous Morozovian eyes. "You think you can erase this? The world will know, Romanovski. They'll see you for the monster you are!"
Monster? That barely stung. I shrugged, though my rage bubbled beneath the surface.
"The world," I mocked, gesturing to the bloodshed around us. Bodies sprawled like broken marionettes while others trembled in terror. "It runs on power, Vlad. Not justice or morality. Pure power. And right now? You have none."
Desperation crept into his eyes. "My men will kill you if you touch me," he spat, but a tremor betrayed his feigned bravado. "There are consequences to this-"
I interrupted with a laugh sharp as a whip. "And who will deliver these consequences? You? Lucius Morozov? Don't make me laugh."
"I'm Russia's president! I have the power-"
I itched to break him, to feel his throat collapse under my hands, but not yet. The anticipation was too sweet. The air brimmed with heavy fear that fueled me. These people conspired with the Morozovs to destroy the Romanovski clan and betray my father for their own gain.
For two years, I'd plotted this. They said betrayal ran deep, but nobody warned how brutally it choked you on your own blood. I learned that when I held my brother's lifeless body after a bullet meant for me had struck him.
Blood for blood, wasn't that the rule?
An eye for an eye and a soul for a soul. But I intended to take more than their lives; their legacies would be mine.
I scanned the room, remembering every name-Oleg Dmitri, Saunders Bavtronic, Sasha Lor, and their allies. Only one name filled my mind: Lucius Morozov. He'd face his end soon and realize the storm he tried to tame was his undoing.
Didn't he understand? I wasn't just a political rival or a soldier to intimidate.
I was the executioner.
The nightmare.
The reaper in a tailored suit.
Before he could speak, my fist collided with his jaw, the satisfying crunch sending a jolt of pleasure through me. He staggered back, blood dribbling from his lip, and I yanked him closer.
"This isn't power," I hissed, recalling Zayne's pale face, his screams and tears. Another punch landed on his jaw. "Power is watching you squirm, hearing you beg, knowing I could snap your neck with a flick of my wrist!"
The guards didn't move. They knew better. They were mine-bought, broken, and loyal. Vlad's frantic glances for allies found only the cold, lifeless stares of my men.
"You think you're untouchable," he muttered, blood filling his mouth, "but you'll fall. Just like your father."
I froze. His words sliced through my rage. My father would never fall. I slammed Vlad against the wall hard enough to rattle the paintings.
"Mention him again," I growled, "and I'll make your death slow."
His stubbornness only fueled my fury. I wanted to crush him, to make him feel every ounce of the torment he had caused.
Then a soft sob caught my ear. My eyes fell on her, kneeling at the staircase's edge, clutching the banister as if it were her only support. Terror painted her face, but she was here-she needed to be. To see this. To see me.
My little bird. My solace.
In her presence, the chaos and blood faded. She anchored me to something real. She would understand-this was all for her. For us. No one would harm her. I would kill anyone who dared.
Vlad slumped, his struggles weakening, but the defiance in his eyes remained.
Good. Let him keep that spark a little longer-it would make crushing it all the more satisfying. My knuckles were bloodied, his blood painting my skin like a war mask.
I dragged him closer. His face was a mess of blood and swelling. "You'll die knowing you were nothing."
The others tried to move, those cowards cowering in the shadows. They thought I wouldn't notice.
I noticed.
I always noticed.
With a nod to one of my men and the shot rang out, silencing the trembling spineless dogs trying to crawl toward the exit. Blood sprayed the wall. Gasps and shrieks filled the air.
"Anyone else?" I called out. Silence. Cowards. All of them. I could smell the piss and sweat. Fear rolled off them in waves, and I soaked it in like a drug. My father's voice echoed in my mind-weakness is not forgiven.
The guards didn't hesitate as I gestured toward the crowd. Bullets rained down, bodies collapsing like broken dolls. It was symphonic, the sound of their deaths. Each crack of a gunshot was a verse, each scream a chorus. This was power. This was justice.
"Enough," Vlad croaked, his voice barely audible over the chaos. His desperation was pathetic. I turned back to him, laughing as I wiped his blood from my face with the back of my hand.
"Enough?" I mocked. "Enough was two years ago, Vlad. Enough was when you put a bullet in Zayne and dared to leave me alive."
I reached for the knife strapped to my waist and the blade caught the dim light as I pressed it to his throat. He gasped, a sound that only made my grin widen.
"I'll make this slow," I promised. "Because I want you to feel every second of what you took from me."
The knife sliced across his cheek first, a shallow cut, just enough to draw blood. He flinched, his body trembling as I dragged the blade lower, carving lines into his flesh. His screams filled the room, mingling with the sobs of the few survivors. But my little bird-she was silent. Watching. Shaking.
I spared her a glance. Her tears glistened like diamonds in the dim light. Beautiful. Fragile. Mine. I would burn the world to keep her safe, even if it meant she feared me. Fear was a small price to pay for survival.
When I turned back to Vlad, the defiance was gone. He was breaking. Finally. But not enough.
"You tried to kill my brother," I growled, slamming him to the ground. The knife pierced his shoulder, and his scream echoed in a fucking delicious sound.
I didn't stop. The knife plunged again and again, his blood pooling around us, warm and sticky against my hands. His cries grew weaker until they faded into silence, his body still beneath me.
I stood, breathing hard, and turned toward her. She flinched when our eyes met, her sobs quieting as I approached. Her trembling hands reached out, and I grabbed her wrist, pulling her to her feet.
"Take… take me away, please," she whispered. "This place... it's hell."
I cupped her face with blood-streaked hands, smearing crimson across her pale skin. She didn't pull away. Brave little bird.
"I am hell," I said softly. "And I'm taking you with me."
She didn't resist as I pulled her toward the stairs to go to the roof, past the carnage, past the bloodied corpses of those who dared cross me. My men had the helicopter ready. I lifted her into the cabin as we ascended into the sky.
Below us, the flames began to rise, licking at the ruins of the mansion. The screams faded into the wind as I held her close, her tears dampening my shirt. She didn't understand yet, but she would. She'd see why I did this. Why I needed to do this.
"Watch, little bird," I whispered, pressing a kiss to her hair. She shivered but didn't pull away. "I promised I'd show you the fireworks, didn't I?"
I looked down at her, my solace, my anchor. She was scared, but she was here. And I'd kill anyone who tried to take her from me.
Even if it meant killing the rest of the fucking world.