“You started without me?” Yvgeny asked with no emotion in his voice.

“I just gave him a little sample of what was to come,” Aleczander said without looking up from cleaning his hands.

“Gun, chains, bat—”

“Brass knuckles,” Yvgeny said, cutting off one of the Bratva men standing in the corner. “Just brass knuckles for this fucker. He’ll get to feel every blow ten times over.” Yvgeny curled his hand into a fist, the brass already on his hand, the metal warming from his body heat. This wasn’t going to be slow, and he wasn’t going to take his time. Yvgeny had too much anger in him right now, and that meant beating the living shit out of this asshole.

“Vasilisa’s okay?” he asked Aleczander.

“She’s bruised and in pain.” Aleczander clenched his jaw, the anger radiating from him. “Alexa?”

“She’s still out, but she’ll be okay. Physically at least.”

Yvgeny rolled his head around on his neck, heard cracking, and felt the tension start to increase when it should have lessened. He was too juiced up for this, too pissed off, and tonight there would be death.

He took his button-down shirt off, leaving him only now in his white T-shirt and slacks.

Taking one more look at the fucker on the ground, he tipped his chin toward Ivan and Gregor. The two men lifted up the fucker so he was now standing. “Keep him up for this,” Yvgeny said. “Look at me, you fucking piece of shit,” he gritted out, and waited for the prick to lift his head and look Yvgeny in the eye. “I’m about to make you piss and shit your pants, and only when you wish for death as a way out will I finally deliver it.”

The prick opened his mouth, maybe to say something, but his mouth was all fucked up, and blood started to drip out. Yvgeny looked at Aleczander. The boss was staring at the asshole, his focus controlled, cold, hard.

“Finish it or I’m going to,” Aleczander said.

And just like that the very thin, nearly frayed line that was inside of Yvgeny snapped in two. He felt this beast rise up in him, morphing him, changing him into the killing machine he was about to unleash on the fucker that touched his woman.

He reared his arm back and slammed the brass knuckles into the guy’s face. This sickening sound filled the room, and satisfaction continued to fill Yvgeny. He slammed his fist into the man over and over again, seeing blood splatter out of the body and land on the floor and Yvgeny’s clothes. He didn’t care if he was soaked in it, and in fact wanted that grisly proof of what he’d done covering every part of him.

He continued to slam his fist into the prick’s body over and over, grunts leaving Yvgeny, blood dripping from the man to cover the ground, pooling at his feet.

When Gregor and Ivan were fully holding the fucker up, Yvgeny took a step back. “Lift his head,” he ground out. Ivan grabbed the asshole’s hair and yanked his head back. Yvgeny looked into the face of the man that had tried to take Alexa, and all Yvgeny felt was pure unadulterated rage. “You should have never even fucking looked at her.” The words were like acid out of Yvgeny’s mouth. “Now you’ll die for that and more.”

He delivered an uppercut that had the would-be-rapist’s head cocking back, the sound of bone breaking, the sight and smell of blood leaving his body, and the rush of finally ending this. Although the asshole was still breathing—barely—Yvgeny took a step back. Blood dripped off of his knuckles and the brass on his hand. He looked at Aleczander.

“Go at it,” Yvgeny said.

Aleczander wasted no time in punching, kicking, and mutilating the man that had hurt two innocent women.

Yvgeny didn’t know how long had passed, but the motherfucker was dead on the ground, the concrete covered in blood, the air thick, heated, filled with violence. Yvgeny breathed hard, looking at the carnage all around him.

Yvgeny told Gregor and Ivan to get rid of the trash and leave. He needed to get back to Alexa, to make sure she knew she was safe and that no one would ever hurt her again.


Pain like nothing Alexa had ever felt encompassed her. She slowly opened her eyes, realized she was in Yvgeny’s room, and remembered everything that had happened last night.

A wave of nausea slammed into her, and she got up, regretting the sudden movement, and ran toward the bathroom. Fortunately, the bathroom was attached to the room and easily found.

She barely made it to the toilet and threw open the lid before whatever was in her stomach lurched out. Once the dry heaves stilled, she breathed out and wiped the tears that throwing up had caused. When she started to feel sick again, she leaned over, but felt someone take hold of her hair, keeping it out of the way.

Tags: Jenika Snow The Bratva Crime
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