Distrust (Smirnov Bratva Book 1) by T.L Smith

Author:T.L Smith [Smith, T.L]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: General Fiction
Published: 2016-09-20T21:00:00+00:00

Chapter 18

Kazier

Present

It’s been a month, one month and I haven’t seen her at all. I expected her to come back, tell me that what he said wasn’t real, that it was all a lie, except I haven’t seen her. So it’s finally sinking in, and I’ve been slack, off my game. I even got Viktor stabbed because my mind was elsewhere. It needs to stop and be back into the here and now.

I’ve been searching for her. It’s hard, especially without going straight to the Bartalotti family and smashing through their door to find her. So I stake out, just to see if I can see her. I follow cars that leave the house, but not once have I spotted her. She’s gone back to being a ghost—I wonder if she is even real. Was it all a dream? I look to my hand, the red ink that reminds me she is real. That it’s all very much real. I will find her, it’s just a matter of time.

When I walk into my father’s home, most of the people are there. Freya stands and smiles at me, her seat right next to Viktor’s, and my father’s eyes honed in on that. The meeting was called to inform Viktor of his marriage to Freya. I don’t see anyone upset about this, especially Freya who watches him closely. Viktor, well he is Viktor, and he doesn’t watch anyone. He looks around, his eyes scanning then they stare, at nothing really. It’s like he dozes off with his eyes open, except we all know he’s on his game.

I take my seat next to Viktor, my father coming to the end of the table to take his chair. Anton sits across from me, and just as he’s about to speak, the door opens and in walks Death. Dressed in all black, his heavy boots thump on the marble floor loudly with each step he takes. He takes his seat in the remaining position next to Anton. Anton nods his head to Death, and Death ignores every person at the table, head down, picking at his fingernails. I don’t know why he’s here. He hates coming to anything family, the only place we see him is when we need something dealt with or cleaned up. His father is my father’s brother, so he is blood, except he prefers to stay out of everything. He wants no involvement in anything unless it’s killing or dismembering.

“Death,” my father addresses him. Death looks up and doesn’t utter a word. “You have served us well, but now it’s time to join your cousins. You have trained others in what you do, let them have it.”

I sit there like the words he spoke didn’t just leave his mouth. He thinks he still runs everything. I guess that’s partially my fault as well, letting him have the lead to do so. Except, Death is good at what he does. As a matter of fact, he shines at what he does, so I don’t understand why my father would want to pull him away from it.

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