Broken God: A Dark Bratva Academy Romance by Jagger Cole

Author:Jagger Cole [Cole, Jagger]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2022-02-23T16:00:00+00:00

18

“Is it true, zaychik!?”

I wince. The ramifications and the ripples of moving in with Konstantin were going to be felt. So, of course Grigori knows.

Part of me is pissed, wondering if my sister specifically told him to get him on my case and try and lean on me to change my mind.

As if I can.

And if you could, would you?

I stiffen at the voice in my head. Of course I would. Right? Without the threat hanging over me, and over those I love, there’s no way I’d live in this house with him.

And let him undress me.

And let him touch me.

And let him make me come.

My face burns hotly. My body sizzles.

Let him are the two key words there. And that’s not confusion or some sort of victim rewriting of history. That’s just the brutal, forbidden truth.

I let him.

I want to rebel against the thought. I want to bury it. For once, I want to forget something.

But I know it’s true. I let him. Willingly. Wantonly. And the feel of his hands on me, and his fingers… they’re still there.

Constantly.

Throbbing against my skin.

“You moved into house with—”

“Yes, yes….” I sigh. “Yeah, I did. It’s true.”

He groans. “But why?! His family—”

He stops himself, breathing heavily. But my mind flashes back to what my mother postured; that it was the Reznikov Bratva—Konstantin’s organization—that was responsible for the shooting.

I tremble, almost afraid to ask. But I have to. My mother’s drunk theories are one thing. If Grigori is going there too…

“Were the Reznikov’s behind the shooting that day?”

He’s silent.

“Grigori—”

“When your father and Antin Reznikov made peace, we were told not to talk about such—”

“My father is dead.”

He draws a slow breath. “Da, he is.”

“So?”

“Zaychik, it was a complex—”

“Please answer the question,” I whisper.

He blows out a thin stream of air into the phone.

“I think, yes.”

My heart skips a beat as I stagger back. I falter, and then finally sit on the edge of my bed—the bed in the room, in the house I’m living in, with the king of the very organization who put a bullet across the back of my head four years ago.

“Mara?”

“Do you think, or you know?” I croak.

He sighs. “I think. I think strongly, yes.”

I swallow, feeling the walls hum around me. Feeling my pulse throb in my neck.

“Mara, this is why I’m concerned about you in that house with him. His family, and your family—the blood is bad there.”

I shiver.

But, for some reason, I think of my sister, and her husband. There was also bad blood there—between our father and Lukas. Horrible, vile blood. And yet, the past is the past.

Dead and buried.

“But the man who had bad blood with my family is dead. Konstantin killed—”

“His own father, little Mara,” Grigori growls. “That speaks a lot about a man.”

“Or it speaks a lot about the man whose own son had him killed,” I posture back.

Grigori grumbles something.

“I can’t allow this, Mara,” he says softly.

I sigh. I know he’s just being protective. I know they all are just being protective—him, Lizbet, Lukas.

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