Gilded Tears: A Russian Mafia Romance (Kovalyov Bratva Book 2)

by Nicole Fox

  I see his proud sneer as his loyalists shoot down the men who have just betrayed him.

  Someone tries to shoot at Yahontov, or maybe they’re aiming for me, but I manage to push him out of the way.

  The two of us duck for cover, but it takes only a moment before my men are firing back with equal vigor.

  “Enough!” Budimir screams, and I can hear the suppressed rage in his voice. “Artem Kovalyov!”

  Budimir’s voice pierces through even the gunfire, but my men don’t stop shooting. I know they won’t until I give the command.

  “Get your men to stand down,” Budimir yells loudly, realizing the same thing. “Or your wife will die.”

  The rage is thick in my veins, but I give the order immediately. “Hold!”

  The moment the shooting stops, the silence feels resounding. Ominous.

  I step out from behind the pillar and watch as Budimir descends the staircase, behind at least ten of his armored soldiers.

  It doesn’t exactly project an image of strength, but I know Budimir well enough to know that he would never risk his own safety for a symbolic gesture.

  I move to the center of the room.

  Budimir halts in front of me, several feet away. My men slowly converge around me, but their guns are still cocked and ready.

  “If any of your men open fire,” Budimir says darkly, “I will slit your son’s throat and rip your wife open from throat to pussy. You understand me?”

  I don’t reply. I just stare at the motherfucker, until Budimir bares his teeth.

  “You fool,” he snarls, shaking his head. “Why didn’t you just stay dead?”

  “How could I?” I ask. “After you stole my father’s legacy and his life?”

  “Now you care about Stanislav?” Budimir asks. “You were never interested in his legacy, Artem. You were never interested in anything but yourself.”

  “That’s true of the man I used to be,” I acknowledge. “I’ve made a lot of mistakes in the past. I’m looking to correct that now.”

  “By taking back what you think is yours?” Budimir asks.

  I know what the bastard is doing. He’s stalling for time, trying to draw out the inevitable with this pointless fucking conversation.

  And I’m forced to go along with it because he has the upper hand right now.

  He has my wife.

  He has my son.

  “The Bratva is mine,” I growl at him. “And yes, I will take it back. When I do, you will be the first to die.”

  “It’s between you and me now, nephew,” he says. “You really think my men will follow you?”

  “Some will,” I reply confidently. “Some won’t. Everyone has a choice.”

  “You do, too,” Budimir offers. “And it’s a simple one. Walk away or stay and fight.”

  I grin. “You really expect me to believe that if I choose to walk away now, you’ll just let me go?”

  He shrugs. “I won’t let you go. You already know that,” he says. “But I might be convinced to spare your wife. Your son.”

  I stiffen imperceptibly. “How fucking stupid do you think I am?” I demand. “The moment I’m dead, you’ll kill my son.”

  “On the contrary,” Budimir says. “I will give him the Bratva.”

  I frown. “What?”

  “I have no children of my own,” he tells me. “Nor will I. Someone has to take the Bratva one day, and even I can’t live forever.”

  I clench and re-clench my gun. I don’t like where this is going.

  “I will raise your son, and when the time comes, I will hand over the reins to him. So you see, Artem—I am not an unreasonable man. Nor am I a petty man. Your son will one day be the next don,” Budimir concludes. “If you choose correctly.”

  I find myself pausing, taking a moment to weight the pros and cons of his offer.

  I believe that he’s serious. Budimir doesn’t have children, and he needs a successor. There’s a certain fucked-up logic to it all.

  “Well, Artem?” Budimir says. I can see the smirk playing on his lips.

  He knows that I have to consider the option. Maybe he even believes I will take him up on it.

  I glance around at my men, but their faces are impassive, unreadable.

  If I’m dead, they will be forced to pledge their fealty to Budimir.

  “Are you really considering this?”

  Kian is the one who spoke. I look towards him as he steps forward, his gun raised in anger.

  I hold up my hand, and he stops, but he’s not pleased about it. I see the same stubbornness in his face that I saw in Cillian’s for so many years. It hardens my resolve.

  I know what I came here to do.

  “You bought yourself mercenaries, Artem?” Budimir asks, mild surprise coloring his tone. “I never would have believed it.”

  “Fuck you,” Kian spits. “We’re not fucking mercenaries.”

  Budimir’s expression sours. “Hmm, I suppose not,” he replies. “No one would willingly choose Ireland for fighting men.”

  “You murdered my brother.”

  “I’ve murdered a lot of men,” Budimir replies without a shred of remorse.

  Then he stops for a moment. His eyes search Kian’s face.

  “Wait. Can this be… Cillian’s brother?” Budimir turns to me. “Well, well… You really did go groveling to the Irish,” he infers, clearly amused. “Nothing is beneath you, it seems.”

  I snap my jaw shut, realizing in this moment that I can’t possibly take Budimir’s offer, no matter how good of an offer it might be.

  My son’s life is worth everything to me.

  But what Budimir is offering Phoenix is not survival. It’s a living hell.

  My uncle is nothing more than a bully and a monster. He will mold my son in his image and keep Esme and Phoenix apart.

  It is not the life Esme wants for herself or for our child.

  It’s not the life I intend for us to have.

  “I did what I had to do,” I reply. “For my family.”

  Budimir’s eyes narrow at me but he holds his tongue just as one of his men appears at the balcony. He steps aside to let two armed guards walk forward. And between them…

  “Esme.”

  Her eyes find mine and it’s as if she’s heard my whisper. She looks scared. But there’s also a certain conviction in her posture, in her gold eyes that helps calm me.

  My queen is okay.

  But where’s Phoenix?

  That’s the first thought that pops into my head after I’ve reassured myself that Esme looks fine. Physically, at least.

  I meet her eyes again, but she looks away this time, as though she’s scared to give something away.

  “Bring her down,” Budimir commands. “I’m sure Artem wants a better last look at his wife.”

  Esme strides down the staircase with both of Budimir’s men flanking her. She walks stiffly, her back arched straight, her hands barely moving.

  The closer she gets, the more I can see the signs of struggle in her appearance. Her clothes have been torn in places, and there’s a smattering of blood splayed across her blouse.

  Worst of all, there’s a trapped look in her eyes that I hate seeing.

  Like she’s back in a cage she thought she’d left for good.

  I step forward instinctively.

  “Nuh-uh,” Budimir reprimands, shaking a finger at me. “You can look, but you can’t touch.”

  “Fuck you!” I practically yell, my rage bursting free through clenched teeth.

  “Careful now,” my uncle warns me. “Or I might stop being so nice. Do you really want to watch the life drain from your wife’s face while you stand there and watch?”

  The guards come to a stop a few feet away from Budimir. There’s about four long strides between my uncle and Esme.

  Too fucking close for my liking.

  I turn my gaze towards Budimir. “You’re the one who should be careful,” I tell him. “Because I’m going to make you pay for wh
at you’ve done.”

  He cocks his head to the side. “Does that mean you’re rejecting my offer?”

  I glance towards Kian, and then towards Esme.

  “You can take your offer and shove it up your ass, traitor.”

  Budimir clenches his jaw for a moment. His eyes churn, calculating his next move.

  He’s nervous about a full-blown battle. He doesn’t want to risk losing. Nor does he want to risk his own life in the process.

  That’s always what mattered most to him.

  “Maybe we should ask your pretty little wife for her opinion,” Budimir suggests. “Considering we’re discussing the future of her son, too.”

  Esme looks towards me with confusion, but I already know what she’s going to say.

  I know my wife. This is just another one of Budimir’s mind games.

  “Go ahead,” I say with a shrug. “Ask her.”

  “Are you so sure of her response?”

  “I don’t have a single doubt.”

  Budimir’s smile is less convincing this time. He looks towards Esme. She freezes instinctively, her body cringing back as she’s forced to meet his eye.

  “I’ve given your husband two choices,” he tells her amicably. “He’s overpowered, in men and in strength, but I’ve decided to be generous.”

  She doesn’t move a muscle.

  Budimir continues, “His choice is simple: give up his claim to the Bratva and surrender his son to my custody. I will raise the boy myself, give him all the perks and luxuries of a don’s son and when the time comes, he will take over the mantel of don.”

  It strikes me that Esme listens to all of this without much of a reaction. Her eyes widen for only a moment before she seems to get a hold of herself.

  “What will happen to me?” Esme asks, after a moment’s pause.

  I hadn’t expected her to ask questions, but I wonder if she’s trying to buy time, too.

  “You will have a choice just the same,” Budimir says with a sickly-sweet smile that I don’t trust at all. “You can stay with your son on this compound as my concubine.”

  “And Artem?” she asks without blinking.

  Budimir raises his eyebrows. “Artem cannot be allowed to live,” he says calmly. “But you already know that.”

  Esme doesn’t even look at me. I see her fingers twitch.

  “What’s my other choice?” she asks.

  “Well, then, you will die,” Budimir says matter-of-factly. “Just like your husband will die and your son will die.”

  She glances in my direction but she’s still not looking me in the eye. It’s starting to make me feel strange.

  Why the fuck is she not looking at me?

  “Artem,” Esme says to me. But she’s still looking square at Budimir. “Phoenix is my son, too. I should get to decide.”

  Fear wraps itself around my chest. “You can’t trust him. Fighting him is our only way out of this.”

  “If he wins, we all die,” Esme says. “Including Phoenix.”

  “See, Artem?” Budimir smiles at me. “Even your woman can see that’s there’s only one viable path here. Sometimes fighting is not the smart choice.”

  “Esme…”

  “I can’t risk my son, Artem,” Esme says, her eyes meeting mine for the first time.

  She looks terrified, but determined. She looks like she’s made up her mind and she’s not going to back out now.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispers, moving forward.

  But she doesn’t move towards me—she moves toward Budimir.

  “Try and understand. I’ll lose you both. But this way… I can save my son.”

  “You’re making a mistake, Esme,” I say, my voice carrying across the room to her.

  I see a tear slip down her cheek. It catches the light of the chandelier and looks golden from where I stand.

  A single gilded tear.

  She shakes her head at me.

  “Let me do this, Artem,” she says. “Tell your men to put down their weapons.”

  “Esme—”

  But my words are drowned out by Budimir’s laugh. “It seems you overestimated her affection for you, dear nephew.”

  Then he glances at Esme and extends his hand out to her.

  “You’re a smart girl,” he murmurs. “And you’ve made a wise decision.”

  I stare in shock.

  Esme steps forward and puts her hand in Budimir’s.

  What the fuck is happening right now?

  I know Esme.

  The Esme I know would never choose Budimir over me.

  I meet her eyes, those beautiful honey-gold eyes that lit a flame in my chest so long ago. A flame I’ve never let die. It feels like the ending of a chapter.

  My heart aches.

  Then she moves so fast, that it takes everyone—including me—a moment to catch up.

  The hidden blade in her hand slashes through the air and into Budimir’s throat. He doesn’t see it coming until the blade has buried itself to the hilt.

  His eyes go wide in horror and shock as he realizes the mistake he’s made.

  He let Esme get too close.

  He let his guard down.

  And it cost him his life.

  That’s the price of underestimating Esme Kovalyov.

  46

  Artem

  My men take advantage of the moment and move on Budimir’s soldiers. With their boss dead, most of them give up immediately.

  The few who struggle or attempt to run are cut down immediately.

  But I’m not concerned with anyone but Esme.

  I rush towards her just as she turns to me, her gold eyes meeting mine freely now.

  “Artem,” she gasps as my arms engulf her.

  I hold her tightly for a long time. Eventually, I lean back so I can look down at her face. She’s got tears swimming in her eyes, but they don’t fall.

  “Are you okay?” I ask, aware of the way her body is shaking.

  “I… I think so,” she replies. “It’s… it’s a lot.”

  I nod. “You’re okay now,” I tell her. “You were amazing.”

  She smiles against the tears. “Did you believe me?”

  I shake my head. “Deep down, I didn’t.”

  She looks at me with a dazed expression and I know she’s still processing everything that’s happened. It’ll be years before she truly gets a grip on things.

  But we have that time now.

  “Esme,” I say gently. “Where’s Phoenix?”

  “Svetlana,” Esme answers, to my surprise.

  “What?”

  “Svetlana found me in the room I was being held,” she explains. “She’s the one who killed Eagle Tattoo and gave me the knife. I told her to take Phoenix and keep him safe.”

  She’s talking fast and erratically, but I don’t press her for more information. I’m content with the knowledge that Phoenix is safe.

  For the first time, I glance down at Budimir’s lifeless body. I feel a snarl ignite on my face at the sight of his pale, bloodless face.

  In death, he has been stripped of the power and strength he seemed to possess. He just looks like a sad old man now.

  “His death was too quick and too kind,” I whisper, mostly to myself.

  Then I feel Esme’s hand against my cheek. She forces my eyes from Budimir and back to her.

  “He’s dead,” she says. “Isn’t that enough?”

  “I wanted him to suffer.”

  She flinches a little, but before she can say another word, someone clears his throat behind us.

  I turn to see Adrik.

  “Yes?”

  “We’ve got Budimir’s men rounded up,” he tells me.

  “How many?”

  “Thirty-three,” Adrik replies. “A few fled while we were standing off against each other.”

  I nod. “Take them outside,” I tell him. “You know what to do.”

  “Wait.”

  I turn to Esme, who’s looking at me with mild ho
rror. “What is he going to do?” she asks.

  I hesitate for only a moment. But I don’t want to lie to her, either.

  “They are traitors, Esme,” I tell her. “They had a choice. They could have chosen me but they stuck to Budimir. There is a cost for that.”

  “You’re going to kill thirty-three men?” she gasps.

  “I have to send a message.”

  “Yes, you do,” she agrees. “But don’t let that be your message.”

  I frown.

  “You see that man over there?” I ask, pointing to Yahontov. “He was Budimir’s man before now. But he and a few others chose to pledge their fealty to me instead. Those men will be spared. Those men will not face consequences for having chosen Budimir in the first place. But the others… there is a price that must be paid.”

  “You can’t do it, Artem.”

  “Esme—”

  “No,” she interrupts fiercely. Her eyes blaze.

  Then her face softens and she takes both my hands in hers. She glances over at the line of men that have been rounded up.

  Their faces are somber. Some are resigned to their fate. Most have been a part of this world long enough to know what they’re facing.

  “I understand now that violence is always going to be a part of this world,” she tells me softly. “I understand that sometimes… it’s necessary. I’ve accepted that. But I can’t accept unnecessary violence. Unnecessary death.”

  I say nothing. She takes a deep breath and continues.

  “Exile these men if you have to. Banish them, punish them. But don’t kill them. There’s no need for it anymore. Their leader is gone, killing them now would just be cruel and pointless. It’s a cruel and pointless world, Artem. You don’t need to make it more that way. That’s what my father did. That’s what my uncle did. You’re better than both of them.”

  I stare down at her earnest face, surprised by how much her words are resonating with me.

  I am the don now.

  I have the power to change my world as I see fit.

  To be a better leader than the men who came before me.

  And I owe that to the world. To my men. To my family.

  I turn to Adrik, who’s looking at me with raised eyebrows, waiting for my command.

  I let go of Esme’s hands and walk over to the marked men who were short-sighted enough to have chosen my uncle.