“You knew Vas would prey on my woman, and you said nothing to me?”
“What did you do?” Alexander said again.
“I dealt with it.” He took my hand and looked like he would pull me close, but then glanced down at himself and only squeezed it. “Why did no one warn us?”
“How did you not know?” Yuri spat. “All of us have been aware of Father’s proclivities since we were children.”
“Did you kill him?” Andrey asked, his face its usual controlled mask.
The wives whispered among themselves, their worried gazes on Ilya.
“He’s dead. One of you should have done this years ago if you knew he was using your wives against their will.” He spat on the floor.
“You really didn’t know,” Alexander mused.
“No, I didn’t.” Ilya waited, but nobody made a move. “Who will call the police?”
Everyone in the room looked to their spouses and then the brothers began whispering amongst themselves in Russian.
“No one is calling the police—at least not yet,” Alexander finally said. “Go clean the blood off yourself, and we’ll discuss this when Bron is back.”
Nodding, we left the room, Ilya’s hand firm on my lower back.