“Ah,” Budimir says approvingly, as he moves closer, “you’ve finally learned your place, nephew. On your knees in front of me.”
I snarl up at him. “The man you force on his knees will rise again, stronger and more vicious than before.”
It’s something Father used to say. Something I never paid much mind to when he was still alive.
Budimir just laughs. “If he can get up at all. Which you definitely won’t be able to do when I’m done with you.”
“So then do it,” I growl. “Kill me and be done with it.”
Budimir’s eyes flash for a moment and I detect a note of surprise. “Oh, I will,” Budimir nods. “But not just yet.”
I roll my eyes. “You always had a flare for drama, didn’t you?”
“This coming from the man who drank his weight in alcohol for months after losing his whore.”
“She was my fucking wife.”
Budimir shakes his head at me like I’m a stupid child who isn’t understanding. “I’ve had wives, Artem. Several, in fact,” he muses. “And I have not mourned for a single one. That’s something I’ve never understood about you.”
He eyes me strangely, as though he’s genuinely curious about the answer.
“I’ve never understood the attachments you’ve formed with these women. They should be merely distractions, a place to put your cock for the night. But you… you seem to care.”
“You’re right,” I nod. “You wouldn’t understand. It’s beyond your capacity.”
Annoyance zips across his eyes. There’s so much pride there that it’s a wonder I never noticed it before.
“It must have burned you,” I guess softly. “Taking orders from my father, doing his bidding, and deferring to him at every turn. Must’ve fucking chewed away at your soul every goddamn time. Is that why you did this?”
“I’ve been planning this little takeover for the last few years, yes,” Budimir agrees. “Which is right around the time I started poisoning your father.”
I freeze, my blood going cold as I repeat Budimir’s words in my head.
“What the fuck did you just say?”
“That got your attention… Hmm, yes,” Budimir nods. “I’ve been poisoning him for years now. Old bastard wouldn’t go down easy, though.”
My heartbeat thunders in my chest, loud and insistent and pumping with anger so strong that I bite down on my tongue and taste blood almost immediately.
It takes a moment to focus my attention back on Budimir.
When I do, I see red.
“You fucking bastard,” I spit. “Traitor. Coward. Murderer.”
“You really didn’t know?”
The red haze of my fury intensifies, but I can’t bring myself to respond.
There is no excuse for my inattention. I should’ve seen. I should’ve stopped it.
I should’ve saved my father.
“Of course you didn’t know,” Budimir tuts smugly. He’s obviously trying to goad me. “You were so wrapped up in your own anger, your pain, your grief, that you never saw what was right under your nose.”
I feel sick with shame, but I can’t dwell on that right now.
“Your father was a sharp man,” my uncle continues. “And he was dedicated to the Bratva. He knew I had ambitions, he knew I wasn’t always content with being his second, but he also assumed my loyalty would trump the rest.”