Page 44 of Bratva Menace

Or a prison.

Yeah. Based on what awaited me inside, prison sounded better.

“Remember what we discussed,” Father said from the front seat as the driver pulled up to the gate.

“Be my usual, dazzling self with added flair. Don’t worry, Pops, I gotchu.”

He turned, giving me an odd, perplexed look.

I flashed my teeth. “I’ve always wanted to call you that. Now seems like the perfect time, what with you wanting me to bring a little extra Lukyan to the table and all.”

“I like it,” Autumn chimed in beside me.

“You know what, I knew you would,” I said back excitedly.

“It suits you, Butcher,” Autumn added.

I punched her playfully on the shoulder. “We’re like one mind! I think so too.”

Father grunted and faced the front again. “Stop here and wind the window down, please,” he told the driver.

Visibly pale and shaking, Pedro did as instructed, stopping right next to the guard dressed in military clothing and armed with a huge-ass machine gun.

Nice.

“Eto chastnaya sobstvennost’.” This is private property.

“Otkroy vorota, Victor.” Open the gate, Viktor, Father barked out, his voice like ice. Cold. Hard. Very Boss Bitch.

Viktor bent at the waist and looked into the car.

“Dimitri, ne upolnimichena prokhodit’ cherry vorota—” Dimitri, this car is not authorized to pass the gate⁠—”

Father whipped out his gun, his arm stretched out in front of Pedro so the barrel was pointing right at Viktor’s head.

Viktor touched the radio on his vest, not taking his eyes off the gun. “Otkroy vorota.” Open the gate.

“Oooo, he’s so dead,” I sang.

Autumn looked at me. “What do you mean?”

“He should have called to ask for permission first. Grandfather will kill him for letting in an unauthorized vehicle.” I was only partly kidding. I was sure my grandfather would punish him, but I doubted it would be anything that extreme.

As the gate slowly began to open, I unbuckled my seatbelt and wedged myself between the two front seats. “Hey, Vik, think I can get one of those machine guns?”

“Drive,” Father ordered.

The car drove forward. I tsked, went back to my seat, and quickly wound down the window, sticking my head out. “I’ll hit you up later, yeah?!” I yelled out as we moved past the gatehouse. “Is it new?! What’s the model number—” Someone yanked me back into the car.

I expected to see a pair of annoyed, exasperated blue eyes staring into my goddamn soul, but all that greeted me was my father’s face, shrouded in humor.

“Keep it up.” He winked.

An evil, giddy feeling filled my body. Like he’d said on the plane, we all had our parts to play. Me, the annoying yet extremely loveable son of the grumpy, oh-so-serious Bratva Butcher.

My father, the fed up, exasperated parent, sick and tired of his child’s crazy antics.

And Autumn? Well, I hadn’t quite figured out her role yet. But she did a pretty good job at calming my father down when he was pissed off…so there was that.