The episode had lasted no more than a few seconds, but in that time, a monster had been awakened within Alexander Glazov, and it would not be satisfied until blood was spilled and vengeance was paid. Up until that moment, Glazov had started to believe that the madman that lurked deep within him was -- although far from tamed -- sated, having long ago been satisfied with the chaos and catastrophes he had wrought in his youth. Not so. In an instant, the beast within him came roaring to malevolent life, seething with a bloodlust that nearly turned his vision red and had his fingers biting into his wife's side as he held her firmly beneath him.
Glazov ran a hand urgently over his wife's beloved form, checking for wounds, searching for even a single drop of precious blood. Satisfied that she was unharmed, he helped her to her feet and pulled her close, pressing her face into his neck and murmuring reassuring words into her ear. He locked eyes with Novak over her shoulder, a lethal awareness passing between them. Novak's lip curled into a snarl as, with a curt nod to his cousin, he stormed out of the ballroom, flanked by a contingent of Bratva guards.
Against his will, Glazov was being drawn inexorably back into the cloak of dark, merciless violence he had tried so hard to shed. But it was a familiar darkness that welcomed him into its embrace. And, despite his good intentions to the contrary, it was all he knew. All he had ever known.
As his children gathered, unharmed, around him awaiting instructions, the day's celebrations were all but forgotten. His gaze roamed from face to face with a father's relief. His ever-expanding family was together. Present and accounted for. Unharmed. Born Bratva and prepared to die for it.
So be it. Let the games begin.
For the first time in Kathleen's life, she felt like she could pull the trigger on whomever was responsible for the attempt on her husband's life. There had always been an unspoken rule of war, that wives and children were off limits. Clearly the party responsible for this had no idea what respect and tradition were all about. They had crossed a line and now all bets were off.
She had seen it in her husband's demeanor the last few days. The storm in his eyes and the creases of worry on his face gave testimony to his premonition of danger. She had learned over the years to pay attention to the vibes he gave off. He had an uncanny ability to foresee the storms on the horizon.
She was impressed with the way the bodyguards handled the chaos that defined the aftermath of the shooting. Years of Bratva training were obvious in the way they assessed the situation and gained control over the madness and mayhem in the room. On Novak's command, there was a quick damage assessment and an immediate lockdown. Two guards had been injured, but they would recover.
Who could have done this? They had been so careful to keep the guest list limited to family and close friends. There had been no public announcement of the wedding. Mobsters were notorious for shooting up weddings -- large gatherings were considered a target-rich environment.
She had hoped there wouldn't be bloodshed this soon. Maybe that's what their enemies were counting on-catching them off guard. She was certain they hadn't factored in what this incident was going to do to her husband. This was going to rouse the blood lust that had lay dormant within him for many years. There would be no caging the beast now.
The true, brutal nature of the Pakhan would be revealed anew. Whoever was responsible would pay with their life – but they would endure hours of crippling torture, the likes of which they could never have imagined, before death finally came for them.
Her husband was a sadist at heart. He would enjoy the hunt, the capture, the interrogation, and the ultimate destruction of whomever was stupid enough to try and pull off this assassination attempt.
To say she was pissed was an understatement. To come after her husband was bad enough but to come after her children was unacceptable. For the first time, she wanted to be there to see her enemy meet their bloody fate at her husband's hands. She had never asked that of him, had always been horrified at the thought. But not now. Kathleen wanted to see it, wanted to see her mate in his true form, all muscle and sinew and bloody hands. And afterwards, she wanted those hands all over her.
Little did their enemy know, he had awakened a beast every bit as dangerous as her husband-maybe more so. He had pissed off a Bratva mother and that wasn't a smart thing to do.
Chapter Three