16. Lacey
16
LACEY
The gunshot impacts the window beside me with a deafening crack. My heart lurches into my throat as glass spiders but doesn't break.
Yet.
"Get down!" Vadim roars, jamming the accelerator. The SUV surges forward with a violent lurch that throws me into my seat.
Another shot rings out behind us, the back window buckles. I react on instinct, grabbing Dad and pulling him down with me. The leather seats creak as we huddle together on the floorboard.
"Laura!" Dad cries out in confusion, his voice trembling. "Laura, where are you?"
My chest constricts at hearing Mom's name. Hot tears spill down my cheeks as I hold him tighter, trying to protect him from the chaos erupting around us. "It's okay, Dad. I'm here. I've got you," I choke out, but he keeps calling for her.
"Laura! Laura!" His desperate pleas pierce straight through my heart. Even now, years after her death, he still reaches for her first in moments of fear. I squeeze my eyes shut, feeling utterly helpless as tears stream down my face.
The SUV swerves hard, tires squealing. Through my blurred vision, I see Vadim's white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel as he weaves through traffic. Freddy whimpers from the front seat, and for once I don't blame him—I'm terrified too.
But it's Dad's continued calls for Mom that break me completely. Each desperate "Laura!" rips open old wounds, reminding me of everything we've lost. I press my face against his shoulder, my tears soaking into his shirt as I try to comfort him the only way I can—by holding him close while our world explodes into chaos once again.
The car lurches onto the highway entrance ramp, tires screeching as Vadim takes the turn at breakneck speed. My heart pounds against my ribs as I scan the road behind us, but no more shots follow. The immediate danger seems to have passed, at least for now.
"You can sit up now, Dad," I whisper, helping him back onto the seat. His hand finds mine and grips it with surprising strength. The familiar warmth of his palm against mine provides a small measure of comfort amid the chaos.
"Holy fuck, holy fuck, holy FUCK!" Freddy's voice rises hysterically from the front seat. "They're trying to fucking kill us!"
"Shut up and keep watch," Vadim snaps, his eyes never leaving the road as he weaves between cars at terrifying speeds. "Tell me if you see any vehicles following us."
I turn to Dad, hoping to see some spark of recognition in his eyes. For just a moment, I think I catch a glimpse of awareness, like he might say my name. My breath catches in my throat as I wait.
But his lower lip just trembles, and his gaze remains distant and confused as he stares through me. I know that look—he's searching for Mom again, trying to find Laura the way he always does when he's scared or upset.
The familiar ache blooms in my chest and all I can do is squeeze his hand gently.
The highway stretches ahead of us, other cars becoming blurs as Vadim pushes the SUV faster. Despite the lingering fear coursing through my veins, I focus on Dad's hand in mine, on being the anchor he needs.
The familiar gates of Pankration rise before us as we pull up to the entrance. My nerves are still jangled from the shooting, but at least we made it. Dad's hand remains firmly clasped in mine, anchoring me to the present despite my racing thoughts.
As we enter the grand foyer, I spot Megan immediately. She springs up from where she's sitting with Demyon, her face lighting up at the sight of us. Before I can even say hello, she wraps both Dad and me in a tight embrace.
"Oh my God, are you okay? When Demyon told me that you guys went to get Dad, I thought—" She pulls back, checking us over with worried eyes.
"We're fine," I assure her, though my voice shakes slightly. "They took a couple of shots at us, but the windows were bulletproof."
That's when Freddy stumbles in behind us, and Megan's whole demeanor changes. She stiffens, her warm expression turning to ice as she stares at him.
"What the hell is he doing here?" she demands, stepping protectively closer to Dad.
Freddy's lip curls. "Could ask you the same thing."
But whatever bravado he's trying to project dies instantly when Demyon rises to stand behind Megan, his massive frame casting a shadow over Freddy. I watch him shrink back, his confidence evaporating as Demyon glares at him with a murderous glint in his eye, as if waiting for Freddy to give him an excuse.
"I-I mean..." Freddy stammers, backing away until he hits the wall. "Never mind."
The tension is thick enough to cut with a knife. Dad's grip on my hand tightens, and I can feel him trembling slightly. Whether from fear or confusion, I'm not sure. Probably both.
Vadim steps into the foyer, and his commanding presence immediately fills the space.
"Lenka," he calls out. She appears almost instantly. "Please show Mr. Huang and his son to their rooms."
As Lenka approaches, Megan squeezes my hand. "I'll go with Dad," she says softly. "Help him get settled. I'm sure the three of you have a lot to talk about."
I watch as she follows them up the grand staircase, my heart aching at how lost Dad looks. Demyon's gaze lingers on Megan's retreating form before he turns back to us, his expression serious.
"What's going on?" he asks, directing the question at Vadim. "You just told me to bring the sister here, nothing else."
Vadim's jaw tightens. "Sayanaa sent us a letter this morning." His hand finds the small of my back, protective and steady. "She knows about the pregnancy."
My hand instinctively moves to my still-flat belly. The memory of that bullet in the envelope, and the way the glass next to my head spidered from another bullet's impact makes me shudder.
"She made it clear that she intends to target our child." Vadim's voice hardens.
I do love the challenge of hitting a small target.
"Which means she's been watching Pankration," I add, my voice barely above a whisper. "She must have seen Dr. Chen's visit. And if she's been watching, she's seen Megan coming and going. It was only a matter of time before she found Dad and Freddy too."
Demyon's expression darkens as understanding dawns. "So bringing them here is the only way to keep them safe."
"Yes," Vadim confirms. "And after our car got shot up, it's clear that Sayanaa, Kirsan, and Olga are already moving against us."
I hug Vadim's arm and lean into him, drawing strength from his presence while trying to push away the terror of what could have happened if those windows hadn't been bulletproof.
Of what still might happen if we're not careful enough.
Demyon's jaw clenches as he processes everything. "I'll get the men together, make sure we're fully staffed." He glances between Vadim and me. "And I'll see if any of them might've been tempted to switch sides. We can't be too careful. Not now."
"Good," Vadim says. "Check the newer recruits first."
As Demyon strides away, Vadim turns to me. His strong arms wrap around me, pulling me tight against his chest. The familiar scent of his cologne mingles with the scent of adrenaline lingering on his skin, and I breathe it in deeply, letting it ground me.
"Are you alright, zvyozdochka ?" His voice rumbles through his chest against my cheek.
I press closer, my fingers curling into the soft fabric of his shirt. "I think so," I whisper honestly. The events of the day crash over me—the letter, the bullet, the shooting, Dad calling for Mom...
My body starts trembling. "She was aiming right at my head, Vadim. If those windows hadn't been bulletproof..."
His arms tighten around me protectively. One hand slides up to cradle the back of my head, fingers threading through my hair. "Don't think about the what-ifs. The important thing is that you're safe. You and our baby."
I nod against his chest, but my hands are still shaking. "Dad kept calling for Mom. He was so scared, and all he wanted was her, and I couldn't..." My voice breaks.
"It's okay. You're okay," he soothes, pressing a kiss to the top of my head. "You did everything you could. You protected him. That's what matters."
His steady heartbeat under my ear helps calm my racing pulse. I focus on matching my breathing to his, letting his strength flow into me through our embrace.
"Are you sure you're alright?" he asks again, and this time his hand drifts down to rest protectively over my stomach.
"I'm alright now," I whisper, looking up into his storm-gray eyes. "Really."
His mouth claims mine with fierce intensity, and I melt into the kiss. There's a desperate edge to the way his lips move against mine, how his fingers dig into my hips and pull me closer. I recognize this need—it's the same raw hunger that consumed us after my kidnapping.
The primal urge to feel alive, to prove we survived.
My hands slide up his chest to grip his shoulders as his tongue sweeps into my mouth. The familiar taste of him mixed with lingering adrenaline makes my head spin. His heart pounds against my palm, matching the frantic rhythm of my own.
We got lucky today. So incredibly lucky. If Vadim hadn't insisted on the bulletproof windows... if Sayanaa's aim had been slightly different... if we'd been in any other vehicle...
A soft clearing of throat breaks through our desperate embrace. We spring apart, and I spot Lenka standing there with an apologetic but knowing look.
"Both Mr. Huang and his son have been settled in their rooms," Lenka says, her expression carefully neutral. "Megan is with your father now."
"Thank you, Lenka." I take a steadying breath. "Which room did you put Freddy in?"
"The east wing, second floor." She replies.
I nod, grateful for her thoughtfulness. "I need to go talk to him."
Vadim's hand tightens on my waist. "Not alone."
"I'll be fine." I turn to face him, placing my palm against his chest. "He may be an asshole, but he's still my brother. And after what happened in the car..." I trail off, remembering Freddy's terrified screams. "He needs to understand what's really going on."
" Zvyozdochka ..." His jaw clenches. "He tried to hit you earlier?—"
"You'll be able to hear me scream if he tries anything," I say, attempting to lighten the mood. "The acoustics in this place are incredible."
He doesn't smile. If anything, his expression darkens further.
"I'm kidding," I say softly, rising on my tiptoes to press a quick kiss to his lips. "I'll be alright. Promise."
His thumb traces my cheekbone, storm-gray eyes searching mine. Finally, he sighs. "Ten minutes. Then I'm coming to check on you."
"Fifteen," I counter, earning the ghost of a smile.
"Twelve," he compromises, kissing me one more time before releasing me.
I squeeze his hand, then turn toward the east wing. As I climb the stairs, I can feel his gaze following me, protective and intense. Part of me wants to turn back, to let him handle this conversation with Freddy. But this is something I need to do myself.
I knock on Freddy's door, waiting for a response. When none comes, I push it open and freeze at the familiar sight—Freddy with his hands in the dresser drawers, rifling through them like he's done countless times at Dad's house.
"Really? This is the first thing you do?" I shake my head in disgust. "Look for something to steal?"
He whirls around, eyes narrowing. "What do you care? Your husband probably wouldn't even notice anything missing." He gestures at the opulent room. "Speaking of which, where'd you get Mom's necklace back from? Did he buy it for you?"
"I'm not doing this with you," I say firmly. "You're here as a guest under Vadim's protection. But that protection can be taken away if you don't behave."
Freddy barks out a harsh laugh. "Protection? Is that what you think this is?" He stalks toward me, jabbing a finger in my direction. "You stupid little girl. Do you have any idea who these Russians really are?"
"How do you know they're Russian?"
"Oh, this is rich." He sneers, spreading his arms wide. "Your criminal husband hasn't told you everything, has he? Makes sense. The bratva probably don't share secrets with their whores."
I ignore Freddy's attempt to hurt me with his words, but the way he spits them out cuts at me hard.
After all these years, I should be immune to them.
But he always has a way to make them hurt.
"I'm trying to protect you," I say instead.
He throws his head back and laughs, the sound harsh and mocking. "Protect me? If you really think that's what this is, you're dumber than you look."
His gaze fixes on Mom’s necklace. "Take that off."
"No."
"That necklace belonged to my Mom," he snarls, stepping closer. "It doesn't belong on a worthless orphan pretending to be her daughter."
Something inside me snaps. All the years of his cruelty, of making me feel like I don't belong, of stealing from our father—it all comes pouring out.
"How dare you?" I advance on him, and for the first time, I see him take a step back. "You want to talk about belonging? Where were you when Dad needed his medication? When he needed clean clothes? When he needed someone to make sure he ate?" My voice rises with each question. "I was there. Every single day. While you were gambling away everything the two of them worked so hard to build for our family."
My hands are shaking but I don't care. "You want to know why I have this necklace? Because my husband actually cared enough to track it down after you pawned it. The same necklace that Mom wanted to pass down to her daughters. The same Mom who made sure I knew I belonged, even when you tried your hardest to convince me I didn't."
"You have no right to talk about belonging when you've done nothing but steal from this family," I continue, advancing on Freddy as he retreats. "Where's Dad's watch? His cufflinks? The silver tea set that's been in the family for generations? Did you pawn those too, or are they sitting in some loan shark's office as collateral?"
My voice rises with each step. "And you know what the worst part is? You didn't even have the decency to admit it. You just let Dad think he was losing his mind when things kept disappearing. Do you have any idea what that did to him? To watch him doubt himself, wondering if the dementia was getting worse?"
Freddy's back hits the wall, but I'm not done. The words pour out of me like a bursting dam.
"You're pathetic. You stand there and judge me, call me names, try to make me feel like I don't belong. But what have you done to earn your place? What gives you the right to?—"
I stop mid-sentence when I notice Freddy's eyes aren't on me anymore. They're fixed on something behind me, and his face has gone pale. The sneer on his face is gone, and in its place is naked fear.
I turn around to see Vadim leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed and that dangerous half-smile playing on his lips. His eyes are fixed on Freddy with predatory intensity.
"Well?" I ask, drawing strength from Vadim's presence. "What else don't I know, Freddy? Since you seem to know so much about the bratva."
Freddy's mouth opens and closes like a fish gasping for air.
"What's wrong?" I ask. "You were so eager to put me in my place about what I am just a minute ago." I take a deliberate step back toward Vadim. "What was the phrase you used? The bratva's whore?"
The words hang in the air like smoke. Behind me, I hear Vadim's sharp intake of breath, and the room suddenly grows cold.
Freddy's face has gone from red to ghostly white.
"I-I didn't mean..." Freddy stammers, pressing himself flat against the wall as if he could somehow pass through it.
Vadim moves past me.
"What did you call my wife?" His voice is deceptively soft, almost gentle.
But I can hear the murder in his tone.
Freddy's throat bobs as he swallows hard. His eyes dart between Vadim and me, desperately begging me to call Vadim off.
"I... I didn't..." Freddy's voice cracks.
Vadim takes another step closer. "I asked you a question." His hand comes up to straighten his cuff, the motion deliberate and threatening. "And I expect an answer."
The casual way Vadim adjusts his sleeve makes my skin prickle. I've seen him do this before—this careful, measured preparation that precedes violence.
A whimper escapes Freddy's throat. The sound is pathetic, nothing like the cruel, mocking tone he used with me just moments ago. His legs give out and he slides down the wall, landing in an ungraceful heap on the floor as Vadim looms over him.
I place my hand on his arm. He turns to me, and steps back when I give my head a small shake.
"Consider this your final warning," Vadim looks back at Freddy and he takes a step back with me.
In that moment, I can see the monster that lives beneath my husband's carefully controlled exterior—the one that makes others tremble but sets my heart racing in excitement.
The one that makes me grateful he's on my side.
Because he's not just any monster.
He's my monster.