The Debt (Sordid Debt Duet #1)

Chapter Fourteen

Jarek

One month later, Norfolk Southern-Inman Rail Yard, Marietta Road, Atlanta…

The graveyard of forgotten trains stretched into the darkness. Moonlight glinted off rust-eaten metal, casting shadows between the hulking carcasses of abandoned railcars. Weeds pushed through cracked concrete, and the air held the metallic tang of oxidized steel. The only sounds were distant yard operations and the occasional screech of wheels on rails.

Lucky Dead-Eye Holden led the way through the maze of decay. His muscled frame moved with surprising lightness. At just under six feet, the former Marine carried himself with military precision. A long scar traced his left cheek—a souvenir from his last deployment before he left the military.

“Petrov is eagerly awaiting your presence in the shack, Boss.” Lucky gestured toward a dilapidated structure at the edge of the yard where light leaked through its warped boards.

“Is he lucid?” Jarek’s mouth curved with amusement as he asked the question. Lucky took his enforcer role with cinematic seriousness—a trait that both entertained and exasperated Jarek. The man had watched The Godfather one too many times.

“Coherent enough to answer questions.” Lucky checked his weapon—a habit he retained from his combat days. “I had to remind him about respect, though.”

Jarek studied his bodyguard. A veteran suffering from PTSD, who was thrown to the sidewalk by an uncaring government, turned him into the man he was today. Lucky’s brutal streak made him perfect for certain tasks, but it required careful management. The man would fit right in with Polovskaya’s thugs if not for his fierce loyalty to Jarek and the Somerville crew.

“Remember, he’s an end to a means. I don’t need a corpse,” Jarek said.

Lucky nodded, but disappointment flickered across his face. “Whatever you say, Boss. But just so you know, when I found him at that bar, he was running his mouth off about Miss Polov.”

Jarek’s expression hardened. He had spent the last month wooing Tatiana. He knew he had achieved what he had set out to do. She had fallen in love with him, which she had confirmed last night in a whispered declaration when she thought he was asleep. Everything was falling into place… except for one aspect. Gregor Polov was still adamant that she had to marry Petrov. Jarek was removing that hindrance tonight.

“Was he now?” He snickered at the prospect of meeting the man Polov deemed good enough for his granddaughter. “I guess it’s high time someone changes his confidence about a blissful future with Miss Polov.”

The door creaked as Jarek pushed it open and stepped into the shack. The air reeked of fear and rotten wood. A single bulb swung overhead, casting uneven light across splintered walls.

Barto Petrov slumped in a metal chair. Zip ties binding his wrists and ankles rendered him helpless. Blood trickled from his nose, and his left eye was swollen shut. His expensive suit—now wrinkled and stained—marked him as a man of means and power in the city or, to be more specific, of the rotten underworld of Atlanta.

Barto Petrov’s lean frame turned rigid with defiance when he noticed Jarek entering. Despite his bloodied face and restraints, power radiated from him.

“Who the fuck are you?” Petrov’s voice echoed with the confidence of a man used to being obeyed. “Do you know who I am?”

“A drug lord who hides behind legitimate business.” Jarek circled him slowly, his prosthetic mask and aged appearance concealing his true identity. “Although I have to admit, you’re a much older fart face than I envisioned. One who apparently has the power to force Polov to marry off his granddaughter for your benefit.”

Petrov’s jaw clenched. “You know fuckall.”

“To the contrary, I know everything.” Jarek stopped behind him. “Including how you plan to use TAP United Logistics for your drug distribution.”

“You’re making dangerous accusations.” Petrov twisted in his chair, trying to track Jarek’s movement. “Gregor will—”

“Gregor Polov doesn’t concern me.” Jarek completed his circle, facing Petrov. “But you should be concerned about me.”

“And who the fuck exactly are you?”

“They call me The Dark One.”

The color drained from Petrov’s face, and his cocky demeanor cracked. “That’s impossible. The Dark One operates in Boston.”

“My reach extends wherever necessary.” Jarek leaned closer. “Now tell me, what hold do you have over Polov that he would sacrifice his granddaughter to you?”

Petrov's throat worked. The Somerville Irish Gang’s reputation for enforcing criminal codes was legendary. “We have history.”

“Enlighten me.”

“Some debts can’t be measured in money.” Petrov licked his lips. “Some secrets can’t be buried deep enough.”

Jarek’s silence stretched, and the air turned heavy with the quiet threat it represented.

“Gregor helped me escape the Soviet Union,” Petrov finally broke. “But not before I helped him eliminate certain... obstacles. Including his own brother five years ago.”

“Family loyalty clearly means nothing to either of you.” Jarek’s voice carried winter’s chill. “Which makes your marital aspirations with Ms. Polov particularly offensive.”

Petrov’s jaw flexed. “Fuck off, Dark One. This has nothing to do with you. Besides, Polov already promised her hand to me.”

“Strange. I wouldn’t think it was his hand to promise.” He shrugged. “Word is she hasn’t offered her hand to anyone.” Jarek’s aged prosthetic mask creased as he smiled. “You least of all.”

“She will abide by her grandfather’s will.” Sweat beaded on Petrov’s balding head.

“She won’t be forced to abide by anyone.” Jarek’s voice dropped lower. “You’re going to ensure that.”

“Stop talking in riddles.” Petrov yanked against the zip ties but stopped as the plastic cut into his wrists. “And fucking untie me!”

The sharp snick of Lucky’s switchblade cut through the air. Petrov’s head snapped toward the sound. His pupils dilated as he noticed the length of the blade. His breathing quickened when Lucky moved behind him.

“Let me spell it out.” Jarek remained motionless as Lucky circled to Petrov’s right side. “You will withdraw your demand to marry Polov’s granddaughter.”

“Like hell. I need her fleet.” Petrov’s bravado cracked as Lucky pressed his hand flat against the chair arm. His voice sounded thin and cracked with a twinge of fear. “You better let me go unharmed, Dark One, or every crew in this region will—”

“You need to show some respect and definitely require an incentive to listen when I talk.” Jarek nodded once.

Lucky’s blade caught the swinging light. Petrov thrashed against his bonds, the tendons in his neck standing out as he watched the knife descend. His scream echoed off the walls as the blade cut through skin and bone. Blood sprayed across weathered wood and splattered red stains across his white shirt. Petrov’s severed thumb hit the dirt floor with a soft thud.

Jarek watched impassively as Petrov’s scream dissolved into ragged sobs. Blood pulsed from the wound in steady spurts.

“Now.” Jarek’s voice remained conversational. “Shall we discuss your future plans?”

Petrov stared at his maimed hand. His face had turned a shade of gray with shock. “You’re… f-fucking insane.”

“No.” Jarek leaned closer. “I’m determined. The next finger comes off if you don’t start making better choices.”

Lucky’s blade caught the swinging light. The sharp edge was a vow of more pain. Petrov flinched, and a pitiful whimper echoed through the musty shack.

“If I walk away, I need compensation.” Blood continued to drip from his mutilated hand. A dark pool formed on the floor. “The Cuban cartel expects to move their shipments through Atlanta. Without Tatiana’s transport fleet for cross-border routes, I’m a dead man walking.”

“You’re under a misconception, Petrov. This isn’t a negotiation.” Disgust dripped from Jarek’s words. “Your comfort in the drug trade isn’t my concern.”

“This was Polov’s idea. Tatiana’s trucks are the perfect cover.” A cruel smile twisted Petrov’s bloodied face. “She won’t even need to agree. Once we’re married, everything becomes mine. Her company, her assets, and her fleet. That’s how marriage works.”

The casual way he spoke of belittling Tatiana’s life’s work made Jarek’s blood boil. His fingers curled into fists as rage built at both Petrov’s entitlement and Polov’s willingness to sacrifice his granddaughter’s future. The old man’s betrayal of his own blood for profit twisted Jarek’s gut. That he himself intended to usurp her life didn’t factor at the moment. At least he had no design to take her company from her. He might be using her as a tool to get to Polov, but he had every intention of having a normal marriage with her. Effectively, at least in his mind, her life would be better without Polov in it.

“You have a warped view of what a marriage is, and you’re severely underestimating her.” Jarek’s voice remained deadly calm despite his inner fury. “Tatiana’s not some naive heiress. She’s built her company from the ground up and will have legal measures in place to protect her assets. No forced marriage will give you control.”

“Legal protections mean nothing once she’s my wife.” Petrov spat blood. “Polov knows how to make her comply.”

Lucky's knife flicked open again. The sound reverberated like a death knell.

“No! Wait!” The metal chair scraped concrete as Petrov tried to escape Lucky’s approach. “I’ll do what you want. I’ll withdraw. I’ll walk away!”

“Wise choice.” Walking closer, Jarek fished out Petrov’s phone from his pocket. “Since I am not the kind of man who trusts easily, we’ll just do this now.” He opened the contact list and scrolled down to Polov’s number. His eyes gleamed as he looked at Petrov. “Don’t be stupid, Petrov. One wrong word about my involvement, ever , and Lucky gets creative with that knife.”

“This isn’t the kind of thing men like us do over the phone. It needs to be a face-to-face meeting.” Sweat poured down Petrov’s ashen face. “Polov won’t accept—”

“Not negotiable. You will inform Polov you are no longer interested in marrying Tatiana. Furthermore, you will convince him that your Cuban associates are forcing your hand to end your alliance with the Polovskaya Bratva and form a coalition with them.”

“You’re fucking insane!” Terror widened Petrov’s eyes as he realized his impossible position. “Polov will kill me for breaking our alliance. He makes millions through our partnership. The Bratva doesn’t forgive betrayal.”

“Then I suggest you become very convincing.” Jarek’s eyes darkened. “Consider your options carefully. Polov’s anger or Lucky’s inventiveness with that blade. Since Polov owes you, it’s the one you might just survive. The other…” He let the threat hang.

Petrov’s chest heaved with panicked breaths. He was trapped between The Dark One’s immediate violence and Polov’s eventual retribution. His eyes darted between his severed thumb in the dirt and Lucky’s blade, weighing which fate he feared more.

“Time to make the call,” Jarek said. “And remember, if Polov ever learns of my involvement, today’s lesson will seem merciful in comparison.”

“This is going to be the end of me,” Petrov wailed as Jarek pressed the dial button and held the phone to his ear.

Jarek’s voice darkened ominously. “Yeah, being a criminal is a risky business, isn’t it?”

Tatiana

Two days later, the luxurious estate of Gregor Polov, Berkeley Lake…

Crystal chandeliers cast golden light over the mahogany dining table. Silver platters held caviar, smoked salmon, and her grandmother’s prized borscht. The table settings sparkled with Elizabeth Polov’s treasured Fabergé collection, which she reserved for special occasions.

Tatiana stopped in the doorway as she noticed the four place settings. “I swear to God, Dedushka , if Barto Petrov walks through that door, I’m leaving.” She met Gregor’s steel-gray eyes. “I won’t marry him, and I explicitly told you why. I’m in love with another man.”

Gregor’s eyes flickered as he dabbed his lips with a silk napkin. “Sit down, Tatiana.”

“I’m not playing this fucking game tonight. I mean it, Grandpa.”

“Such disrespect. Not even a ‘Good evening, Dedushka , how are you doing?’” He clicked his tongue. “Your grandmother worked hard on this dinner. You will not insult her by leaving.”

“Don’t try to bullshit me by playing the guilt card. I’m waiting for an answer.”

Elizabeth emerged from the kitchen. She smiled at Tatiana and kissed her on the cheek. “Darling, please sit. The borscht will get cold.”

“Is he coming?” Tatiana’s fingers dug into the doorframe. “Because if he is, I am definitely leaving.”

Gregor’s silence was all the answer she needed. Her face twisted angrily. “Unbelievable.” She turned to leave. “I run a Fortune 500 company. Neither of which is some bargaining chip for your business deals.”

“Tatiana Anastasia Polov.” Her grandfather’s voice cracked like a whip. “Sit down.”

Tatiana’s heels clicked against the marble as she crossed to her usual seat. The heavy chair scraped back with more force than necessary. She smoothed her skirt as she sat down. Her jaw was tight, with the anger simmering underneath the surface.

“I’ll stay for Grandma’s sake, but my answer remains no.”

Elizabeth tsked as she gestured at Gregor to fill Tatiana’s wine glass. “You work too hard, darling girl, and you’re getting too thin.”

Gregor cleared his throat. “Barto is a good match. His connections would strengthen both families.”

“Maybe you need strengthening, but I sure as hell don’t.” Tatiana glared at Gregor. “My company posts record profits every quarter.”

“A woman needs protection in our world,” Gregor kept pushing.

“It’s 2025, Dedushka . I have security, lawyers, and enough influence to protect myself.”

Gregor shook his head, realizing he was fighting a losing battle. He looked at her with unchecked anger as he slammed his fist on the table. Crystal glasses rattled, sending ripples through the blood-red wine. His face flushed dark with rage.

“You have destroyed decades of alliances with your stubborn, childish behavior.”

“What are you talking about?” Tatiana’s spine stiffened at the sudden violence in his voice.

“You’re off the hook. Petrov had enough of begging for your hand. He withdrew his offer.” Each word dripped with venom. “Now, he’s aligned with Viktor Dragovich’s group. His precious daughter, who isn’t even thirty yet, is more sensible than you and understands her duty to family. Now, they’ll control the southern routes by summer, and we’ll be left with nothing.”

The burden that had pressed on Tatiana’s chest for months lifted. She fought to suppress the relief threatening to show on her face.

“He withdrew?”

“Don’t you dare smile.” Gregor’s hand shook as he poured himself a stiff vodka and spilled drops on the pristine tablecloth in the process. “You cost us millions. Dragovich and Petrov will dominate the market now, and I will be out of millions of dollars. All because you couldn’t do one simple thing.”

“You already have more money than you can spend in your entire lifetime, Dedushka .”

“Money is power!” The crystal decanter slammed down.

Elizabeth flinched at her husband’s bellow echoing through the room. She remained silent, clutching her pearl necklace as he continued to rage.

“Without power, we are nothing. We become prey.”

The doorbell’s chime cut through the tension like a knife. Tatiana’s eyes narrowed.

“If not Petrov, then who is at the door?” Tatiana’s stomach churned as suspicion crept in.

“Someone who had better be able to offer the family as much, if not more, than Petrov.” Gregor’s eyes glittered with cold satisfaction. “Leo, show him in.”

“I can’t believe you’re doing this.” Tatiana pushed back her chair. “Already lining up another old fart and expecting me to—” She dragged in a deep breath. “I told you I’m in love with—”

“Sit. Down.” His voice could freeze hell. “This is your own to do, Tatiana. It had better be worth it.”

Heavy footsteps echoed through the hallway. Tatiana’s fingers found her knife, gripping it like a lifeline as a tall man appeared in the doorway.

Her heart stopped mid-beat. The knife slipped from her suddenly nerveless fingers and clattered against fine china. The blood drained from her face as she stared light-headed at the last man she had expected to see.

Except, this wasn’t the same man she got to know. Gone was the kind-eyed businessman who had stolen her heart. The man before her seemed hard and cold. His dark eyes held none of the warmth that always held such power over her. In their place something ancient and dangerous lurked as he stared at her grandfather.

“Y-You?” The word barely escaped her constricted throat. Around them, the opulent dining room seemed to shrink as the air grew thick and heavy. “W-What are you doing here?”

The silence that followed felt like a tomb sealing shut.