Chapter Eighteen
Jarek
The wedding ceremony…
Through Jarek’s eyes, the garden transformed into a sacred space as guests started filling the white chairs. His hands smoothed down his tailored black tuxedo. It was a gesture born of anticipation rather than necessity. The warm afternoon sun cast golden light through the white floral archways and created patterns dancing across the grass like nature’s blessing.
He stood under the gazebo with his shoulders straight, maintaining the composure expected of him. Deep inside, the darkness shifted, grinning with satisfaction. Declan, his best man, leaned close.
“Are you sure about this, Boss?”
“This has been the outcome I have planned for twenty years, Declan. There is no other way for the debt to be paid. Once we say I do, I have the Polovs where I want them.”
“How confident are you that she won’t just divorce you? I can’t imagine she’s the type of woman who would appreciate being used and lied to.”
“She’s not,” Jarek smirked. “I have no doubt she will do what is best for her future… and believe me, once I tell her the tale of how she became her uncle’s only heir, she won’t think twice about leaving Atlanta and playing the dutiful wife and mother.”
“So, you intend to stay married to her?” Declan scratched his beard in confusion.
“Of course. I’m going to rub Tatiana’s happiness under Polov’s nose until he chokes on it.”
“He’s not going to take this lying down, Boss.”
“Oh, I’m counting on that,” Jarek said with a wide grin of anticipation as the string quartet began playing the wedding march.
The guests rose, turning toward the first archway. A little girl appeared first, scattering white rose petals with determined concentration. Then came Rhianna, the maid of honor, who was followed by Elizabeth, elegantly dressed in pastels. The music swelled, and Tatiana appeared… on the arm of Gregor Polov.
“Oh, how sweet is the taste of vengeance,” Jarek murmured. Still, his carefully maintained composure slipped as Tatiana floated toward him in a gown of white silk that caught the light like morning dew. He breathed in deeply, and his throat tightened with guilt at the way her eyes held his, glimmering with complete trust and love.
Then he looked at Gregor, and he was reminded why he was there. The darkness inside purred as Gregor handed Tatiana’s hand to him.
“She’s my heart, Jarek. Now, I am giving her to you, trusting that you will take care of her like she is an extension of your own heart, like she has been to mine.”
“Oh, I intend to, Gregor… you never have to doubt that.”
Taking her hand, he drew her tight against his side.
“You are absolutely breathtaking, love,” he whispered, annoyed when his voice roughened as she smiled beautifully at him. The part he was playing suddenly felt like it was weighing him down, but he remained resolute. In war and vengeance, there was always collateral damage… and like Lisbet and Emma, so now was Tatiana Polov.
The officiator began the ceremony, but Jarek barely heard the words. His focus remained on Tatiana's face, on the subtle changes in her expression and the way her pulse fluttered visibly at the base of her throat. When the time came for vows, Jarek took both her hands in his. The words floating from his lips came with practiced ease.
“Tatiana.” His voice carried across the hushed garden. “I’ve spent my life believing that control meant strength, that power meant success. Then you walked into my world and showed me that real strength lies in vulnerability, and true success is finding someone who makes you want to be better.” He paused as the words ‘I love you’ threatened to strangle him. Her eyes filled with tears as she reached up to cup his cheek.
“I love you, Jarek. I’ll wait… until you’re ready.”
Her words sidelined him. For the briefest moment, he wished things were different. His expression remained unchanged as he continued.
“We will build a life together, love… in our hearts, we’ll find our home and our future.”
The rest of the ceremony was a blur until the words, “You may kiss your bride,” penetrated Jarek’s mind. The profound joy and satisfaction he had expected to feel were strangely absent but for that moment, Jarek didn’t question it as he pulled Tatiana into a loving embrace.
“My wife,” he murmured as he kissed her. A kiss that, unbeknownst to him, promised bliss and a forever after filled with love and happiness.
“My husband.” Her smile was brilliant as he lifted his head amid the applause of the guests.
Jarek was struck by the realization that for the first time since he had started this voyage of vengeance, visions of Lisbet didn’t interfere with the moment. Maybe he had been right. It wasn’t his wounds that needed healing. He had moved on from mourning his family, although their memories would forever be guarded in his heart. For today, he’d concentrate on giving his newly minted bride a wedding day and night to remember… because tomorrow… her entire dream of happily ever after would shatter.
Jarek
The next morning… The luxurious estate of Gregor Polov, Berkeley Lake…
Sunlight streamed through the dining-room windows, catching the crystal glasses and creating rainbow prisms across the white tablecloth. Laughter filled the air as Gregor, Elizabeth, and Tatiana lingered over breakfast, reliving moments from yesterday’s wedding celebration.
The peaceful morning shattered when a stranger walked in unannounced. His formidable presence commanded immediate attention. In his mid-sixties, he cut an impressive figure in black jeans and a crisp white cotton shirt. Salt-and-pepper hair brushing his collar amplified sharp eyes that missed nothing. His firm jaw spoke of unwavering determination as he studied the three people watching him.
Beneath the prosthetic mask, Jarek’s pulse beat with anticipation. Every detail had been meticulously planned. Every move he’d made, including designing the mask with a built-in voice modulator, had led to this moment, planned to play out with perfect timing.
Gregor glowered at him, and his face flushed with anger as Jarek insolently returned his look.
“Who are you? How dare you enter my house unannounced?”
“I believe you’ve been looking for me, Polov.” The words dripped with mockery from Jarek’s lips. “I thought I’d save you more time and money by dropping by and introducing myself.”
“Who the fuck are you?” Gregor’s eyes flickered with suspicion. His hands clenched into fists.
“How many people are you looking for, Polov?” A smirk played across the mask’s features. “They call me The Dark One.”
The color drained from Gregor’s face. His eyes darted around the room, the realization hitting him that Skull, his ever-present shadow, was absent. Jarek savored the mounting tension as he watched Polov’s legendary composure crack like thin ice.
“No need for concern, Polov. I’m not here to cause a bloodied scene.”
“Then what the fuck do you want?” Gregor spat the words. “Or are you here to gloat about dismantling more of my alliances?”
“Oh, there’s more than enough time for that.” Jarek’s modified voice carried across the room. “No... I am here to set your mind at ease as to why you have become my target.”
Gregor’s jaw worked as he visually struggled to keep his fury contained. Fear flickered in his eyes—the fear of a man who faced an unknown enemy.
“Elizabeth, Tatiana... leave me alone with this... this prick!”
“No, they stay.” The mask shifted as Jarek smiled, knowing how much he was going to enjoy the next few minutes. “Especially since what I have to say affects both of them as well.”
Under the mask, Jarek’s satisfaction grew. The time had come for Polov’s world to crumble.
The tension in the room crackled like static before a storm. Gregor’s face had turned an alarming shade of red as his breathing sounded heavy and irregular.
“Get to the fucking point,” he snarled in an accent thickening with rage.
Jarek moved with deliberate slowness deeper into the room. Behind the mask, his eyes remained glued to Polov’s face. He kept track of every micro-expression and every tell. Twenty years of waiting had honed his patience to a razor’s edge.
“You know, I’ve often envisioned this moment. The first time when I faced you and asked if you remember them.” The darkness that had lived inside Jarek for two decades rose like a tide, threatening to drown his carefully maintained control. His gaze briefly flickered to Tatiana. His wife. His supposed new love. The innocent caught in this web of vengeance. She sat rigid in her chair, her knuckles turning white where they gripped the edge of the table.
“Remember who?” Gregor spat out.
Jarek was fascinated by the spittle flying from his lips. Polov was unraveling faster than he had imagined he would.
“But then I realized,”—Jarek’s modified voice remained eerily calm, though violence tremored beneath each word—“a man like you who maims and kills on almost a daily basis wouldn’t recall the devastation he had caused one night twenty years ago on the streets of Atlanta.”
The room grew impossibly still. Even the morning birds seemed to have fallen silent. Elizabeth sat frozen with an unreadable glimmer in her eyes. Gregor’s expression shifted from rage to confusion with his brow furrowing as he visibly searched his memory.
“Twenty years ago…” Gregor’s voice lowered as his eyes turned distant. “That was the year the Mexicans tried to infiltrate my territory.”
“Ah, so you do remember.” Jarek turned to Tatiana. His heart unconsciously clenched at her pallor. She sat fixed like a statue with eyes wide.
Comprehension dawned. The sheltered woman was finally glimpsing the monster behind her grandfather’s mask.
“Ask him what happened that night, Tatiana.”
She flinched at the sound of her name from this stranger’s lips. Her gaze darted between Polov and him. The perfect wedding day glow had vanished and was replaced by the harsh reality of who her grandfather truly was.
“Just who is this man, Dedushka ?” She looked at Jarek but saw an older man who didn’t bother to hide the darkness that had taken over his soul. “What is he talking about? What happened twenty years ago?”
“Darling, it’s got nothing to do with you,” Elizabeth said as she took Tatiana’s hand.
“He says differently,” Tatiana shot back in a clipped voice.
Jarek was startled as he looked at Elizabeth, and for the first time, he noticed the same hard and cold look as her husband’s mirrored on her face. He had focused his hatred on Gregor, but now it seemed like his dear wife wasn’t all that innocent. Her reaction was a clear indication that she knew exactly what kind of man he was. More than that, she knew what had happened that night.
“Well,” he drawled. “Now, isn’t this interesting?”
Both Gregor and Elizabeth started at his dark retort.
“I’m waiting, Dedushka .” Tatiana’s voice shattered the tension growing in the room.
The morning sun now seemed to mock the darkness that descended over the room. Jarek’s hatred, carefully nurtured for two decades, pulsed through his veins like poison.
“We’ve wasted enough time.” His voice was heavy with the remnants of twenty years of grief and rage. “You took my wife and child from me, Polov.”
“Bullshit.” Polov’s face contorted. “I have never dealt in human trafficking.”
“You’re right.” Jarek’s modified laugh was hollow, devoid of humanity. “You didn’t sell them. You did one better. You murdered them in cold blood during your precious territorial drug war. Your bullet tore through my family like they were nothing but obstacles in your path.”
The memory ripped through him as he relived the sound of gunfire, Lisbet’s scream, and Emma’s tiny body going limp in his arms.
“The street had run red that night, but you hadn’t even broken stride.”
“Grandfather?” Tatiana's voice cracked. “What is he talking about? You promised at Uncle Nicolai’s funeral... you said you never… that you only dealt in white crime!” Her world was crumbling, each revelation another crack in her foundation.
“Come now, Tatiana.” Jarek’s contempt sliced through the air. “Such willful blindness must be exhausting. Your grandfather’s hands drip with blood. The feared Pakhan, whose very name makes men tremble. Did you really believe his empire was built on kindness?”
“He’s lying,” Elizabeth snarled, but fear had crept into her eyes. “He’s trying to justify—”
“I was there!” The mask couldn’t contain Jarek’s fury now. “I watched your husband gun them down without hesitation. It was his bullets, aimed at a cartel member ahead of us in the street, that first wounded me and then killed my wife and daughter. My wife, my child, and their blood sprayed across the pavement while he stepped over their bodies like they were discarded trash. No pause, no remorse. Just another day in the great Polov’s war.”
Elizabeth rose, her face flushed with anger. “Who are you to judge? You’re The Dark One! Your reputation—”
“My reputation?” Jarek’s laugh was razor-sharp. “I built it purely for this moment. Twenty years of preparing, waiting, and becoming the monster necessary to bring down a giant murderer… except I am so different from either of you.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “Now, I’m here to collect.”
“What the fuck are you talking about?” Polov’s composure shattered. “I’ve lost everything. You’ve already ruined my reputation and destroyed alliances. I’ve lost millions of dollars in the process. The Polovskaya Bratva is on the verge of collapsing.”
“Almost everything.” Jarek’s gaze shifted to Tatiana, watching realization dawn in her eyes. “The empire was just the beginning. You owe me more, Polov. Much more.” With deliberate slowness, he removed the wig and mask.
The gasps were symphonic. Tatiana’s hand flew to her mouth. Her diamond wedding ring caught the light in a mockery of yesterday’s joy. Her face drained of color as her world imploded.
“Yes, Polov.” Jarek’s real voice carried all the venom he had suppressed during their courtship. “You personally handed me your precious granddaughter. A wife for a wife.” His lips curved in a cruel smile. “And soon, she’ll give me a child to replace the one you stole. Your own flesh and blood, carrying the name of the man who destroyed you.”
“Jarek... what are you saying…” Tatiana’s voice cracked through the room like broken glass.
“What am I saying, my dear wife?” He kept his eyes locked on Polov, savoring the old man's devastation. “The debt must be paid. And you are the currency.”
The morning light retreated behind gathering clouds, as if nature itself recognized the darkness descending upon the Polov family. In the shadows, Jarek’s smile promised that this was only the beginning of their nightmare.
“Isn’t that poetic justice, Polov? My family was collateral damage in your war. Now I’m returning the favor, except I won’t make it as easy on you.” His eyes were glacial as he looked at Tatiana, only this time, he didn’t feel a twinge of remorse. The moment was too big, too real, and too precious to waste it on such a trivial emotion.
“It’s going to be so much fun watching you hate your own grandchild for the rest of your life because the man who fathered him brought you to your knees.”
The End…
…for now.