CHAPTER 21
ROMAN
We pull up to the rendezvous point, deep in the woods, miles away from the main road. This is the handoff zone, a dead spot where satellite tracking goes to die.
Waiting there is a black, windowless van. I hop out of our SUV, scanning the perimeter. Behind us, a second rugged vehicle pulls in—the team we sent to scour the field for the straggler.
I walk around to the back of our car, while one of the guys guides Iris out into the cold air. "Careful," I snap, my voice sharp as one of our guys moves to grab her arm. "Don’t hurt her. Dad wants her in one piece."
The guy nods quickly, stepping back. Kirill handles her instead. He is surprisingly gentle, his hand barely grazing her elbow as he guides her toward the waiting van. She is quiet, tears streaming down her face, numb with shock. Then, the door of the second SUV opens.
"Move it!" one of the hired guns shouts, yanking a figure out from the backseat.
"Hey! You! Short stuff!" the guard barks, shoving the captive forward. "Walk slowly or I’ll shoot! And take off the hat and mask!"
The figure stumbles forward, hands raised, their body hidden beneath layers of ill-fitting fabric.
An oversized hoodie and baggy pants swallow their silhouette, while a backward cap and bandana hide their features, giving off the distinct impression of a teenage boy caught in the wrong place at the wrong time. Slowly, they pull off the cap.
Long, dark hair tumbles down. Both Kirill and I freeze near the van doors. Kirill squints, tilting his head to the side like a confused dog. "Hmmm. Try to toughen up, young man. Looking at those weak bones, it is no wonder we caught you so easily."
The figure’s head snaps up. The bandana comes down, revealing a face twisted in pure indignation.
"I’m not a man, you turd!" she spits, her voice sharp and furious. "I’m a woman! Can’t you see? I may not be the most endowed in the chest department, but I will not be insulted for my lack of ass and tits!" With that, she huffs, turning away from us to face Iris instead.
I burst out laughing. "Ahahahaha," I cackle, looking at my brother. "She called you a turd."
Kirill smirks, unbothered. "Well, sorry if we thought you were a man. With how you’re dressed, even God would mistake you for a species with a dick." He pauses, his tone dripping with mock sympathy. "And don’t worry. I hear women grow into their full selves at twenty-five."
She whips around, her face burning red. "Well, tough luck for me, because I’m thirty-one!
Why do men have to open their oral cavities just to piss me off?
I get that you’re my kidnappers and I gotta cooperate, but at least get the gender right and stop poking the bear!
" Kirill blinks, genuinely perplexed. "Wait.
So we are the bear in this situation?" She pauses, pondering for a second. "Wait, you’re right. Looking at it from a logical point, which, by the way, you can’t seem to do.
You are the bears, and I just so happen to be the victim. "
Kirill tilts his head. "Oh, good. We’re the bears. I almost thought you were delusional." I grin, stepping closer. "You don’t even come off threatening. More like a small, yapping Chihuahua that thinks it’s a Rottweiler."
She glares at me, fuming. I like her feistiness.
I grab her by the arm gently. "Come on, get in the van." She looks up at me, suspicious. "You’re being weirdly nice for a kidnapper." I smirk, opening the door for her. "Maybe I have standards."
She narrows her eyes but climbs in anyway, settling next to Iris on the bench seat. Kirill slides in on the other side, trapping them effectively between us. I take the passenger seat up front, letting one of our guys drive.
I turn to the driver and the other lackey in the back. "Listen up. No one touches them. Especially the redhead. That’s Dad’s orders. Anyone lays a hand on her, and you’ll answer to him. Got it?"
They both nod quickly, pale-faced.
"Good."
The engine roars to life, and the van pulls onto the road, the tires crunching over gravel before hitting the smooth asphalt.
For about thirty seconds, there is silence.
Then she speaks. "So," she says, looking between me and Kirill with narrowed eyes.
"Are you two twins or something? Because you look exactly the same.
Do you share a brain cell too, or does one of you do the thinking?
" Kirill stares at her, deadpan. "Do you ever stop talking? "
"Not really," she says, crossing her arms. "It’s a coping mechanism.
Keeps me from, you know, panicking about being kidnapped by two ginger psychopaths.
" I laugh, leaning back in my seat. "Ginger psychopaths? That’s a new one.
" She shrugs. "Well, you are ginger. And you are psychopaths.
So, yeah. The math checks out." Kirill leans forward, inspecting her.
"I still think you might be a man." Her mouth drops open.
"Are you kidding me right now? We literally just went through this! "
"Just making sure," Kirill says with a straight face.
"I hate you," she mutters. "The feeling is mutual," Kirill replies smoothly. I can’t stop the grin etched on my face.
This woman is entertaining as hell. Most people in this situation will probably be crying, begging, or pissing themselves.
But she is insulting her kidnappers. Iris, sitting beside her, finally speaks.
Her voice coming out hoarse, "Tessa, please. Just… don’t. "
Tessa looks at her, her expression softening instantly. She sighs. "Fine. I’ll behave. For her."
"Good," Kirill says. Silence settles again. But it doesn’t last. "So," Tessa says, leaning forward slightly. "What’s the plan here? Are you gonna torture us? Ransom us? Sell us to some creepy billionaire? Because I gotta tell you, I’m not worth much. I’m broke as hell. You’d get more money selling my kidneys.
" Kirill sighs, rubbing his temples. "Do you want me to gag you? "
"Kinky," she shots back without missing a beat. "But no thanks." I laugh again, Damn, she has guts. "You’re funny," I say, turning in my seat to look at her properly. "I like you."
"Great," she says dryly. "The kidnapper likes me. That’s exactly what I was going for."
But I mean it. I find myself watching her reflection in the rearview mirror more than I should.
Iris turns to her, speaking hoarsely again. "Tessa, stop. Please."
Tessa’s face falls. She reaches over and squeezes Iris’s hand. "It’s okay. We’re gonna be okay."
But Iris just shakes her head, tears spilling down her cheeks again. "No, we’re not. You don’t understand. They…." Her voice cracks. "They shot him. They shot Ilay. And he…he just…"
She breaks down, sobbing into her hands.
Tessa wraps an arm around her, pulling her close. "Hey, hey. It’s okay. He’s tough, right? He’ll be fine."
But even as she says it, I can see the doubt in her eyes.
Kirill leans back, arms crossed over his chest. "He’s not dead," he says flatly. "Yet."
Iris’s head snaps up, hope and horror warring in her eyes. "What?"
"We didn’t kill him," Kirill says, bored. "Just made sure he couldn’t follow. If he’s as good as they say, he’ll survive."
"If?" Iris chokes out. "If?"
Kirill shrugs. "Not our problem."
Tessa glares at him, with venom in her eyes. "You’re a real piece of work, you know that?"
"Thanks," Kirill says, unbothered.
She turns to me. "And you? You just gonna sit there and let your twin be an asshole?"
I grin. "He’s always an asshole. I’m used to it."
"Great," Tessa mutters, slumping back. "I’m stuck in a van with Tweedledee and Tweedledum."
Kirill frowns. "Who?"
"Alice in Wonderland," Tessa says, exasperated. "It’s a book. You should read it. Might teach you something about not being a sociopath."
Kirill looks genuinely confused. "Why would I read a children’s book?"
Tessa throws her hands up. "I give up."
I chuckle, turning back to the road.
The rest of the drive is quieter. Tessa throws out the occasional sarcastic comment, but even she seems to be running out of steam.
Inside, Kirill points them to a room. "You two stay here. Sleep. We’ll deal with everything tomorrow."
Iris collapses onto the bed immediately, curling into herself like a wounded animal. Tessa sits beside her, wrapping a protective arm around her shoulders.
"It’s gonna be okay," Tessa whispers, though her voice wavers for the first time.
Iris doesn't respond. Just closes her eyes, tears still streaming down her face, silently mourning the man she thinks she lost.
***
By the time we pull up to the location, the sun is setting, casting long, bloody shadows across the ground. The private hangar sits on the edge of a desolate airstrip, surrounded by nothing but dense Montana forest.
The van stop, and we cut the engine. Kirill slides the door open, the cold evening air rushing in. "Out. Now."
Iris climbs out slowly, her legs shake so badly she almost collapses. Kirill catches her arm gently guiding her out, his grip firm.
Tessa follows, glaring at us like she wants to stab us with a rusty spoon. She looks around at the tarmac, then at the sleek, black jet waiting on the runway.
"A plane?" she asks, her voice rising in panic. "Where the hell are you taking us?"
"Home," I say simply, stepping out of the passenger seat.
"Home?" She scoffs, backing away. "Unless your home is a cornfield in the middle of nowhere, I doubt that."
"Russia," Kirill corrects flatly, pulling a small, hard case from his jacket pocket.
Tessa freezes. "Russia? You can’t be serious. That’s…that’s on the other side of the world! You can’t just ship us to Russia like packages!"
"We can," I say, walking toward her. "And we are."
Kirill opens the case. Inside sit two syringes, pre-loaded with a clear liquid. The needle tips glint under the hangar lights. Tessa’s eyes widen as she spots the needles and immediately takes a step back, her hands coming up.
"Whoa. Absolutely not. No way in hell. You are not sticking that in me."
"It’s a thirty-hour trip," I say, my voice calmly. "We can’t have you screaming or fighting the whole way. This will make it easier. You go to sleep here, you wake up in Moscow. Simple."
"Simple?" She laughs, a frantic, hysterical sound.
"You think drugging me is simple? I will bite you.
I swear to God, I will bite your finger off if you come near me with that.
" I grin. "I’d like to see you try." I nod at Kirill. He moves first grabbing Iris, but she doesn’t put up much of a fight, too exhausted from grief.
She just stands there, tears silently streaming down her face, as Kirill uncaps the needle.
"Sorry, redhead," he mutters, though he doesn't sound sorry at all. He jams the needle into her upper arm. She winces, a soft gasp escaping her lips, but she doesn't pull away. Within seconds, her eyelids flutter, as her knees buckle. Kirill catches her, scooping her up into his arms like a bride.
Tessa watches her friend fall, and that snaps something inside her.
"Iris!" she screams. She turns to run, but I am faster. I lunge, wrapping an arm around her waist and hauling her back against my chest. She is small, but she fights like a wildcat, kicking, scratching, and thrashing against my hold. "Let me go! You ginger psychopath! Let me go!"
She stomps on my foot, hard. "Fuck!" I hiss, tightening my grip. "Hold still, you little menace."
"No! I’m not going to Russia! I don’t even like vodka!" she yells, clawing at my arm.
I pin her arms to her sides with one arm, using my height and weight to immobilize her. With my other hand, I take the second syringe from Kirill, who is already walking Iris toward the jet stairs.
"Relax," I murmur into her ear, my breath ghosting over her skin. "It’s just a nap. Think of it as first-class service."
"I hate you," she seethes, trashing her head back, trying to headbutt me. "I hope your plane crashes. I hope you get diarrhea on the flight. I hope…" I uncap the needle with my teeth and drive it into her shoulder. She gasps, her body stiffening. "Ow! You asshole!"
"There," I whisper, pulling the needle out and tossing it onto the tarmac. "All done."
"I’m gonna…" she slurs, her fighting slowing down instantly. Her head lolls back against my chest, her weight becoming heavy. "I’m gonna… kill… you…"
"I know," I say, brushing a stray hair out of her face.
"Get in line princess." Her eyes roll back, and she goes limp in my arms. I shift my grip, lifting her easily.
She is lighter than she looks, fragile in her baggy clothes.
For a second, I just look down at her, at the fire that has finally gone out. "Sleep tight, short stuff," I mutter.
I carry her toward the jet, following Kirill up the stairs. The engines are already humming, ready to take us halfway across the world.
We have the lawyer. We have the friend. And Ilay Ivanovich is bleeding out in a ditch in Montana.
Game over.