Chapter 22 - Viktor
Viktor stared at his phone for the third time in as many minutes, willing it to ring with Anka’s name on the display.
The silence in his mansion had become suffocating, every empty room a reminder of what his pursuit of revenge had cost him.
Three days since she’d walked out, three days of replaying their last conversation and understanding too late that Matvei had been right about everything.
The whiskey in his glass had gone warm hours ago, but he couldn’t bring himself to care about anything beyond the crushing weight of his own stupidity.
He’d had everything—his wife back, the truth finally revealed, a chance to build something real with the woman he’d never stopped loving.
And he’d thrown it all away for the satisfaction of watching Adrian suffer.
When his phone finally rang, Viktor’s heart lurched with desperate hope that died the moment he saw it wasn’t Anka’s number. Adrian’s name on the display made him consider ignoring the call entirely, but something about the timing felt wrong.
“What do you want?” Viktor’s voice carried exhaustion and barely contained hostility.
“Anka needs your help.” Adrian’s words were clipped, urgent in a way that made Viktor’s blood run cold. “Someone took Raya and Sofie. She’s trying to handle it alone.”
The information hit Viktor like a physical blow, instantly changing his view of the evening with brutal clarity. Anka was in danger, possibly walking into a trap, and she was facing it without backup because their marriage had become too toxic for her to trust him with her safety.
“Where is she?” Viktor was already reaching for his jacket, his keys, anything that would get him to Anka faster.
“Pier Seventeen. Warehouse district.” Adrian paused, and Viktor could hear something that might have been regret in his voice. “She called you first, Viktor. Before anyone else. That should tell you something.”
The line went dead, leaving Viktor staring at his phone with growing horror. Anka had reached out to him despite everything, had trusted him enough to ask for help when her sisters’ lives were at stake. And he’d been sitting in his study, drowning in self-pity instead of answering her call.
Viktor’s phone rang again as he was climbing into his car, and this time Anka’s name on the display made his chest constrict with relief and terror in equal measure.
“Viktor?” Her voice was tight with controlled panic, the tone of someone hanging onto composure by a thread. “I need your help.”
“I’m already on my way.” Viktor started the engine, his mind calculating routes and possibilities with the kind of focused efficiency that had kept him alive in dangerous situations. “Tell me everything.”
“Someone has Raya and Sofie. They want me to come alone to a warehouse on Pier Seventeen, and I—I tried calling Matvei and the others, but no one’s answering, and I can’t do this by myself.”
The vulnerability in her voice cut through Viktor’s chest like broken glass. This was his wife, the woman he’d promised to protect, and she was facing her worst nightmare because he’d been too consumed with revenge to be the partner she deserved.
“You’re not doing this alone,” Viktor said, his voice carrying conviction that surprised even him. “We’re going to get your sisters back, Anka. Both of them. Safe.”
There was silence on the other end of the line, and Viktor could almost hear her wrestling with whether to trust him after everything that had happened between them.
“I’m scared,” she admitted finally, the words so quiet he almost missed them.
“I know. But you’re also the strongest person I’ve ever met, and we’re going to handle this together.” Viktor turned onto the highway that would take him to the warehouse district, pushing his car faster than was probably safe. “I’m ten minutes out. Don’t do anything until I get there.”
“Viktor—” Anka’s voice caught, and he could hear the tears she was trying not to shed. “I’m sorry about how things ended between us. I know you were hurting, and I should have—”
“Don’t.” Viktor’s interruption was fierce, carrying none of the anger that had defined their recent interactions. “Don’t apologize for anything. This is my fault, all of it. I let my need for revenge poison everything good in my life, and I’m the one who should be sorry.”
By the time Viktor reached Pier Seventeen, he’d pushed every personal feeling aside in favor of the cold efficiency that had kept him alive through dozens of dangerous situations.
Anka was waiting by her car, her face pale but determined, and the sight of her made his chest constrict with emotions he couldn’t afford to process.
“Any word from your brothers?” Viktor asked as he approached, his eyes already scanning the warehouse district for signs of surveillance or ambush.
Anka shook her head, her hands clenched into fists at her sides. “Nothing. Matvei’s phone goes straight to voicemail, and Adrian said he’d handle backup, but that was hours ago.”
Viktor studied her face, noting the fear she was trying to hide beneath layers of determination and fury.
This was the woman who’d once jumped out of planes for fun, who’d built a successful career despite her family’s overprotective tendencies, who’d walked into an arranged marriage to protect the people she loved.
She was magnificent, and he’d been a fool to risk losing her for something as hollow as revenge.
“What’s the plan?” he asked, falling into step beside her as they approached the designated warehouse.
“I go in, they release my sisters, we all walk out alive.” Anka’s tone suggested she knew how inadequate the strategy was but couldn’t think of alternatives.
“That’s not a plan, that’s a suicide mission.” Viktor caught her arm, forcing her to look at him. “These people took your sisters for a reason, Anka. They’re not going to just release them because you showed up as requested.”
“Then what do you suggest?” Her voice carried a sharp edge that indicated her patience was wearing thin. “Because I’m not leaving Raya and Sofie in there while we debate strategy.”
Before Viktor could respond, his phone buzzed with a text message that made his blood run cold. The photograph showed Raya and Sofie bound and gagged in what looked like a shipping container, fear stark in their young faces.
The accompanying message was brief: Your wife for the girls. One hour.
But it was the sender’s number that made Viktor’s vision blur with rage. He’d seen it before, had made note of it during his brief and unpleasant business relationship with Nick Barresi.
“What is it?” Anka asked, apparently reading something dangerous in his expression.
“I know who’s got your sisters.” Viktor’s voice carried the kind of deadly calm that preceded violence. “Nick Barresi. He’s trying to use them to get to you, probably as revenge for what happened at my office.”
Anka stared at him for a moment, her face cycling through confusion and growing horror as she processed the implications. “This is because of us? Because of our marriage and your business deals?”
“This is because Nick Barresi is a psychopath who feeds off other people’s pain.” Viktor pulled out his phone, already scrolling through his contacts. “And because I made the mistake of thinking I could handle him without considering the collateral damage.”
“What are you doing?” Anka asked as Viktor selected Ilya’s number.
“Calling for backup. We can’t do this alone, not against Nick and whatever men he’s brought with him.
” Viktor held up a hand when Anka started to protest. “I know they said come alone, but Nick has no intention of releasing your sisters regardless of what you do. This was never about negotiation—it’s about inflicting maximum damage on everyone connected to me. ”
Ilya answered on the second ring, his voice carrying the kind of alert wariness that suggested he’d been expecting trouble. “What’s wrong?”
“Nick Barresi has Anka’s sisters. Pier Seventeen, warehouse district. I need everyone you can spare, and I need them now.”
“On our way.” Ilya’s response was immediate, no questions asked, no hesitation. “Twenty minutes.”
Viktor ended the call and turned back to Anka, who was staring at him with an expression he couldn’t quite read. “We wait for backup, then we go in and get your sisters.”
“Twenty minutes is too long.” Anka shook her head, her hands already moving toward her jacket pocket. “Nick could hurt them, could decide he’s tired of waiting. I’m going in now.”
“No.” Viktor stepped between her and the warehouse, his posture making it clear he was prepared to physically restrain her if necessary. “You’re not walking into that building until we have a plan that doesn’t end with all three of you dead.”
“They’re my sisters, Viktor. My responsibility.” Anka’s voice carried the kind of fierce protectiveness that made her dangerous when cornered. “I won’t let them suffer because of my choices.”
“Our choices,” Viktor corrected, his tone carrying conviction that surprised them both. “This is happening because of decisions we both made, conflicts we both participated in. Which means we handle it together, or we don’t handle it at all.”
For a moment, they stood facing each other in the shadow of the warehouse, years of love and pain and misunderstanding crackling between them like electricity.
Viktor could see the moment Anka made her decision; he could read in her expression the choice to trust him, despite everything that had gone wrong between them.
“What do you need me to do?” she asked finally.
Viktor felt something loosen in his chest, a tension he hadn’t realized he’d been carrying since the moment she’d walked out of his life. This wasn’t forgiveness, wasn’t a resolution to the problems that had driven them apart. But it was a partnership, and for now, that was enough.
“Stay close to me. Do exactly what I tell you when I tell you to do it. And trust that I’d rather die than let anything happen to you or your sisters.”
When Ilya arrived with Kostya and Fedya in tow, Viktor felt the familiar calm that came with having reliable backup in dangerous situations.
His brothers moved with the kind of coordinated efficiency that came from years of handling volatile situations together, and Viktor found himself grateful for family ties that transcended personal conflicts.
“What’s the situation?” Ilya asked, his eyes already surveying the warehouse for tactical advantages.
“Nick Barresi has two hostages in there, probably a half dozen men minimum.” Viktor pulled up the building schematics on his phone, information his intelligence network had compiled during their brief business relationship.
“Multiple exits, shipping containers that provide cover, and Nick’s probably expecting us to come through the front entrance. ”
“So we don’t,” Kostya said, his usual playful demeanor replaced by something colder and more focused. “Fedya and I take the loading dock, you and Ilya go through the office entrance, we coordinate the assault from multiple angles.”
“What about me?” Anka asked, her voice carrying determination that brooked no argument.
Viktor looked at her, weighing her safety against the reality that she knew her sisters better than anyone and might be crucial to getting them out alive. “You stay with me. When we find Raya and Sofie, getting them to safety is your only priority.”
The assault was precise and brutal, executed with the kind of coordinated violence that had made the Nikolai family feared throughout the region. Viktor moved through the warehouse like an avenging angel, his focus narrowed to finding Anka’s sisters and eliminating anyone who stood in his way.
When they finally located the shipping container where Nick was holding the girls, Viktor felt rage unlike anything he’d experienced in years. Raya and Sofie were bound and terrified but alive, their eyes wide with recognition when they saw Anka behind him.
Nick stood between them and the girls, a gun in his hand and madness in his eyes. “I was wondering when you’d show up, Viktor. Though I have to say, bringing the wife along seems counterproductive.”
“Let them go, Nick.” Viktor’s voice carried the kind of deadly calm that preceded executions. “This is between us.”
“Is it?” Nick’s smile was sharp and completely without humor.
“Because from where I’m standing, it looks like this is about teaching you that actions have consequences.
You embarrassed me, cost me deals, and made me look weak in front of people whose respect I need. So I decided to return the favor.”
Viktor could feel Anka tense beside him, could sense her preparing to do something desperate and potentially suicidal. He caught her wrist, squeezing gently in a signal to wait for his move.
“You want revenge? Take it out on me.” Viktor stepped forward, his hands visible and empty. “Let the girls go, and we’ll settle this properly.”
Nick laughed, the sound echoing off the container walls like broken glass. “You really think I’m stupid enough to—”
The shot came from Viktor’s concealed weapon, fired before Nick could finish his sentence. The Italian dropped instantly, his gun clattering across the concrete floor as his body went limp.
Viktor was moving before Nick hit the ground, cutting the restraints that held Raya and Sofie while Anka gathered her sisters into fierce embraces that spoke of relief and terror in equal measure.
“Are you hurt?” Anka asked, her hands checking for injuries with the kind of desperate efficiency that came from genuine fear.
“We’re okay,” Raya whispered, her voice shaky but determined. “He didn’t hurt us, just scared us.”
Viktor watched the reunion with something that felt almost like peace settling in his chest. This was what mattered—family, protection, the willingness to sacrifice anything for the people you loved.
His pursuit of revenge against Adrian seemed petty and meaningless compared to the fierce joy on Anka’s face as she held her sisters.
As they made their way out of the warehouse, Anka caught Viktor’s arm, her eyes carrying gratitude and something else he was afraid to name.
“Thank you,” she said simply.
Viktor looked at his wife, surrounded by her rescued sisters and flanked by his brothers, and finally understood what he should have prioritized from the beginning.
“Always,” he replied, and meant it with every fiber of his being.