Chapter 9
LEX
Idrive out of the city. Nothing in my car but weapons and a change of clothes. No destination in mind except far, far away.
The Bratva don’t know where I’ve been living. If I vanish now, I can keep it that way. I can keep Rose safe.
Every mile I put between me and her kills me.
When I told her about refusing to take out the kid, she looked at me with something like love in her eyes. Tears glistening with understanding—and maybe forgiveness.
I’m doing the right thing.
Keep driving.
I stop before I hit the highway. Pull up at the side of the road and climb out. Look at the skyline, the city, grind my teeth until I almost give myself a headache.
She was so confident last night, so beautiful. In her sleep, she murmured the word love. And that was what made me decide to leave. If I heard that word from her when she was lucid, I wouldn’t be able to abandon her. I’d stick close, risk her life.
Maybe next time, Oleg will start shooting. Maybe she’ll catch a bullet.
I meant what I said in the note. A day with her is a lifetime of emotion. She pierced me, changed me.
How can I go back to who I was before?
But I can’t ask her to run away with me. To leave her home unfinished, her mother’s final wish unfulfilled. It wouldn’t matter anyway.
As long as Nikolai is alive, she’ll always be in danger.
If she’s with me.
The only way to keep her safe is to leave … or to kill Nikolai.
But he’s holed up in his headquarters. I haven’t found a way in that doesn’t mean all-out war.
I’m tough, always have been. But can I take on the Bratva’s army single-handled?
I climb into the car. Start the engine.
But there’s a mental block inside of me. Like one more mile, hell, one more inch away from Rose will destroy me forever.
I close my eyes for a moment and foresee two futures.
In one I’m with Rose. She’s wearing some hip-hugging jeans with a pencil tucked behind her ear, giving directions to her assistants as she transforms a house into a home.
In the other, she’s with another man. His hand wrapped around her.
Maybe she could be happy. Maybe she could forget about me.
But I’ll never forget about her.
And deep in the recesses of my soul, a place that was bleak and dark before her, I know she’d be happier with me. That I’d work my ass off to give her the life she deserves.
I grip the steering wheel so hard my knuckles turn white.
I’m not running.
Which means I have to fight.
I was worried about storming the headquarters before.
But that was before I had Rose as my motivation.
I park up two blocks from The Iron Cellar. I’ve already put my bulletproof vest on. I’m wearing a thick jacket packed with weapons. Guns, knives, a pair of gloves with knuckle dusters woven into the fabric.
Any time doubt tries to grip me, I think of Rose. I think about giving her the chance to pursue her dreams without the shadow of the Bratva hanging over us.
I think of the way she moans and smiles and the confidence that flooded into her last night… confidence I want to see again.
Climbing from the car, I stalk down alleyways, hands twitching.
This could be the last thing I ever do.
Two guards flank the doors, tattoos crawling all over their bodies. A little shorter than me, but still ready for a fight.
I walk directly up to them. Sergei tilts his head.
“I thought you were in hiding,” he says.
“I’m here for blood,” I growl, glancing at Viktor. “I’m here for Nikolai. I’m giving you a fair warning. Get out of here before the shooting starts or you’ll lie in the ground with the Pakhan.”
Sergei spits. “And if we don’t?”
I straighten up. For almost a minute, the men study me in silence. Weigh up how serious I am. Weigh up if I have what it takes to do this.
Only a madman would storm the Cellar alone.
“Fuck this,” Viktor grunts, ducking his head and walking away.
Sergei holds his hands up. “I was on a smoke break. That’s my story.”
“If you shoot me in the back when I walk in there, you better kill me.”
Sergei’s face goes ghostly pale.
My reputation has its benefits.
I push into the bar, keeping my back to the wall as I stalk down the hallway. From the main room, men laugh and cheer. A bottle smashes. Somebody shouts something in Russian.
So far, so good.
I round the corner that leads to Nikolai’s office.
Stop dead in my tracks.
A big bear of a man, wearing a T-shirt with a white skull on it, coarse hair covering his arms, standing at the edge of the hallway.
Sharpening a knife that looks like a toy in his hands.
Artem, one of the most fucked-up men in the Bratva, the sort of prick who’d jump at the chance to do what Nikolai tried to force me to do.
My heart pounds loudly in my ears.
Before Rose, I’d turn back. There’s a long corridor between us. If I just shoot him in the head, I’ll lose the surprise factor I’ve managed to create for myself, so far.
I picture Rose, her dress clinging to her curvy form. The furrow in her brow as she determinedly digs for the pool. The passion in her voice when she talks about fulfilling her mother’s dream.
Then I duck my head and run like a bull.
Artem roars when he hears my footsteps. Raises his gun.
Before he can fire a shot, I grab his wrist. Crack. Bone snaps as I wrench him upward, then I headbutt him so hard I see stars.
He drops like a sack of potatoes. If he was anybody else, maybe I’d give him a chance to live. Tie him up and go on with my work. But Artem is the goddamn devil. And there’s no quit in him.
I take the knife he was just sharpening and do my bloody work. A savage slice from ear to ear that leaves the floor red. And adds one more death onto my already crowded tally.
I don’t wait to see if anybody heard. Can only pray the noise in the main room is loud enough to cover the sound of the fight.
Up the stairs, I aim my gun. Round another corner. The hallway leading to Nikolai’s office is quiet.
This is damn good luck.
A thought strikes me like a bolt of lightning.
Not luck—Rose.
We’re meant to be together. Fate is helping us along.
I stalk down the hallway, pause outside the office. From inside, I hear Nikolai’s voice. A vicious growl. Heavy with entitlement. The voice of a man who was born into Bratva royalty and never had to claw his way up.
Not like me. He never had to walk through Hell just to make a living.
“If you’re extra nice, I’ll even give you a bonus.”
A woman’s voice responds, taut and terrified, “Please don’t do this.”
“It’s already done …”
He’s right. Just not in the way he thinks.
I kick open the office door and leap across the room.
Nikolai—wide, square, solid—turns and immediately aims a gold-ringed fist at me. I slip to the side and crunch my fist into his nose. A loud snap as it breaks and he collapses against the wall.
Before he can recover, I take out my pistol and press it against his forehead. Blood gushes from his nose and over his lips.
I look at the woman. More of a girl really. Clutching her shirt to her chest with mascara streaming down her face.
“I’m sorry,” I tell her. “For whatever he did to you. For whatever he was going to do. Get out of here.”
“Thank you!” she cries, running for the door.
Nikolai flashes a blood-red smile at me. “Are you going to shoot me, Alexei? Do you think you’ll make it out of here alive if you do?”
“I’ve spent a month wondering if I’d be able to get to you, hiding in here like a rat. A month wondering if it’d be the death of me. Then I met her. She gave me the courage I needed. She turned me into the man I’d never be without her.”
He looks at me like I’m deranged.
Perhaps I am.
But if loving Rose makes me crazy, I don’t want to be sane.
“We can talk about thi—”
I shoot him in the head.
When his body drops, I lean down, pick him up.
His men are already waiting for me in the hallway, some of them staring at Artem’s dead body.
I look them in the eye. Stare down the barrels of their guns. Even with me unarmed and holding their dead leader, they look terrified. That’s one of the reasons I’ve always been a lone wolf. They know how dangerous I am.
“Nikolai Dubrov is dead,” I growl. “I killed him. Me. Alexei Markov. Anybody who has a problem with that, make it known now. We’ll settle it like men. Otherwise drop your weapons and get the fuck out of my way.”
They flinch as terror spreads through the group.
I drop the dead body. They twitch, glancing at each other. Each coward urges the other to make a move. Pleading with their eyes. But they’re all thinking the same thing.
If he killed Artem and Nikolai, he can kill us too.
What if he has backup?
We’re no match for him.
They part like the Red fucking Sea when I walk through them, their guns lowered. Oleg is with them. I meet his gaze and he quickly ducks his head.
When I’m finally back in my car, I let out a shaky breath, adrenaline flooding through me.
Then I call Pash.
Nikolai might be dead. The Bratva might be defeated.
But there’s one more loose thread to take care of.