Chapter Twenty Seven
LUKYAN VOLKOV
“Booya!” I slammed the card down. “Draw four, motherfucker.”
Cedric slammed the side of his fist down on the table so hard it shook. He picked up four cards from the deck, adding them to the ones he already had in his hand.
Despite the fact he was kinda keeping me hostage, Cedric was actually a pretty cool dude.
Took a while to warm up, sure, but if I was good at anything, it was getting people to open up.
He was always around. Kind of like my watcher, making sure I didn’t do anything crazy or stupid while Lyla was away.
It didn’t happen often. Lyla was usually always there, but she had to go and pick up her brother from the airport.
I almost managed to convince her to take me, but she was worried about how her brother would react if he saw me.
Apparently, the dude didn’t like me. Kinda harsh considering he’d never fucking met me, but whatever.
I think there was also a small part of her that worried I might try to escape.
I didn’t feel that desire nearly as much as I should have.
I kinda didn’t wanna leave. I liked spending time with her.
She was funny. Sweet. Beyond anything I would have ever expected, and I never felt less than when I was with her.
Never felt like I wasn’t good enough. That I couldn’t be myself.
That I might say something stupid and get reprimanded.
She encouraged me to be exactly who I was, and I cherished that. Had come to depend on it a little.
I knew I couldn’t stay there forever, though.
My family needed me. The longer I stayed in that house, the longer my father was at risk.
As much as I was enjoying myself, I needed to go.
I planned to talk to Lyla when she got back.
We’d spent a lot of time together. We were fucking married, for God’s sake, in every sense of the word.
I should be able to convince her to let me go.
“Earth to Pretty Boy,” Cedric said, clicking his fingers in front of my face.
“Huh?” My thoughts vanished, and I focused back on the game. Wait a minute. “Did you just call me pretty?”
He rolled his eyes. “As if you don’t know you’re pretty.”
“Oh, I know. I just never expected you to say it.” I winked.
“Whatever. What color?” he asked, referring to the game we were playing, Uno. We played a lot of games to pass the time. That was one of the ways I got him to warm up to me. It was either that or sullen silence. No thank you.
“Yellow.”
He put down a yellow skip, then a yellow nine.
I put down another draw four.
“What the fuck?!” he yelled, thumping his fist down again. “How do you keep getting those?!”
“Luck.” Actually, that was bullshit. I was cheating.
I cheated all the time in games. Anyone who knew me knew that.
Too bad for Cedric, he hadn’t quite figured that out yet.
He would eventually, though. There was only a certain number of times someone could win before it became suspicious. “When is Lyla coming back?”
“Why? Miss her already?” he grunted, picking up another four cards and adding them to his hand.
“Kinda, yeah. And I wanna talk to her.”
“She won’t let you go.”
“Red,” I said, picking another color. “And why not?”
“Because she’s worried you’ll never come back.” He put down a red six.
I dropped another draw four onto the pile of cards in front of us. “Uno.”
“Get. Fucked!” Cedric roared. I never would have pegged him as someone to get so serious in a card game. It was kinda hilarious. Cedric grumbled with each card he picked up from the deck. I had to hold in my snicker. “Would you?” he asked curiously.
“Would I what?”
“Come back.”
I wasn’t sure what to say. Or, more specifically, what I wanted him to know. “I can’t stay here forever. I’ve got a family. I’ve got obligations—”
“I didn’t ask if you’d stay here forever. I asked if you would come back.”
“Why do you care? You don’t even like me.”
“No. I don’t. You’re impetuous—”
“My, my, what a big word.”
“Reckless—”
“I prefer the term adventurous.”
“And childish, and Lyla loves you. I don’t want to see her hurt.”
My insides softened. “I don’t want to hurt her. I care about her. I do. But my family is in danger. We’re in the middle of a war.”
He frowned. “I have a lot of connections in the Bratva. I haven’t heard anything about a war happening.”
And he never would. It was an internal war. One between us and my grandfather. No one else needed to know. If the other crime organizations knew we were fighting amongst ourselves, they might see it as the perfect opportunity to strike and try to take us down for good.
“Just because you haven’t heard of it doesn’t mean it’s not happening. Blue,” I said, picking a color and continuing the game. I wasn’t concerned Cedric would blab about that. He didn’t do anything without Lyla’s approval.
Cedric put down a blue eight and pursed his lips. “I’ve known Lyla her whole life, and it took me seeing you two together to realize she has never truly been herself. That she’s been living a lie. Don’t break her heart.”
I stared at him. He stared at me back, silence reigning between us. I put down my last card—another draw four—winning the game.
It all seemed to click in his head then. “You cheated.”
“Yep.”
“You always cheat.”
“Yep.”
He shook his head, laughing. “Rematch.”
We played a few more rounds of Uno, me winning every single one—we’re not really surprised, are we?—before switching to poker. We chatted the whole time, just talking shit and the topic of Lyla. Me leaving didn’t resurface, which I was thankful for.
We were halfway through our third game of Texas Hold ’Em when a sound made us both stiffen.
“What was that?” I asked, looking around the lounge room.
Cedric’s brows lowered in confusion. “I don’t—”
BOOM!
The house shook as an explosive ripped through the front door. Cedric went flying. The concussive blast slammed against my body, sending me hurtling into the couch, causing it to tip over. Disorientation washed over me, followed by pain.
Ow. What the fuck?!
Smoke filled my vision. I coughed, a hand flying to my chest. Jesus Christ, that hurt.
I sluggishly got to my feet. Soldiers piled into the house, squeezing through the hole in the steel roller doors, armed to the tee.
One after the other after the other. I looked around for a weapon, my eyes catching on the poker for the fireplace.
I felt like shit, but I had no idea who the soldiers were or what the fuck they were doing there.
Arming myself was critical to being able to defend myself.
I picked it up and went to swing at the first soldier within reach—
“Lukyan!”
The poker stopped an inch away from the soldier’s head at the sound of my name. I looked behind him. “Father?”
Standing in the foyer, dressed in military gear was my father, Autumn at his side, wearing identical clothing. Relief washed over my father’s face as he looked at me. The poker dropped from my hands and clattered to the ground in my shock.
What?
The soldier moved away, and my father was right there, ramming into my body and wrapping his arms around me in the biggest bear hug.
“Thank God,” he whispered, squeezing me tighter.
I choked, a flare of pain shooting through me.
“Shit, I’m sorry.” He let me go instantly. “Are you okay?” He asked, concerned.
“I’m fine. Just, that blast knocked me on my ass.”
“Yeah, I’m sorry about that. We had no choice. It was the only way to get in quickly.”
“I’m so glad you’re okay,” Autumn said, giving me a hug.
He turned to the soldiers still swarming in. “Clear the house!”
“Father.”
He locked eyes with me, the relief swimming in his gaze making me feel guilty. While I’d been enjoying myself, having the time of my fucking life, he’d been suffering.
“What are you doing here?” I asked in a whisper.
His body went rigid at my words. “What do you mean? I’m here to save you.”
Save me. From Lyla. From the woman I love.
Two men came over, carrying an unconscious Cedric. They dropped him at my father’s feet. “House is clear, sir. There’s no one else here. Only him.”
The Butcher reared his head. The change was instantaneous. He went from concerned father to the merciless former leader of the Bratva in the blink of an eye, and it was all directed at Cedric.
“Kill him,” Father spat.
“No, don't!" I ran forward and blocked Cedric with my body, standing in front of him. “Don’t kill him.”
Father narrowed his eyes. “Why?”
My throat suddenly felt dry. “Because.”
“Because why, Lukyan?”
Goddamn it. “Because he’s a cool dude, and I like him.”
“You like the man who kidnapped you?” Autumn asked, confused.
“Well, if we’re being specific, he didn’t kidnap me. He was more my watcher.”
Father slashed a hand through the air, annoyed. “It doesn’t matter if he was the one who kidnapped you or not. He participated in it. So, he’s dead.” He pulled out his gun.
“No!” I stood taller, staring my father down. “No,” I repeated strongly. More sternly. “Don’t kill him.”
His eyes held mine. I didn’t look away. I couldn’t let him do it. I just couldn’t. Autumn laid a hand on my father’s shoulder, and he turned his head. They stared at each other for a moment before he cursed, putting his gun away.
“Fine,” he all but snarled.
Relief filled my chest.
“Everybody, move out!” The soldiers immediately did as he ordered, filing out of the house. “Let’s go, Lukyan.” He moved away, Autumn following.
My feet stayed rooted in place. Indecision warred inside me. I’d just been talking about needing to leave. The opportunity was right there, right at my fingertips, and yet, I couldn’t make my feet move.
Leaving Lyla, without a single word, didn’t sit right with me. Caused a heavy pressure to sit firmly on my chest, making it hard to breathe. The connection she’d been so adamant we shared solidified over my time with her. I couldn’t just abandon that. Abandon her.
The idea of her returning home to see I’d left…The hurt she’d undoubtedly feel…hurt me. I didn’t want to leave her—
“Lukyan.” My eyes rose to clash with my father’s bright blue ones. A somber expression crossed his face. “Let’s go,” he said again. There was a layer of concern and worry in his voice. In his words. As if he feared I wouldn’t go with him. That I wanted to stay.
You do want to say, a little voice said inside my head.
But I can’t. My family needs me. My father needs me. Lyla will understand that, won’t she?
The voice didn’t answer me. I didn’t need it to. I already knew it wasn’t true. Lyla had told me countless times that she was afraid I would leave her, and when she returned to see I was gone, it would break her.
Break me.
“Lukyan.” My father’s voice was softer this time. More cautious. “Come with me, son. Please,” he implored. The alarm and fear on his face was what urged me forward.
I walked toward him and left.