42. Ivan
42
IVAN
C ars grind to a halt outside the compound, tires screeching as they line up like an army ready for battle. Men in dark suits spill out, guns drawn, faces hard with intent.
I feel the familiar adrenaline kick in, my focus sharpening. My men form up beside me, shoulders squared, eyes narrowed. Each one knows what’s coming; they don’t hesitate, don’t question. The sound of guns loading fills the tense silence. We’ve trained for this. We’re all prepared.
My grip tightens on my own weapon as I scan the scene. Jimmy’s men are well-armed, but they’re not ready for what they’re about to face. This is my home, my ground, and I protect what’s mine. I won’t lose here.
A familiar figure steps out of one of the cars, flanked by his own entourage. Jimmy. He stands there, smug and relaxed, as if he’s already won. His voice carries across the courtyard, dripping with false diplomacy. “This doesn’t need to be a war, Ivan. Hand Cathy over, and no blood needs to be shed.”
“You made it a war when you hurt Nik.”
“She belongs to me. Give her back. Now.”
The rage that’s been simmering inside me ignites. The thought of him even getting close to Cathy sends a dark pulse through me. I steady my weapon, my voice cold and unyielding. “Over my dead body.”
Jimmy’s smile sharpens, his eyes gleaming with malice. “Suits me,” he replies smoothly.
The signal is given. His men raise their guns. I give my own signal, and in the next heartbeat, chaos erupts.
Gunfire tears through the courtyard, bullets zipping past me and ricocheting off stone. My men and I move as one, our line unwavering as we fire back, closing ranks to protect the house.
I dart behind a column, take a quick shot, then shift, moving smoothly from one piece of cover to another, picking off Jimmy’s men with deadly precision. My aim is steady, my focus absolute—there’s no room for mistakes.
One of his men falls, then another. The ground is littered with shells and dust, a heavy cloud settling over the scene as the smell of gunpowder thickens the air.
But this isn’t enough; Jimmy is still out there, lurking, and every instinct in me is set on one thing: reaching him before he reaches Cathy.
The fight pushes gradually inward, into the mansion’s grand entryway, bullets ripping through walls, shattering chandeliers, and splintering furniture.
The house feels alive, echoing with every shot, each impact magnifying the intensity. Dust and smoke hang like a fog, but my movements are calculated, sharp. I’ve fought through worse, and I know every corner, every hallway here. This is my ground.
I catch a flash of movement by the staircase—one of Jimmy’s men, gun raised, zeroing in on Anya, who’s cornered near a doorway. They rush her and she screams. I don’t think. I aim, and the shot rings out, swift and precise.
A man falls, his weapon clattering against the marble floor. Anya’s eyes meet mine, wide with relief, as the others rush back into the shadows.
My mind locks back onto my objective. I can’t let Jimmy slip past. I advance through the haze, leaving a trail of his men downed in my wake, each one a step closer to him.
My instincts cry out. He’s going for Cathy. I sprint for her room. The attack on Anya was a feint. They got the keys from her in the chaos.
The moment I burst into Cathy’s room, the tension hits me like a wall. Jimmy stands there, his face twisted in fury, a predator closing in on his prey.
My gun is leveled at him, finger ready on the trigger, but Cathy steps forward, her hand raised in a silent command for me to wait. Her expression is fearless, defiant, with a steel I haven’t seen before.
“Wait,” she says, her voice carrying across the room, steady and unyielding.
I pause, my eyes narrowing, but there’s something in her stance, a calm confidence. Respect flickers in me, though every protective instinct screams for me to end this myself. Cathy steps closer to Jimmy, facing him with her chin held high, the fire in her gaze unwavering.
“I’m not under your control anymore, Jimmy,” she tells him, her tone cutting like glass. “You kill me, you get nothing. I’m not afraid of you.”
Jimmy’s lip curls, sneering with contempt. “Look at you,” he scoffs, his voice dripping with disdain. “Acting like you’re something special. Don’t flatter yourself, Cathy. You’re nothing but a naive little girl. Do you think anyone would want you for anything but your money? You’re not exactly a prize.”
I see Cathy’s jaw clench, her fists tight at her sides, but she doesn’t back down. The insult doesn’t rattle her. Instead, her voice only grows colder, more certain. “I’d rather die than go anywhere with you again, Jimmy. You get nothing. Leave and you might get to live.”
I catch a subtle movement at her side, and my gaze shifts to the small pistol concealed in her hand. She’s holding it with a confidence that surprises me, her knuckles white around the handle. But Jimmy doesn’t notice. He’s too focused on his own fury, too blinded by his need for control.
“Money’s the only reason anyone could ever stand you,” he spits, stepping closer, his eyes glinting with malice. “You think you’re brave, Cathy? You think you’re better than me? You’re still just the pathetic little nobody I should have left behind.”
The room feels charged, every nerve in me ready to move, to strike. But before I can react, Cathy’s hand tightens around the gun, her stance unwavering.
Jimmy finally notices the gun in her grip, and his face contorts with rage. “You think you’re tough now, holding a weapon?” He lunges forward, hands outstretched, intent on taking her down. “I know you won’t do it. You’re a weak, pathetic piece of shit and that’s all you’ll ever be.”
Time seems to slow. I could shoot him. This is my chance.
I have faith in her. She doesn’t flinch. With a fierce, determined look, she lifts the pistol, her movements calm, precise. The shot rings out in the room, sharp and final.
Jimmy stumbles back, clutching his chest, eyes wide in shock and disbelief. His hands shake as he looks down, his fingers covered in his own blood. He staggers, his breaths shallow, as if trying to understand how he ended up on the other end of her fury.
His voice is a choked whisper, fading, barely audible. “You… you really…”
But Cathy doesn’t lower her gaze. She stands strong, watching him without a trace of fear, and I see the unspoken strength in her posture, the triumph in her silence. This is Cathy taking back her power, her life.
Jimmy’s knees give way, and he collapses to the floor, his face a mixture of terror and regret as he draws his last breath.
The life fades from his eyes, leaving him still, motionless—a man who once held so much power over her, now nothing more than a broken figure on the ground.
I step forward, my eyes still on Cathy. She stands there, gun lowered, her breathing steady, shoulders squared. I see the strength she’s found within herself, the resilience that’s brought her here.
Her gaze finally shifts to me, her expression softening, and I reach for her, pulling her close. She leans into my embrace, her hand gripping my shirt tightly.
“I underestimated you,” I murmur, the weight of my words hanging in the air. “I thought you needed protecting, that you’d break if you had to face him alone. But you’re stronger than I ever gave you credit for.” My fingers tighten gently on her arms, unable to mask the pride and awe I feel.
Her eyes soften, and despite everything, there’s warmth in her gaze. “You wanted me safe,” she whispers, her voice a bit unsteady but resolute. “But I needed to prove to myself that I could face him… that I wasn’t powerless anymore. Thank you, Ivan—for letting me do that.” She places her hand over mine. “I know that was hard for you.”
I nod, my chest tightening as I look at her. “You’ve proven yourself a Bratva queen,” I say, my voice filled with a respect I rarely extend to anyone. “I see that now. You’ve more than earned your place as my wife.”
Her gaze drifts down to Jimmy’s lifeless body, still lying cold and unmoving on the floor. A shadow of doubt crosses her face. “What am I supposed to do now?” she whispers, almost to herself. “I’ve killed a man, Ivan.”
I place a steady hand on her shoulder, watching her closely. “Killed who?” I ask, letting a faint smirk tug at my lips. She looks up at me, confusion flickering in her expression, and I nod to my men, who are already moving in to remove Jimmy’s body.
Turning back to Cathy, I add, “He was never here. Twenty witnesses will swear he’s been in Chicago the last two months.”
She stares at me, the realization settling in. This world may be dark and dangerous, but I will shield her from it with everything I have. Whatever she’s done, whatever weight she thinks she has to carry, I’ll bear it with her.
Once Jimmy’s body is gone, a quiet falls between us. I loosen my grip on her arms, taking a half step back, though every instinct tells me to keep her close. My voice softens. “You’re free now, Cathy. Free to leave or stay. The choice is yours.”
Her eyes search mine, uncertainty flickering across her face. “What do you mean?”
I hold her gaze, willing her to see everything I feel. “No more control, no more ties, nothing holding you here but what you choose,” I say. “If you want to go, I won’t stop you. You’ve earned that choice and you’ve got enough money to make it in this world. But if you stay, we raise our child together. What do you want to do?”