Chapter 22 – Adrik
My body was aching from the beating I’d taken, my blood boiling with fury. I locked my jaw, my grip tightening around the glass of vodka in my hand.
We’d escaped the ambush and had gotten home by now. All thanks to my brave woman. If she hadn’t stood up for me the way she did, the story would’ve probably ended in tragedy. The mere thought of losing to Richard Beaumont made expression darken.
That smug look of satisfaction on his face when we got into the car still haunted me. “Yeah, run away, you coward. Run away!” Those words stung.
I never ran away from a fight. Never. The only reason I rushed to the car and drove away was to keep my wife safe. She’d proven to everyone she wasn’t joking when she shot that man in the leg.
Considering the fact that Richard was a madman, there was no telling what he’d do to her. That’s why I chose to take her to safety first.
Richard Beaumont had humiliated me on the streets of Chicago. He’d had his men fight me in an unfair battle. And for that, he was going to pay. I survived his attack. But he wasn’t going to survive mine. No. I’d make sure of that.
I lifted the glass to my mouth and took a sip, my eyes staring out the window. I’d told Sergei and the others to stay alert and await my orders. I needed some time to get my shit together and come up with a good retaliation plan.
Richard had bitten off more than he could chew. It was time to choke.
I sensed her presence even without turning back; her signature scent gave her away.
“Hey,” she called quietly, her voice sweet and tender.
I turned around. “Hey.”
She watched me for a second, her eyes boring into mine. “You okay?”
I shoved the remaining vodka down my throat. “Never better.”
She moved forward, her bare feet padding across the floor. “Listen, I know you’re angry—”
“You have no idea,” I growled, locking my jaw.
“Actually, I do.” She halted in front of me. “I’m not asking you not to take your revenge. I’m only begging you to spare Richard’s life.”
My brows knitted together at her request.
“You can destroy his assets, burn his empire to the ground. Hell, you can even frame him for something that would land him in jail for a very long time.” She paused, staring into my eyes. “Just don’t kill him. Please.”
“This is war, Emika,” I replied, my voice dripping with venom. “And he started it.”
“I know,” she said. “Richard Beaumont is evil. But he’s also my grandfather. I don’t…I don’t wanna be linked to his death. It’ll be messed up.”
I clenched my fingers into fists, hating how much her tenderness affected me. However, before I could even give her request some thought, I noticed something strange.
Her eyes, wide with terror, had shifted from my face to something behind me. And in the next second, chaos erupted.
“Get down!” she screamed at me, her arms wrapping around me as she pushed me away from the window.
The moment we hit the ground, gunshots rang out, bullets shattering the glass. Instinctively, I rolled over her body, my protective arms shielding her face from the falling shards.
Richard’s men had followed us home. They brought the fight to my mansion. How dare they!
“This is the man you’re rooting for?” I asked her, my voice filled with rage.
Three armed men swung into my office space through the broken window.
“Stay down,” I murmured in her ear.
With lightning speed, I sprang to my feet and hurled myself into the air. A second layer, my knee connected with an assailant’s head, denting it into the edge of my table.
The other two turned toward me, firing their guns.
Too slow.
I moved between them, weaving through their shots with tactical steps. I grabbed one’s hand in a heartbeat and twisted. He threw his head back and screamed as I snapped his elbow like a fuckin’ twig.
The other fired three times, but I was quick to use the one with the broken arm as a human shield.
While his body absorbed the shots, his gun slipped from his grasp.
I caught it in midair, poked my head from behind his back, and pulled the trigger.
A bullet to the head knocked the other guy out cold.
The two men dropped dead.
“Don’t get up!” I said to Emika.
By now, the sound of rapid gunfire has filled the air, plunging the whole mansion into chaos.
I picked up an assault rifle discarded on the floor and aimed it at the door. Waiting. Less than three seconds later, four armed men barged in. Unfortunately for them, I was prepared. I open fire: four rapid shots. One bullet for each.
The screams of my maids echoed through the hallways, blending with the deafening sound of gunshots. My staff had nothing to do with our fight, and Richard had no business invading my home.
There was no way in hell that I was going to let him live after this.
“Emi, stay here,” I said to her, already marching toward the door.
“What? No!” She rose to her feet, rushing over to me with her head lowered. “Wherever you go, I go.”
“It’s dangerous out there,” I insisted, shifting my gaze between her and the front door. “For all we know, these people might be everywhere in the house.” My voice dropped to a low whisper. “We’re trapped in here with them.”
“No, Adrik. This is our home.” She picked up one of the dead men’s pistols. “We’re not trapped in here with them. They’re trapped in here with us.”
Somehow, her perspective on the situation made more sense and boosted my confidence.
I glanced at the pistol in her hand. “Do you know how to use that thing?”
“I popped a man’s leg with it just hours ago.”
Fair enough.
I wasn’t in agreement with this plan, but then again, she’d made up her mind to come with.
“Lay low and stay close.” I led the way, holding up the rifle in front of me.
With my other hand, I held on to her, and we moved through the hallways. The air was thick with the stench of death and the smell of gunpowder. Bodies lay sprawled across the floor, my men and Richard’s.
The walls were stained with blood, the corridor echoing with gunshots. Without hesitation, I shot any enemy in sight. I expected the hallways to be raging hot, but all I found was a pile of bodies.
Since we’d left the office, I’d killed barely three of Richard’s men. I couldn’t help noticing that most of the corpses were the enemy’s.
“Look out!” Emika yelled, her voice laced with urgency.
However, before I could even lift my head, she’d squeezed her trigger. She put three bullets in the chest of an enemy ahead. I’d been so distracted by the bodies on the floor that I hadn’t seen him appear around a corner.
If Emika hadn’t fired first, he probably would’ve shot us down.
I hurried over to his motionless body on the ground to confirm the kill.
“Is…is he dead?” she whispered, stuttering.
I nodded.
And just like that, the shooting stopped, followed by the voices of my men chanting in Russian. Heavy footsteps rapidly approached us, and Emika aimed her gun at the corner. Waiting.
When I heard the familiar voices, I lowered my guard and stood at ease.
“Put the gun down,” I said to her. “They’re not the enemy.”
“Seeing is believing.” She held on to her weapon, refusing to trust my words.
I let out a soft scoff.
When the men rounded the corner, they lifted their hands in surrender.
“Don’t shoot!” Sergei exclaimed, arms in front of him. “We’re not the enemy.”
It wasn’t until she saw them for herself that she lowered her gun.
I stepped forward, my face twisting into a frown. “What happened here?”
“Richard’s men invaded,” Sergei answered. “But we were more prepared. They’re all dead.”
I clenched my jaw. “And Richard?”
“He’s downstairs.”
“He’s alive?” Emika asked, sounding more disappointed than relieved.
“Barely,” Sergei said. “He’s wounded. Ain’t no way he’s gonna make it.”
“What about the maids?” Emika asked, concerned. “Natalya and Hannah—what about them? Are they okay?”
“The sisters are fine,” he answered. “A couple of maids sustained minor injuries. Nothing serious.”
She let out a heavy sigh of relief.
“Check for survivors,” I said, glancing at the bodies around us. “Make sure every wounded man gets immediate medical attention.”
Sergei nodded.
I walked away, heading toward the living room.
“Where’re you going?” Emiko followed up behind me.
“To make sure my face is the last thing Richard sees before he takes his last breath.”
The living room downstairs was a mess. Dead bodies everywhere—on the floor, tables, and couches. There were bullet holes in the TV, the walls, and the ceiling. The chandelier was shattered on the broken coffee table, its shards spread out across the space.
The once polished marble floor was now stained with pools of blood, thick and slippery.
Richard was sitting on the floor with his back against the wall. He had a hand over the wound on his abdomen and was bleeding uncontrollably. When he coughed, blood spilled from his mouth, his breathing strained and hollow.
I halted in front of him, fingers curled into a fist on my right hand. “It’s over, Richard. You lost.”
His eyes shifted toward his granddaughter. “You think he’s better than me?” He coughed, then laughed weakly. “You have no idea.”
She reached out and held my hand, ignoring his words.
He faced me. “She’s still here only because she doesn’t know the truth.” His lips curved into a mischievous grin. “She doesn’t know what you did.”
I locked my jaw, brows furrowing to form deep creases between them.
“Don’t worry,” he murmured, too weak to speak. “I won’t say a word. It’s not…it’s not my secret to tell.”
We both watched as his hand slid off to the floor and his body went limp. He died with his eyes open and what looked like a mocking grin on his bloodied mouth.
Emika stepped forward and crouched before him, then slowly reached out to close his eyelids.
I might have won this battle, but another battle still remained to be fought. He hadn’t told Emika the truth, but he’d planted a seed of curiosity in her. She’d start asking questions, and sooner or later, I’d have to come clean with her.
And that was when the second battle would begin. It wouldn’t be bloody or physical. But it just might hurt me in ways I wasn’t ready for.
Nothing is hidden under the sun, they say.
That couldn’t have been more apt because now, my past had caught up with me. It had found a way to bleed into my life without warning.