Chapter 20 – Karik
I sat on a sofa, legs crossed, fingers drumming against the armrest. My gaze was fixed on the front door with a flat expression on my face. The dark room offered the kind of silence that calmed my mind, creating the perfect atmosphere for my plan.
He’d be home any moment from now, and I’d be here when he did, waiting patiently. His name was Igor Yevgeny, a high-ranking Bratva officer and also a traitor. He didn’t know this, but I was on to him; I’d been on to him for about a month now.
The bastard had been secretly selling sensitive Bratva information to the Sokolov Syndicate. He thought he was smart. He thought he was careful enough not to draw attention to himself. But he got sloppy, and my lieutenant, Sergei, caught a whiff of his treachery.
I told myself that I was only here on an official Bratva assignment. But deep down, it was more than that. The real reason I was at his place wasn’t to confront him about his treachery. It was to settle a personal score.
Yesterday, during a Bratva meeting, he made derogatory remarks about my wife. He called her unfit to bear the Tarasov name because, in his view, she had nothing to offer the organization.
Igor had gone ahead and accused me of being selfish, saying I married my prisoner for my own personal interest. The bastard didn’t stop there. No. He called her a whore. He called my Ellie a whore in front of everyone present.
I didn’t react. Didn’t even say a word to him. The fool must’ve thought that he got off easy. He was wrong.
My fingers slowly clenched into fists on both hands as I imagined the different ways to make him suffer. I wasn’t here because he was a traitor. I was here because he insulted my wife. It was fuckin’ personal.
The front door opened, and two sets of footsteps stumbled into the dark room. One was the scuffing of shoes, and the other was the clicking of heels.
A woman’s soft giggles filled the air, accompanied by a familiar voice, thick with the Russian Accent. “Ohh, I’m going to destroy you tonight.”
It was him. Igor Yevgeny.
I remained on the sofa, silent and unmoving as I watched their figures move in the shadows.
“It’s dark in here,” the woman said amidst chuckles. “I wanna see your face when I make you come.”
“Oooh, sexy!” the bastard replied, his tone laced with excitement. “I like how you’re thinking.”
Barely three seconds later, the lights came on, the chandelier’s warm glow illuminating the room. The woman was already on the bed with her legs spread apart when she spotted me at a corner.
She screamed, eyes wide with fear, as she sprang to her feet.
“Oh, fuck!” Igor exclaimed upon seeing me. “What’re you—how did you get in here?!” He bent over to pull up his pants.
Silence.
“I’m calling security.” He rushed over to the table and grabbed the telephone, only to realize the line was dead.
My men had already cut the hotel signal. They had the place surrounded, and his men were either dead or tied up somewhere. The asshole was alone with no backup.
He swallowed hard, finally grasping the gravity of his situation. A hint of terror flashed in his eyes as he lowered the phone, his gaze locked on mine.
“Leave,” I said to the woman without looking in her direction.
She wasted no time, heels clicking frantically against the floor.
“What do you want with me?” he asked, his voice a low whisper.
I paused, disgusted by his cowardice, by his inability to speak as confidently as he did during the meeting yesterday.
“Sit down.”
He swallowed. Harder this time.
I watched him sink into the couch across from me.
“How long have you been working with the Sokolov Syndicate?”
His breath hitched, his eyes looking everywhere but at my face. “I…I don’t…I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
A pause.
“I have proof…Igor,” I stated, my gaze unwavering. “So don’t you lie to me.”
A bead of cold sweat tricked down the side of his head, his feet tapping restlessly against the floor. “Look, I can explain….”
“That’s not why I’m here.” My voice, sharp like a blade, interrupted him.
His eyes squinted, a glint of confusion flickering beneath. “Why…why are you here, then?”
The fine leather crunched beneath me as I leaned in, watching him with deadly intent. “I want you to repeat what you said yesterday.”
His throat bobbled.
“Look me in the eye and repeat what you said about my wife,” I growled, my blood boiling with fury.
“Uh…um….” He cleared his throat. “About—about that. I crossed a line, and I shouldn’t have,” he stuttered. “I’m sorry.”
His stupid apology only aggravated me and worsened his case.
“Do you know what I hate more than traitors, Igor?”
Silence.
“Cowards—spinless bastards who can’t fess up and own their shit.” I rose to my feet, slowly shedding my jacket. “So I’ll tell you again. Repeat what you said about my wife. Say it to my face.”
By now, he was already on his feet as well, his eyes scanning the room.
“Listen, Karik, we can settle this like two adults.” His voice trembled. “Let’s—let’s talk this out.”
The closer I drew, the more he retreated like a scared little chicken.
Igor knew he didn’t stand a chance against me in a hand-to-hand combat. That’s why he was so afraid.
His back hit the edge of a table behind him, causing the lamp on the surface to shake violently. He glanced at it and, in a split second, thought it would serve as a makeshift weapon. Igor reached for the lamp and swung it at me.
My hand shot out in a heartbeat, catching his wrist midair. I saw the horror in his eyes as he realized he’d just made a wrong move. He groaned in pain as I twisted his arm, my grip so tight it dug into his flesh.
“Argh! Fuck!”
He tried to throw a punch, a rather flimsy one. I dodged it effortlessly, retaliating with a powerful slap that knocked him down.
I grabbed him by the collar and began hurling punches in his face, each strike harder than the last. His words during that meeting echoed in my head, fueling my anger.
“How dare you…talk…about…my wife…the way…you did?” I growled, my fist smashing his face after each pause.
He pleaded, but his voice was faint, his arms too weak to retaliate or defend himself.
Those irritating words fell on deaf ears because I didn’t stop. I kept hurling punches even though his nose was broken and his face was battered beyond recognition.
The impact of my fist crushing his bones made my knuckles hurt. But the pain was nothing compared to the satisfaction of watching him suffer.
I dented his skull into the edge of the table multiple times until his head cracked open. A dark, sluggish ribbon began unfurling from his hairline, tracing the curve of his temple. His body jerked once. Twice. Then stopped.
Panting, I stepped back, watching him draw his last breath. Only then did I feel a fleeting sense of comfort. Blood dripped from my knuckles as I towered over his lifeless form, my chest still heaving.
The bastard got what he deserved.
This was supposed to be about his betrayal of the Bratva. However, it wasn’t. It was about my wife. I wasn’t entirely sure what this meant for me. Were my priorities misplaced?
I’d been with other women in the past, and far worse things had been said about them. But I’d never taken any of those statements to heart. Not even once.
Why was it different with Ellie?
I fuckin’ murdered a man because of her. And I’d do it again. Over and over.
Was I becoming obsessed or protecting what was mine?
The front door opened, and Sergei walked in, his shoes scuffing against the floor. He paused beside me and handed me a clean white handkerchief.
I accepted it and began wiping my bloodied knuckles. “Clean up this mess,” I said. “And spread the word about Igor’s treachery.”
He gave a quiet nod.
I walked away, wiping the tiny blood stains on my white shirt.
***
By the time I got home, she was the first person I wanted to see. Why? Not sure. I just wanted to set my eyes on her so badly.
A part of me was starting to enjoy her company a little more than I should.
The banter, the spontaneous sex, and the sheer pleasure of being in the same space with her always awakened strange emotions within me. I didn’t understand them. I didn’t want to either.
I told myself it was nothing serious. But deep down, I knew something was growing, something that I might not be ready for.
I made my way through the hallway, straight to her room, unsure of what to do or say when I got there. There was no plan of any sort, no purpose for me being here. Just a burning desire to see her.
The door opened with a soft creak, revealing the inside of her room. The scent of her perfume drifted through the air as I scanned the space.
“She’s not in there, sir,” a familiar voice came from behind me.
I turned around slowly.
It was Agata. She was standing across the hall.
I closed the door behind me. “Where is she?”
“In the library.”
Of course.
She didn’t wait a second longer before picking up her pace in the opposite direction.
Ellie was probably reviewing the files I gave her, which sparked my curiosity. I was certain she’d found something interesting because the files were mostly edited reports.
I headed over there without wasting a second. The door was slightly ajar when I arrived, warm light spilling across the floor. I pushed it open and stepped inside.
She was seated on the floor with her back against a shelf. Hardcover books, papers, and documents were scattered around her as she scribbled something down in a notepad.
Her hair was tied up into a messy bun with strands escaping to frame her face. The hem of her oversized sweater brushed against her thighs, revealing a tantalizing glimpse of her lap.
“It’s late,” I said, walking over to her. “Aren’t you supposed to be in bed?”
“Can’t sleep,” she replied without raising her head. “Besides, this is the only thing that makes me feel like I’m not completely useless in this house.”
I ignored the pain and frustration in her tone and the way her words stung more than they should.
After a beat, I asked, “Did you find anything interesting?”
“What I find interesting is you handing me edited files and partial cases and then expecting me to find something ‘interesting.’” She air-quoted the word, finally meeting my gaze.
Guilty.
“These aren’t even real cases,” she added, her voice laced with a hint of frustration. “And the few that are have the important pages torn out.”
I stood a couple of paces in front of her, a hand in my pocket. I didn’t realize there was a crooked smirk tugging at my lips until she mentioned it—in that direct, unfiltered way of hers.
“Did I say something funny?” Her brows arched, a faint scowl setting on her face.
I didn’t respond, didn’t take my eyes off her either.
She held my gaze a second longer than necessary before breaking eye contact. “Anyway.” She exhaled sharply, brushing her hair behind her ear. “Whoever edited the Maren file removed the destination but left the fuel. The range doesn’t match the domestic route. At all.”
I glanced down, scanning the documents scattered around her. Her handwriting was small and precise, pleasing to look at. I noticed she used a lot of brackets, asterisks, and question marks to group her thoughts.
She didn’t write like an amateur. She wrote like a professional who knew exactly what she was doing.
Impressive.
“There are lots of inconsistencies in this case. For instance, the witness designation on page nine.” Ellie rose to her feet. “Witness C appeared in two separate interviews conducted five days apart. Yet the phrasing in both is exactly the same.”
I stared at her in silence, watching the way her skin glowed in the warm light. Faint creases formed on her forehead as she spoke, demonstrating with her hands.
Her expressive hazel eyes sparkled with something I couldn’t describe. Her lips were moving, but I was too distracted by her to pay attention to her words. I should. But I couldn’t.
She paused, and I noticed she wasn’t speaking anymore. Her eyes were fixed on me, a suspicious look on her face. That’s when I snapped back to reality.
“Did you even hear a word I said?” she demanded, hands on her waist.
In all honesty, I stopped listening the second she rose to her feet.
With a straight face, I looked right at her, my voice low and even. “It’s late. You should get some rest.”
“Speak for yourself. I’m fine,” she replied. “I’m not the one who zoned out mid-conversation.”
Fair enough.
Her gaze dropped to the collar of my shirt, and her eyes narrowed. “Wait, is that blood?”
I didn’t respond.
She took a step forward. “Yours or someone else’s?”
I wasn’t sure what I heard in her tone: concern or disdain?
My fingers combed through my hair. “Good night, Ellie.”
She locked eyes with me, her expression almost unreadable. Silence fell between us, and in that stillness, I realized that the force drawing me to her was beyond the physical.
I was drawn not only to her body but also to her mind and soul. I felt a strange connection to her, one I couldn’t explain even if I tried.
She lowered her gaze and cleared her throat, as if to ease the growing tension in the air.
I turned around and was almost at the door when I stopped in my tracks. “Oh, and, uh…you’re not useless.”
I let the words sink in for a beat before picking up my pace and leaving.