Chapter 26 Dimitri
DIMITRI
The clinic sits in a medical complex on the edge of the city.
It’s three stories of beige brick and tinted windows, surrounded by office buildings and parking structures.
It’s neutral territory with plenty of exits and most importantly, it’s surrounded by elevated positions where my men can set up overwatch.
Perfect for a trap.
I watch from a surveillance van across the street, banks of monitors showing feeds from sixteen different cameras from traffic cameras to building security. We installed the hidden cameras last night to ensure we had every angle covered and every approach visible.
My hands are clenched so tight my knuckles have gone white.
“Boss, you need to breathe,” Roman says from the driver’s seat. “You’re going to pass out.”
I scowl at him. “I’m fine.”
“You look like you’re about to have a stroke.”
“I said I’m fine,” I say sharply, but I force myself to take a breath. And another. It doesn’t help because Vera is in that building, and every instinct I have is screaming at me to go get her and pull her out before this stupid fucking plan gets her killed.
But we’re past that point now. The information was leaked twelve hours ago through channels we know Konstantin monitors.
Vera needs a specialized ultrasound for the pregnancy and I’ve only provided minimal security (just two guards) because our resources are stretched thin after the estate attack.
I’m unable to escort her because I’ll be in meetings across town, conveniently unavailable.
It’s irresistible bait.
Konstantin would be an idiot not to take it. And whatever else my uncle is, he’s not an idiot, which means this is going to get bloody.
On the monitor, I watch Vera walk through the clinic’s front entrance flanked by two guards (actually Sergei and Anton). She’s wearing dark jeans, a loose sweater that hides the slight curve of her stomach, and a wire so small you’d never know it was there.
Her voice comes through crystal clear in my earpiece.
“I’m in position,” she murmurs, barely moving her lips.
I key my radio. “Copy that. All units, we’re live. Stay sharp.”
Acknowledgments come back from twenty different positions from rooftops to office windows to vehicles. The Ashfords are in a parking structure across the street where Vincent and his men are positioned.
Forty men total, twenty Volkov and twenty Ashford. Both families united for the first time in decades.
And it’s all because of the woman on that screen.
Vera sits down in the waiting room and picks up a magazine. Her hands are steady, her breathing is calm. She looks completely at ease, like she does this every day.
But I can see the tension in her shoulders and the way her eyes keep flicking to the exits.
She’s scared shitless, but she’s doing it anyway.
“You doing okay?” I ask quietly into the comm.
“Peachy,” she says as she flips a page. “Just reading about celebrity divorces. Fascinating stuff.”
Viktor snorts. “She’s got balls, Boss.”
I choke out a laugh, but I feel my lips quirk in a small smile. “Don’t I know it.”
For twenty minutes, nothing happens.
Vera turns pages in the magazine. The clinic staff (actually undercover operatives we placed yesterday) move around doing fake medical tasks. Everything looks normal and boring and safe.
I watch the traffic cameras like a hawk, tracking every vehicle that comes within three blocks.
Then I see them.
Three black SUVs approach from the south, moving fast but not recklessly. My blood goes cold.
“We have vehicles approaching,” I announce. “Three SUVs, southbound on Madison.”
The facial recognition software pings on the lead vehicle. Konstantin’s face appears in a small box on my screen, riding in the passenger seat of the first SUV. Then the second vehicle shows Alexei behind the wheel, blond hair visible even through the tinted windshield.
“Confirmed targets in vehicles one and two,” I say, my voice tight. “Count at least... fuck. Thirty bodies minimum.”
Viktor curses in Russian.
This isn’t a snatch and grab. This is a war party.
“All units, be advised, approximately thirty hostiles incoming. Heavy resistance expected. Vera, get to the back room NOW.”
I hear the rustle of fabric, her quick footsteps on linoleum, and a door opening and closing which indicates she moved as fast as she could.
“I’m in the exam room,” she says, and I can hear the fear in her voice now. “Dimitri, thirty is a lot. I wasn’t expecting that.”
“I know.” I yank open the van door, Viktor and Roman right behind me. “Stay down and stay quiet. We’ve got you.”
“I trust you,” she says quietly.
Fuck, I love her. I love her so much it physically hurts and I’m about to put her in the middle of a war zone.
The SUVs screech to a stop outside the clinic in a formation that speaks of military training. Doors fly open before the vehicles fully stop, and men pour out wearing body armor and carrying automatic weapons. My heart seizes. They’re not even trying to be subtle.
I count heads through the camera feeds. There’s thirty-two men and all are heavily armed.
Konstantin steps out of the lead vehicle last, looking calm and confident. His gray hair moves gently in the wind and he wears an expensive suit under a long coat, like he’s going to a business meeting instead of a kidnapping.
Then Alexei jumps out from the second vehicle, those cold blue eyes scanning the area. My baby brother who I protected and loved more than anyone else in the world.
He betrayed everything.
They think they’ve won. They think this is over.
They’re about to learn otherwise.
“All units,” I say into the radio, my voice deadly calm. “Engage on my mark. Remember—Konstantin and Alexei are to be taken alive. Everyone else is expendable.”
Acknowledgments come back from my men and Vincent’s men. We’re ready.
Konstantin’s forces breach the clinic entrance with flashbangs and shouting—intimidation tactics designed to overwhelm.
Instead, they get a kill zone.
"NOW!" I roar.
The world explodes into violence.
My men open fire from concealed positions inside the clinic. The element of surprise is devastating and three of Konstantin’s men go down in the first seconds, blood spraying across the pristine white floors.
The others dive for cover, returning fire, and suddenly the quiet medical complex sounds like a war zone. Glass shattering. People screaming orders in Russian and English. The rapid staccato of automatic weapons fire.
“All units, engage! ENGAGE!”
I’m moving with Viktor and five others, entering through the north entrance while Vincent’s team closes in from the south. The Ashford forces hit them from behind in a classic pincer movement.
Konstantin’s men are good but they walked into a trap, and now they’re surrounded.
The battle spreads through the clinic like wildfire. I see one of Konstantin’s men trying to flank toward the back exam rooms—toward Vera—and I put two rounds in his chest before he makes it five steps. He goes down hard, weapon clattering.
Because we’re in a medical clinic it’s close quarters combat mixed with longer-range shooting. My wounded shoulder protests with every shot, but adrenaline overrides the pain. I move through the clinic like I’ve done this a thousand times before because, well, because I have.
Headshot. Body shot. One of Konstantin’s men tries to get behind me and Sergei silently and efficiently takes him out with a knife to the kidney. The body crumples.
Through my earpiece, I hear Vera’s sharp intake of breath. She can hear the violence but she can’t see anything.
“Do not move, Vera,” I order. “No matter what you hear, do not leave that room.”
“Okay,” she whispers shakily, her fear palpable even through the comm.
I force myself to focus. I can’t think about her fear or about what happens if someone gets through. I can’t think about—
Focus.
The fighting intensifies. Konstantin’s men are professionals. They adapt quickly, find cover, and coordinate their fire, but we have numbers and position, and we’re fighting for something more than money.
We’re fighting to end this.
One of my men goes down clutching his leg with a bullet through the thigh in an arterial spray. Anton drags him behind cover while returning fire.
Then one of Vincent’s men takes a headshot and he’s dead before he hits the ground.
This isn’t clean, but then again, war never is.
I reload, clear a jam and keep moving. There’s a rhythm to combat when you’ve done it enough—move, shoot, cover, reload. Don’t think or hesitate. Just survive.
I round a corner and nearly run into one of Konstantin’s lieutenants. He’s a big guy, with a shaved head, and a scar across his jaw. Recognition flashes in his eyes before he raises his weapon towards me.
I shoot him twice in the chest and he drops.
He doesn’t deserve mercy.
The battle pushes out into the parking lot. There’s more room to maneuver but also more exposure. I see Vincent across the lot, fighting with his men, and there’s something almost satisfying about seeing Vera’s father fighting to protect her and allying with the Volkovs.
The Ashfords are proving themselves capable allies. Marcus takes out two hostiles with controlled bursts. And Vincent himself drops a man trying to breach the clinic’s back entrance.
We’re winning. Slowly and bloodily, but we’re winning.
And then I see him.
Alexei.
He’s standing across the parking lot, gun in hand, surrounded by the remains of Konstantin’s forces. Our eyes lock, and for a moment time seems to stop.
My baby brother looks at me with cold calculation instead of love. The betrayal hits fresh and sharp, like someone’s driving a knife between my ribs.
Then he’s moving but not toward me. He’s moving towards the clinic, circling to the back entrance.
Toward the exam rooms where Vera is.
“Oh, you’re not getting near her,” I snarl.
I give chase, leaving Viktor to coordinate the main fight. Alexei disappears through a service entrance and I follow, weapon raised and clearly corners easily.