Chapter 26 Dimitri #2
The stairwell comes into view and I curse, not expecting that. He’s heading downstairs.
I take the stairs two at a time and burst through the basement door into a maze of storage rooms and medical waste disposal.
I take a moment to orient myself with my surroundings.
Concrete walls. Flickering fluorescent lights.
The sharp smell of disinfectant that makes my nose sting and something else.
And there—Alexei, spinning to face me with his gun raised.
We stare at each other. Brothers. Enemies. Everything we were and everything we’ve become compressed into this single moment.
“It didn’t have to be this way,” he says calmly, almost regretfully. “You could have stepped aside and let me lead. We could have ruled together. Konstantin promised—”
“Konstantin is a liar and a traitor,” I cut him off. My voice is deadly calm despite the rage churning in my gut. “And you’re a fool for believing him.”
“I’m a fool?” Alexei laughs and it’s bitter and harsh. “I’m not the one who got manipulated into marrying Vera. That was all part of the plan, you know. Get you emotionally attached and make you care about her and the baby so when we took them, it would destroy you.”
“Except I’m not destroyed.” I take a step closer. “I’m right here and you’re the one who’s lost.”
“Have I?” His finger tightens on the trigger. “Looks pretty even to me.”
“You faked your death,” I say, and each word is sharp enough to cut. “You let me think the Ashfords killed you. I fucking grieved you. You started a war and got innocent people killed. And for what? So Konstantin could use you as a puppet?”
Alexei’s cheeks turn red with anger “I’m nobody’s puppet!” he spits out.
“You always have been a puppet!” I shout. “You were never strong enough to lead or smart enough to see the big picture. You were the charming one. The fun one. But leadership?” I shake my head. “You don’t have it in you.”
His face twists with rage. “Fuck you, Dimitri. Fuck you and your—”
He fires.
I dive right behind a storage shelf, and return fire. Bullets tear through cardboard and metal, sending supplies scattering.
We’re circling each other through the basement. We both know each other’s moves since we were trained by our father (and then me).
But I’m bigger and stronger. and I’m fighting for something real.
Alexei’s fighting for pride. For validation. For the ghost of respect he’ll never actually earn.
We crash together behind a pile of medical waste containers, grappling hand-to-hand. Our guns go flying. It’s just fists and fury now.
He catches me with a right hook that makes my ears ring and I return with an uppercut that snaps his head back. We’re both bleeding with split lips and busted knuckles, and my goddamn shoulder feels like it's on fire.
Alexei lunges for me and we ram into storage shelves, sending supplies everywhere. He gets me in a chokehold but I drive my elbow back into his ribs until he lets go. We separate, gasping as we circle each other.
“We were brothers,” I say, spitting blood onto the ground. “I loved you.”
“You loved the version of me that stayed in your shadow,” he snarls, blood trickling from a nasty gash near his temple. “Not who I actually was.”
Maybe he’s right. Maybe I never really saw him or understood the resentment building beneath all that charm.
But that doesn’t matter now.
He lunges again and we go down hard, rolling across concrete. He ends up on top, pinning me, and his hands find my throat.
“I’m sorry,” he says, and he almost sounds like he means it. “I’m sorry it has to be this way.”
He starts squeezing and I buck my hips and flail, trying to get him off me but I’m too injured. My vision starts to darken. I claw at his hands but his grip is iron.
This is it. This is how I die, killed by my own brother in an improper chokehold in a fucking medical office basement.
I’m sorry, Vera. I’m so sorry.
BANG.
The gunshot is deafening in the enclosed space.
Alexei jerks and cries out as his grip on my throat loosens. He looks down at the blood blooming across his side—dark red spreading across his white shirt.
He looks up.
And there’s Vera standing in the doorway, holding a gun incorrectly again (I really need to fix that). Her face is pale but her eyes are blazing with fury.
“Get away from my husband,” she snarls.
Alexei stumbles off me, clutching his side. I scramble up, gasping for air, before putting myself between them.
“Sweetheart,” Alexei says, and his voice cracks and I fight the urge to knock him out for daring to use a pet name on my wife. The bastard is almost pleading. “Vera, please. I’m the baby’s father. That’s my child. You can’t—”
“No.” Vera growls, the gun still pointed in his face. “You’re the sperm donor. Dimitri is this baby’s father. He’s already more of a father than you’ll ever be.”
Alexei’s face transforms from a pleading ‘victim’ into pure rage. “You fucking bitch.”
He raises his gun at her.
I lunge forward, grabbing his arm, and slamming it against the concrete wall with all my strength until his fingers spasm and the weapon clatters to the floor.
It only took two times. Fucking whimp.
Then we’re grappling again but I’m only reacting now. He threatened Vera. He fucking pointed a gun at MY wife. At the mother of MY child.
Red consumes my vision.
I get him in a proper chokehold this time, arm locked under his chin, cutting off blood flow to the brain. He fights desperately, clawing at my arms, trying to break free.
“It’s over,” I say quietly in his ear. “It’s over, Alexei.”
He makes a choking sound. His struggles weaken before they slow and stop.
I hold him for another ten seconds after he goes limp, making sure he’s truly unconscious. Then I lower him to the ground and pull zip-ties from my pocket and secure his hands behind his back.
He’s alive but unconscious and I grunt with satisfaction.
This doesn’t end here in a basement. This ends publicly with both families watching. I turn to Vera. She’s still holding the gun, and she’s shaking so hard I can see it from here.
“Hey.” I cross to her and gently take the weapon. Her hands are ice cold. “Hey, it’s okay. You’re okay.”
“I shot him,” she whispers as if she can’t believe it. Her lips are bloodless. “I actually shot him.”
“You saved my life,” I tell her roughly, taking her hands in mine and blowing on them, trying to bring some warmth into them.
“I was aiming for his chest, but I hit his side instead,” she continues, her eyebrows knitting in frustration. “My aim really is terrible.”
A laugh bubbles out of me. “You hit exactly what you needed to hit this time, but yeah, your aim is shit, Vera.”
She looks up at me, and her eyes are bright with tears she won’t let fall. “I-is it over?”
“Almost, love.” I pull her against me with my good arm and press a kiss to her head. “Come on.”
I grab Alexei’s unconscious body by the collar and drag him toward the stairs. Vera follows close behind, and I can hear the battle above us winding down.
When we emerge into the parking lot the scene is chaos. There are bodies everywhere and I see some are Konstantin’s men, and some ours. The clinic is destroyed—windows shattered, walls pockmarked with bullet holes, and blood on the asphalt.
But we won.
Konstantin’s forces are either dead, captured, or fleeing. The survivors are being zip-tied and herded together by my men and Vincent’s.
I scan the area and spot Vincent immediately. He sees Vera and his face transforms from fear into relief. He rushes to her, pulling her into his arms, and she finally breaks, sobbing into her father’s shoulder while he strokes her hair and murmurs things I can’t hear.
I let them have that moment and turn my attention to the knot of men near the clinic entrance.
And there’s Konstantin.
My uncle is being held at gunpoint by three of his own former men. Men who chose truth over loyalty to a traitor.
Konstantin looks defeated, but there’s still that calculating gleam in his eyes as I approach. Like he’s looking for an angle, a way out.
Anger courses through me. The fucker is always scheming and planning, right up to the end.
“Nephew,” he says, and the casual use of the title makes my fist clench. “I’m impressed. You executed this better than I expected.”
I don’t respond. Instead, I fix him with a stare.
“It’s not too late,” he continues, his voice smooth and reasonable, like we’re negotiating a business deal. “We can still work together and split the territory. Both families under our control—you and me, like it always should have been. Alexei was a mistake, yes, but we can fix this. Together.”
I should shoot him right here for the absolute fucking cheek.
“No,” I say simply.
His smile falters. “Dimitri, be reasonable—”
“It ends now,” I cut him off. “For both of you. For what you did. For who you killed. For what you tried to take from me.”
I look at my men. “Take them to the estate. Both of them. We finish this at home.”
“Yes, sir.”