Chapter 5 #2
I might be big for my age but I’m no match for the mercenaries in front of me.
A fist flies and hits my temple, white stars appearing at the edges of my vision.
I shake my head and throw my body at my assailant, taking him to the floor.
He grunts. Taking advantage of his surprise, I straddle his massive chest and pummel his face, hidden behind a black face covering.
“Igor!”
Lana’s cry breaks my focus. I lift my head, losing a precious second. The man I had pinned down pushes me off him and runs the short distance to the car while his accomplice carries my friend to the other side.
She’s fighting, legs flailing, but her abductor has one arm across her stomach and arms, carrying her with her back against his chest. His other hand presses her cheeks together in an attempt to muffle her cry for help.
I will take that fucking hand. The left one first and the other for good measure.
I call out her name. She struggles harder against the man.
“Don’t be a fucking hero,” the attacker says as he holds me at gunpoint while his colleague pushes Lana into the car. She yelps.
An unsettling calm spreads through my veins. I raise both hands in surrender, and nod. It’s not for this asshole’s benefit. I hope Lana can see it. I will never let anything happen to her. As long as I live, she’ll be safe.
The man takes my gesture as capitulation and steps backwards to the waiting car. They have barely closed the doors and dashed away when I turn to the BMW parked across the street. The one with a key hole on the driver’s door. An old model I can easily break into, but fast enough that I can follow.
I need to be quick.
My fingers are steady as I take my kit from my backpack and open the car door. Another few seconds lost to start it. Then, I drive like my life depends on it. I don’t even care that Pietro will kill me if anything happens to Lana. I will kill myself before I let some random assholes hurt her.
I dial my boss’s number.
“Igor, what—”
“Pietro, you need to follow my phone. Lana’s been taken.”
Pietro Moretti isn’t a man prone to outbursts of anger and emotions. His rage seeps through the phone and into the car with me, feeding my own, already simmering low.
“Tell me you have eyes on them, son.”
I grind my molars, and ignore what he just called me.
I don’t see the assailants’ car, but there aren’t many roads out of Sant Armellu.
The Harbour is too crowded; the hills are our usual road back to the Moretti mansion from Downtown, and will already be filled with our men spreading to catch the kidnappers.
That leaves the beach side. It’s a gamble, but I rush through the quiet streets.
“I’m heading towards the beachside. Can you clear the way?”
“Already on it.”
Nothing will stop Pietro from getting Lana back. Nor me.
Green light after green light greet me on my way. I speed, hoping I won’t hurt anyone. My goal is my friend. Collateral damage might be inevitable.
“Yes!” I shout into the car when I get the black sedan without license plates in my field of vision. They drive at a leisurely pace, probably trying to be inconspicuous despite the absence of identification.
No one on Kalliste is suicidal enough to go against the Morettis, so either these guys are mercenaries from outside and I can bank on them not knowing these roads as well as I do.
Or, it’s worse, and they’re law enforcement, trying to make Pietro heel.
The Moretti patriarch owns the police force on the whole island, as well as a few politicians, but there’s always a dumb newbie thinking he can overthrow the king.
No matter who they are, they’ll be dead by morning now that I’ve set my eyes on them. And it will be all sanctioned by Pietro and whoever his allies are.
I lift my foot off the gas pedal slightly, gaining on them yet keeping a safe distance.
My heart speeds, rumbling harder than the engine of the car I stole.
Ahead of me, the stupid dead men walking take a right turn off a dirt road, hidden behind thick vegetation that scratches the side of their vehicle. Instead of continuing on the road to the beaches and to the next town, towards the airport, they get deeper into the mountains.
A slow smile stretches on my face.
Soon enough, Pietro’s voice comes out of the phone. It’s half a sigh, half a chuckle. “Are you armed?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Good. You’ll have no issues hunting, son.” His tone is deadly and menacing. “Keep at least one alive. We’ll need him for training this week.”
Whether these men are from Kalliste or not makes no difference.
They just entered a protected nature reserve, owned by the Morettis under the name of their Conservation Foundation.
Bea Bartoli’s pet project. No one knows her husband and Pietro fund it.
It’s technically private property, which means less hassle with the police when we inevitably kill the men.
I get out of the stolen car and leave it on the side of the road before stalking after them, keeping stealthy on my feet.
I seethe when I see them pull Lana by the arm and manhandle her. She’s bound and gagged, but her face is grave, no tears on her cheeks. This might be the first time she gets snatched in the middle of the day, but she’s used to the pressure of imminent threats.
She’s so young and already so brave. Many men would be begging. She doesn’t.
My nostrils flare, but I keep a steady breathing. I check my gun, making sure I’m ready and follow them as they move through the trees and bushes. There’s nothing around here, except for old shepherds’ structures dating back to the beginning of the twentieth century.
They’re local, then.
Fools.
The three men dressed in black keep glancing behind them as if they can sense me.
I remain hidden. I take aim, and shoot the one closing their little procession.
He falls, hitting the ground with a thud. His accomplices whirl and take aim at where I’m posted. I’m still invisible to them. But they have what’s most precious to me. Lana.
Within seconds, a gun is thrusted against her temple and I hear her whimper of fear, even so far out. I growl, the need for their blood a living beast inside my chest.
“Show yourself, or I shoot her.”
I remain still. Silent.
The vibrant green of the trees around us blur, my vision tunnelling to where they cluster, making it even easier to pick them apart. One bullet. I only need one bullet.
I aim.
Breathe in.
And shoot, hitting my target straight between his eyes.
Crimson seeps from the hole on his face the second it takes him to fall back with the impact.
When it’s only the third man, Lana held at gunpoint, and I, I step out of my hiding spot.
My gun hangs loose in my hand. My breathing is slow and my gait confident.
I’ve never killed a man before, yet the two lives I just took mean nothing to me.
I’ll be scared of what that means later.
Right now, all that matters is my friend.
Our gazes lock. Her shoulders drop. The vote of confidence in her posture is a boost of energy I need.
“You should flee while you still have time,” I tell him.
“I don’t listen to Russian scum.”
Insults have never really penetrated my skin. I was expecting so much of it when I first landed on Kalliste, and never got any. Over time, words I thought I deserved to hear but braced for anyway lost their meaning. And especially from people I intend to kill.
I tilt my head to the side, regarding my target with icy calm. I pity him. He’s going to lose his life going after the most protected family on Kalliste. A futile endeavour. Whatever his goal is, he would have never made it. Some people are marked by death, I guess.
Visibly agitated, the man points the gun at me.
That’s his mistake. I might have never been trained to kill a man—yet—but I know how to shoot and do it fast. I aim at his arm and pull the trigger before he has the time to ask me the inane thing he was about to. Ransom, if I’m guessing right. He seems like the type.
The bullet hits his shoulder and the attacker cries out in pain, dropping his weapon to clasp a hand around his wound.
Lana whirls and punches him in the nose. The sound of cracking bones and pain surrounds us. I’d be lying if the music doesn’t do something to me.
“Come here, kotik,” I tell her and she steps back, until she reaches me and I can place myself between her and the man on the ground, who scrambles to reach the gun he dropped.
I slam my foot on his hand, more cracking bones like crunching fall leaves under my weight. I wince. This gives me no joy. But he took my friend, the one I’ve sworn to protect. He deserves it.
The man lifts his eyes to mine and what he must see on my face has his eyes widen and his face blanching. “You’re sick.”
“I’m just getting started.”
I slam my boot to his face, and he collapses, unconscious.
I pick up Lana’s attacker’s weapon and slide it at the back of my sweats, then half-turn to my best friend, who’s holding herself with tight arms around her chest.
“Are you okay, kotik?”
She nods, but her lips tremble.
I approach slowly, then rub a hand up and down her arm. My throat clogs. I don’t know how to do the reassuring thing.
Turns out, I don’t need to do anything but be there for her.
“Can you hold me?” she asks.
I nod.
Her arms encircle my waist, a heavy sigh leaving her as she almost collapses into my arms. I’m still holding the gun that killed two men, an eye on my next victim lying there, waiting for Pietro’s team to come get him and bring him to our training centre.
“You’re safe.”
I repeat the words to Lana, as much for her as they are for me. With my empty hand, I soothe my friend—and myself—petting her hair and murmuring Russian words of affection. I don’t have them in any other language.
“Thank you for coming after me.”
I untangle my frame from her embrace.
“I’ll always come for you, sestrichka.”
Later, in the darkness of my room, I’ll wonder if calling her that nickname is a betrayal of my own brother. But right now, it feels right.
Her green eyes are vibrant but her face is ashen, taking the toll of today’s event.
“A new nickname?”
“Da. It means ‘little sister’.”
She smiles softly and sniffs. The bond between us grows thicker.
Tires screeching on the road break the moment.
“Over here,” I yell, hoping I’m not wrong and it’s Pietro’s men, not backup for the kidnappers.
My shoulders bunch, ready for another fight, and deflate as soon as I see Pietro and his brother Umberto rushing through the greenery to meet us.
Lana’s father throws himself at his daughter, holding her into his arms, silver lining his eyes.
The embrace is urgent and filled with fear.
I see him smell her hair like only a doting father would do to his favourite child.
He’d never admit it but I know. Doesn’t mean he doesn’t love his other three daughters but Lana, she’s the apple of his eyes.
A heavy hand lands on my shoulders.
“Well done, Igor,” Umberto says.
I can’t do anything but nod. Lana’s uncle’s never liked me.
He usually looks at me with suspicion but today, I’ve earned his respect and it sends me back to the kind of validation I would have wanted from my own dad.
I never got it, not that it matters now.
I swallow hard, unsure what to do with the strong longing unravelling inside my chest.
More men follow after the Don and his brother, hoisting the last man alive away, while I watch.
I know he’ll be my next lesson. I don’t look forward to it.
But I know what being a soldier for the Moretti requires.
The only difference with what would have happened to me back in Russia is that I’m part of the inner circle.
Is that all there is to it, though?
As though Pietro hears my doubt, he turns his attention to me and steps in front of me. His weathered hands frame my face, his green eyes intense. He says nothing. After a beat, he hugs me.
My lips tremble. I feel the tears coming up and clench my teeth as hard as I can.
I don’t want to betray my family.
I don’t want to betray Misha.
“Thank you,” Pietro whispers in my ear within the intimacy of our proximity. “You don’t know what you did. I will never forget it, figliolu.”
When we pull away from each other, he smiles kindly at me. A father’s smile. Then he slaps my cheek three times playfully, like a father would to a son who made him proud. I guess.
“We should talk about your future, tomorrow, figliolu.” He glances at Lana, who’s standing with Umberto. “She needs a bodyguard, and I don’t know anyone better fitted for the position.”
“It’d be my honour, sir.”
“Igor, it’s time you call me Pietro, no?”
I give him a shy smile. “I’ll try.”
It seems like another betrayal to my name. Yet, when I try it in my mind and look at the man who calls me ‘son’, it all feels right.
I don’t have much more time to ponder.
A body slams into mine, almost taking me to the ground.
I humph with the impact, body on high alert.
Until I smell that bubble bath scent that follows Julian everywhere he goes, especially right after a gruelling boxing session like we had…
fuck, how long was it? It must have been a few hours, not more.
Yet, it seems like another day entirely.
His warmth envelops me, and it feels so nice and soothing, like a cocoon. Until I realise he’s choking me with his arms around my neck.
“Jules…”
“Thank you for saving my best friend,” he says into my neck. His breath fans the juncture of my neck and shoulder and sends a shiver of unease down my spine. It must be unease. What else would it be?
When he remains exactly where he is, I hold him, too. His back muscles shift under my fingers, his shoulders bunching before they relax again. He sighs, like all he ever needed was a hug. From me.
Someone clears their throat and we jump away from each other.
I drop my eyes, incapable of meeting his gaze. My ears are hot and I stumble back. “I… I think Pietro’s calling me. I should…”
“Yeah. Yeah… Umh, okay. Thank you.”
Julian shakes his head before turning his back on me and squeezing Lana to his chest.
But not before I see the most perfect blush mar his cheeks and a sparkling in his baby blue eyes I could get addicted to.