Chapter 20 – Val
It’s official. I’m a wanted man by the Bratva.
The very organization that I’d dedicated my life to was after me now. It was my fault. I underestimated Akim Antosha and the lengths he would go to make me suffer. The man hated a challenge. He loathed people standing up to him and loved to make an example of anyone who dared to do so.
He’d successfully turned the council against me, made them believe that I no longer deserved to be one of them. Akim tainted the reputation I spent a lifetime building with one stupid rumor. That I was under the control of the woman I was supposed to have killed.
Akim Antosha made people believe that I abandoned my role as a Bratva leader over some American woman. The story was that Wren was caught taking incriminating photos of our operations under my watch. The rules were: no witnesses.
I was supposed to have killed her the second I was informed of the leak. Instead, I took her in, pampered her, let her disrespect me and my men without consequences. When my lieutenant, Luka, couldn’t take it anymore, he dug into her and found out she was working for a rival gang.
According to the story, the photos Wren took were no accidents at all. She took them because the plan was to expose our activity to the public.
These accusations didn’t end there. No.
Akim’s version of the story wasn’t too far from the truth, and so it sounded believable. He told them that the rival gang was the cause of the attack on my mansion. And that Wren was the informant from within who gave the information on when and how to attack.
Two of my loyal men were killed, and a couple of others were severely injured during the attack. He told them Wren was the brain behind all of it and that the plan was to make it look like she was the target so she’d gain my trust and sympathy.
They dubbed her a manipulator and accused me of being so naive for not seeing through her tricks.
Then, to crown it all, Akim declared me wanted for the murder of Luka Udinov, my right-hand man. He accused me of killing Luka in a bid to protect my so-called wife.
Rumor had it that Wren had attacked him while I was away because she knew he was on to her. Luka had no choice but to fight back, even though she was a weaker vessel and he would never hit a woman.
I happened to return home in time to meet the fight, and driven by my rage, I defended the enemy.
Luka didn’t want to fight me out of his respect for me, and so he didn’t land a single punch.
I, on the other hand, didn’t hold back. Even when he was down, I mounted him and beat him to death with my bare hands.
When I heard this perverted and twisted version of what really happened, I knew then that I didn’t prepare well enough for Akim Antosha. I underestimated the old man. I’d always known he was a manipulator, and for the first time, I didn’t see an attack coming from a while away.
Manipulation 101: Half-truths were always the best lies.
A few tweaks here and there, and the truth became a lie—one so carefully crafted it was enough to fool many. In this version, Luka was the hero, Wren was the villain, and I was the puppet caught in between.
Akim Antosha turned the situation in his favor, demonized me, and dragged my name through the mud. I’d been playing his game from the very moment I chose to marry Wren. Every decision I made since that day, every step I took, every action I made was designed to lead to this moment.
His plan was orchestrated so well that even I didn’t see it coming until it was too late.
My thoughts weren’t my own; my plans and actions weren’t my own. I was just doing exactly what Akim wanted without even knowing it. I thought that I was free when, in fact, the bastard was controlling me the whole time.
Akim was a master at this game, and I’d lost to him. I lost because I didn’t prepare enough; if I had, I would’ve anticipated all of this beforehand. I lost it all in one single sweep: my power, my name, my dignity, and my freedom. All for what? A woman I hardly even knew?
Was it worth it? Was she worth the sacrifices?
Yes, she was.
All of this was my fault. I was the reason her life was such a mess. If I hadn’t kept her locked up in the mansion longer than she should’ve been, none of this would’ve happened. But it was useless crying over spilled milk. The deed was done, and there was no reversing it.
She was my wife now, and as her husband, it was my job to keep her safe and provide for her. So, yes, she was worth all the sacrifices.
“Where are we going?” Her voice snapped me out of my thoughts.
I looked at the front passenger seat where she sat, seatbelt fastened. “Some place safe,” I answered, eyes fixed on the lonely road ahead.
She didn’t ask more questions; she rested her head against the glass and looked out the window.
The car’s tires whispered over the pavement, the road snaking through the canopies of towering trees. We’d been driving for hours since we left the mansion with some clothes, and this was the first time Wren was asking where I was taking her.
It was no longer safe back at home with a target now on my back, so we had to disappear. No one knew where we were going; that information was classified.
About twenty minutes later, we reached our destination, a safehouse tucked deep within the forest, surrounded by trees and nature. The building sat beneath the canopy, the walls softened by moss and weathered wood.
I brought the car to a stop in front of the cabin and turned in her direction. “We’re here.”
She looked out the windshield, eyes squinting. “Where’s ‘here’ exactly?”
“It’s an old safehouse I set up in case I ever needed to lay low. I guess it wasn’t a bad investment after all.”
She scanned the surroundings, skepticism flickering in her gaze. “Who else knows of this place?”
“No one,” I answered. “I told you, it’s a safehouse.”
One after the other, we stepped out of the car and closed the doors behind us. I walked over to the trunk, popped it open, and withdrew the duffel bag inside. She looked around, palms rubbing her shoulders as she drank in the beauty of Mother Nature.
The air smelled of damp earth and pine, and the only sounds out here were birdsong and the distant rush of a nearby stream.
“Come on.” I headed toward the cabin, shoes scuffing against the gravel path winding toward the porch, half swallowed by leaves and roots.
I unlocked the door, and it creaked open, revealing the stuffy interior. A foul stench drifted into my nostrils as dust particles swirled in the air.
“It smells like something died in here,” she said, burying her nose in her elbow.
“Maybe something did die,” I answered, walking inside.
“Great,” she murmured under her breath.
Dirt covered every surface of the room, and pale sheets were hanging over the furniture. Cobwebs clung to all objects in the room, from the smallest to the largest. Not a single item was spared.
“When did you say the last time you were here was?” she asked, seeing the amount of work that needed to be done.
“I didn’t,” I answered, setting the duffel bag on the nearest table.
Her shoes clicked against the wooden floor as she strolled over to the kitchen. I stood in the middle of the room, rolling up the sleeves of my shirt, ready to get to work.
The sound of running water caught my attention, and I turned toward the kitchen where she was standing by the sink.
She looked at me and said teasingly, “Huh. Would you look at that? Guess someone paid the water bill.”
I chuckled lightly. At least the plumbing was still alive. Now, we could rule out the water supply from the list of our problems. That’s a good thing.
She flicked the light switch off and on multiple times, but it didn’t come up. “Power’s out.”
“Don’t worry, there’s a backup generator out back,” I said, nodding toward the yard.
For a moment, she stared at my rolled-up sleeves, then said, “You might wanna lose the shirt. Unless you plan on trashing it after the cleanup.”
I paused, eyebrows knitting together. “Trashing it? This is one of my favorite shirts.” I glanced down at it.
“Then take it off,” she said, shedding her jean jacket.
A quiet scoff escaped my lips, and I did as she suggested, stripping myself from the waist upward. Her eyes lingered on my body for a while before she blinked and cleared her throat.
“Why don’t we start?” she asked, looking at the mess around.
We spent the next hour or so cleaning up the cabin.
The tension between us completely wore off as we worked together to fix this place.
She did the sweeping, and I did the heavy lifting.
Every now and then, she’d make a silly joke—some were funny, some weren’t—but at least she kept the conversation going.
With each passing minute, I felt our connection deepen, and our bond grew stronger. I hadn’t done any domestic chores in decades. But today, I was a plumber, fixing pipes, and an electrician, fixing the lightbulbs, wires, and cables.
It took a few attempts to finally kick-start the backup generator after long minutes of struggle and swearing at the damn thing.
She stuck her head out the window and yelled, “Hey, genius! We’ve got power. You can stop cursing at it now!”
I headed back inside, brushing dirt off my hands. By now, the place was almost livable; the furniture was clean, the floor was mopped, and the air smelled better than before with faint traces of the fresh flowers outside. The windows were wide open, and a cool breeze drifted into the room.
Wren was crouched before an old black-and-white TV, frowning at the knobs. She looked confused, unsure of what button to push. Her hand smacked the side of the TV as she murmured some curse words.
When she noticed me, she stopped and stared at me. “The damn thing won’t work. How do you even turn it on?”
I let out a soft chuckle and approached, then flicked a switch she’d overlooked. The screen buzzed to life in a wash of static.
“Oh. I…I didn’t realize that was there.” She cleared her throat, a bit embarrassed.
“Of course you didn’t. You Gen-Zs aren’t used to stuff like this,” I teased, resting my hand on top of the TV.
She laughed, and her eyes lit up with mirth. “How ironic, coming from a man who almost lost a fight to a generator.”
“That thing back there is old,” I said, my tone mild and defensive.
She raised her eyebrows. “So is the TV, Grandpa.”
I lowered my head, lips pursed to suppress my smile. “Fair enough,” I whispered to myself.
“Well….” She drew a deep breath with arms spread wide. “Can’t blame a girl for being born in HD.”
I watched her sink into the sofa with a genuine smile on her face. She should be mad about our present situation. But for some reason, Wren found a way to ease our tension and anxiety. Because of her free spirit, there were no dull moments throughout the cleanup.
And honestly, this was the happiest I’d felt in a really long time. My name was in the mud, Akim was hell bent on finishing me off, and my empire was in shambles. Yet, none of that mattered to me at the moment. All that I needed and would ever need was right here in this cabin.
I held her gaze and said nothing, simply standing there, soaking in her beauty. Wren was the light in my darkness, and nothing could keep me from her.
Later that night, after dinner and separate showers, she watched the black-and-white TV for a while before falling asleep on the couch. I sat by the fireplace, gun in reach as I watched the gentle rise and fall of her chest.
At that moment, I wasn’t thinking about Akim Antosha and all he’d stolen from me. All I could think of was how to keep this woman safe and protected. At any cost.