29. Naomi
29
NAOMI
“ F yodor! What are you doing?!”
With little thought to my nakedness, I fly out of the bed and toward the grappling men. My hands close around Fyodor’s bulging bicep and I throw all my weight into trying to pull him away from Zasha. He releases Zasha with one hand only to shake my grip free, then he’s back strangling him with all the strength he has.
I stumble backward, tripping over a corner of the rug in the process, then I turn and scan the room for anything I can use to drive the two of them apart. While I’m searching, Zasha surges off the wall and into Fyodor’s grasp, causing him to stumble backward. They grapple like animals, ready to tear each other’s throats out. Like Titans, they clash with fists and more. Zasha ends up on the floor with Fyodor on top of him, punching him repeatedly. Then Zasha is on top, throwing elbows into Fyodor’s ribs.
They roll together, snarling and grunting as blow after blow is exchanged and landed with such power. Nothing in the room gives me what I need, but I do spot a silk robe draped across the sole chair that’s survived the fight.
I slide it on, covering myself up, and then I scream in fright as glass shatters behind me. It jerks me right back to the restaurant and my heart punches up into my throat. Spinning on the spot, Fyodor and Zasha are nowhere to be seen. Their fight has taken them out through the window, and they fight on the paving stones outside.
“Fyodor! Zasha!”
I hurry after them, barely feeling the glass that bites into the soles of my feet. They don’t hear me, too caught up in whatever testosterone-fueled battle this is. On their feet, they fly at one another and each step brings them dangerously close to the calm, dark water of the pool.
“Daniil!” I yell, praying that if Fyodor is here then Daniil must be too. It’s a stroke of luck when he comes sprinting from the house, flying across the grass and stones toward us.
“Stop it!” I scream, running forward. “You’re going to end up in the?—”
My teeth clack together as Fyodor’s elbow plows into my face, slicing my attempt to reach them. Pain explodes through my jaw and heat rushes to the point of impact at my lip. I stumble backward, my head spinning. It’s not until I fall backward and land on my tail bone that I cry out in pain.
Everyone pauses for half a second, and the brawl stops long enough for Daniil to force himself between the two battling men. He wrestles with them, trying to part them as Fyodor starts to yell.
“You asshole! You fucking shitbag! My daughter, you fuck. She’s my daughter and you nearly killed her! I’m going to kill you!”
Daniil gets both arms around Fyodor’s middle and hauls him backward, away from Zasha. Zasha, thankfully, has enough sense not to follow. He stands, panting with blood pouring from his mouth and a fat split on his lips.
Climbing to my feet, I tighten the tier around my waist and dart forward, trying to keep myself between Zasha and Fyodor who twists furiously in Daniil’s hold.
“What the hell is going on?” I demand, ignoring the trickle of warm blood from the wound at my lip. “Can we just—take a breath and use our fucking words?”
My jaw throbs and my head aches from being woken up so abruptly. Confusion swirls like fog in my chest but thankfully, Fyodor appears to be calm enough that Daniil can release him, although he stays attached to Fyodor’s side as if ready for another attack.
Fyodor turns away and paces like a caged animal being denied the kill, so Daniil turns to me, and his face is unreadable.
“We tracked down the group that did the drive-by,” he says.
“And? Who was it?”
Daniil’s attention shifts to Zasha. “Zasha’s men.”
“Bullshit,” Zasha spits, then he has to spit for real as blood floods his mouth.
“It’s the truth,” Daniil bites out. “We have a few in custody. They belong to the pocket of men still loyal to you, Zasha, and they’ve been trying to find you ever since you disappeared. Somehow, they knew you were here, and they did the drive-by to try and kill Fyodor. I suppose they thought his death would leave this place open for them to come and rescue their Pakhan.”
It’s a lot to take in, and nausea bubbles under my tongue. “That…that car was driven by Zasha’s men?” I look at Zasha.
His face is open in honest shock, disbelief clinging to his features even as he wipes at his wounds. “How? How do they even know I am here? I’ve had zero contact with the outside world since I arrived here. I swear down on my life that I have never spoken to a soul!”
Honesty clings to his words, but when Fyodor turns to face him, the rage in his eyes is clear. There is nothing Zasha can say to make Fyodor believe him. He’s too blinded by rage, by the pain of Dariya’s condition.
“If…if Fyodor has been absorbing my people and some of my businesses, then maybe it was a lucky guess, but I swear. I haven’t spoken to anyone. I swear it!”
“You’re a liar!” Fyodor snarls, surging forward but he’s blocked by Daniil who keeps him back. “You’re a shit-eating liar! My baby—” Fyodor’s voice cracks and for the first time since the attack, tears glisten in his eyes.
My heart breaks and his earlier anguished howl echoes in my ears.
“My baby, my little girl is lying in a hospital bed with bullet holes in her. She’s hooked up to machines that are bigger than her and it’s my fault.” Fyodor slams his hands against his chest. “It’s my fucking fault because I took you in, you fucking rat! I brought you into my home, into my family, and this is how you repay me? You hurt my baby ?!”
A wretched sob tears out of Fyodor and he doubles over, as if the grief is causing him physical pain that he can’t handle. I half step forward, my arms aching to hold him, but Daniil sharply shakes his head.
Not yet.
“I should have left you to die ,” Fyodor snarls, lifting his venomous gaze back to Zasha. “I should have left your frozen corpse on that fucking road back in February. If you had died , my daughter would be—” Emotion cuts him off once more.
Zasha’s face crumples. From the pain that flashes across him, he looks like he agrees with Fyodor and that’s enough to convince me of his innocence. I don’t know how any of this happened or what the end goal is, but Zasha doesn’t look like he’s just won some kind of victory over Fyodor.
In fact, he looks as pained as Daniil does.
“Naomi?”
I blink slowly and Daniil is a few steps closer. “What?”
“You’re hurt.” He gently touches my jaw and pain flares sharply from the press of his fingertips. I wince and press my lips together, feeling the split flesh of my lower lip press against my upper lip.
“It’s nothing.”
“It’s not nothing,” he scolds gently. From there, the glare of one of the floodlights is so bright that I can see his eyes through his shades, and they hold such pain that my heart breaks further.
Everyone is hurting and there’s nothing I can do.
“Tell me how,” Zasha asks, snatching up a towel from the nearest pool recliner and covering his modesty by wrapping it around his hips. “Tell me how you know all this.”
Fyodor stiffens, wiping at his eyes and he looks ready to attack again until Daniil stands in his way. “We traced the car back to its origin. Turns out, we already had that place under surveillance because it was men loyal to you. Men that were trying to save you.”
“And how did they know,” Fyodor ground out. There was so much tension in his words that his jaw would surely snap if he kept his up much longer. “How would anyone know that you are here, huh?”
“I don’t know,” Zasha insists. “You have cameras here, right? You can track my every movement from the second I arrived here, but you will see that I have not betrayed you. Fyodor, you saved my life. I owe you, I would not do anything to harm you or your child!”
“Then why!” Fyodor yells, his voice bellowing through the night air. “Why is my daughter lying in hospital with two bullets in her chest? Why does it always come back to you?!”
A rusty squeak follows Fyodor’s words and the sound is so alien that we look to each other, seeking the source. No one has any metal on them that we can see.
Then, out from behind Fyodor, wheels his father, Vladimir. My heart plummets down to my ass while my stomach ties itself into painful knots.
What the hell is he doing here?
He approaches, flanked by several armed guards whose faces aren’t familiar to me. They must be Vladimir’s own men, and a coldness seeps across my shoulders as his beady eyes takes in each of us.
“The fuck?” Daniil mutters under his breath.
“My son, you want to know why your daughter is in the hospital?” Vladimir says, his words trembling as badly as his hand.
“Dad?” Confusion licks at Fyodor’s words and he reminds me of a distraught child finding their parent after being lost.
“Why don’t you ask her?” Vladimir lifts his trembling, claw-like hand and points directly at me. “Naomi Knight, the girl with all the answers.”
All three of my men slowly turn to face me, confusion etched on each of their faces. I mirror their confusion, and I tighten my arms around my body.
“Or,” Vladimir croaks. “Should I say, Naomi Yenin. That’s your real name, isn’t it?”