Chapter Fifty-Five #2
I stand amid the carnage, chest heaving, scanning for more threats. Six bodies litter the floor. A couple more by the staircase. Blood pools beneath my boots.
Too fucking easy.
Where’s Gianni?
It doesn’t take long to find out. Stella’s voice rings out sharply from the top of the old staircase. I can’t make out what she’s saying, but it’s definitely her. Relief floods me, though it’s quickly replaced by a surge of rage. She’s alive. But she’s not okay.
“Fucking stay still,” a voice drawls — smooth, arrogant, unmistakably Maranzano’s.
Ublyudok!
I exchange a glance with Sasha, and he nods, understanding my silent command. We’ll go in hard and fast, no room for negotiation.
The door at the top of the stairs is hanging wide open, and as we pause on the landing, the scene before me comes into sharp focus. There he is, the preening motherfucker. Gianni is standing facing the doorway, using Stella as a human shield, a gun to her head.
“I wouldn’t try anything if I were you,” his voice rings out.
Pizda!
I’ll cut his fucking balls off!
I slowly move inside, meeting Stella’s eyes across the room, wide and terrified. It knifes through me, seeing her like this — exposed, vulnerable, the cold barrel of Gianni’s gun pressed against her temple. Her belly swollen with my child. Our child.
Yobani Urod!
Red edges my vision, but I can’t start shooting.
Not while Gianni is using Stella’s body to protect his.
I want to tear the Italian apart with my bare hands, watch him bleed out slowly for daring to threaten what’s mine.
But I keep my expression cold, calculating.
This is not the time to barge in, guns blazing. One wrong move and I lose everything.
“Drop the gun, Maranzano. You’re outmatched.” My voice is ice, the calm before destruction.
Gianni’s laugh echoes in the cramped room. His fingers dig deeper into Stella’s arm, making her wince. Something primal rises in me at the sight.
“I don’t think so, Tarasov.” He shifts, using Stella’s body as a perfect shield. “You’re finally where I want you — trapped between your precious cargo and your famous fucking reputation.”
I don’t blink, don’t move a muscle. My Glock remains steady, aimed at the sliver of his head visible behind Stella’s hair. It would be a risky shot — too risky with Stella and our child in the line of fire.
“Let her go, and we can settle this like men.” I keep my voice even, reasonable. “This is between us.”
“Oh, I disagree.” His smile is reptilian. “Your little bitch here has been a problem for both of us. Did she tell you how she begged me for money to save his little brother? How she’d do anything? Maybe I should keep her after all.”
Stella’s eyes flash with hatred as she struggles against his grip.
I feel Sasha tense beside me, waiting for my signal. The room is a powder keg — one spark away from explosion — with Stella in the crossfire.
“Three seconds,” I say, each word deliberate. “Then I put a bullet through your skull.”
“Try it,” Gianni hisses, pressing the barrel harder against Stella’s temple. “See who drops first. Me, or your pregnant girlfriend.”
Fuck.
The standoff stretches, taut as a wire. One twitch of his finger, and Stella’s gone. My child’s gone. Everything I didn’t know I wanted until now— gone.
I’ve barely registered Sofia’s presence in the room until she suddenly shrieks from the corner, “Just fucking kill them, Gianni! They won’t risk shooting at you with the bitch in the way!”
The outburst yanks Gianni’s attention away for just a fragment of a second— his eyes darting toward Sofia, his grip on Stella loosening imperceptibly.
It’s all I need.
Instinct kicks in before sense or reason could. Time slows down as my vision is reduced to one single point in space. My finger squeezes the trigger once, precisely. The shot tears through the air, and Gianni’s gun explodes from his hand in a spray of blood and metal.
“Aaaaaah!” He howls, clutching his shattered fingers to his chest.
“Move!” I bark at Sasha.
He’s already in motion before the word leaves my mouth, surging forward like a hungry predator. I’m right next to him, crossing the room in three long strides. Stella stumbles away from Gianni as he reels backward, giving me a clean line of attack.
“Aaaah! Vaffanculo! ” He continues screaming, holding the bloody remains of his hand.
I silence him by driving my fist into his sternum with everything I have.
The impact cracks through the room, and air explodes from his lungs.
He doubles over, and I bring my knee up to meet his face with a satisfying crunch.
Blood sprays from his shattered nose as he collapses to the floor, spitting red painted mucus.
Sasha has Sofia pinned against the wall before she can flee, her arm twisted behind her back at a painful angle. She spits and curses in Russian, fighting like a wildcat, but Sasha’s grip is unbreakable.
I grab Gianni by his throat, slamming him against the concrete floor. His eyes bulge as I press my forearm across his windpipe, cutting off his air.
“You should have stayed away from what’s mine,” I growl, pressing harder. His face turns purple, veins bulging as he claws weakly at my arm.
“Aleksei!” Stella’s voice cuts through my rage.
I turn my head to see her standing a few feet away, arms wrapped protectively around her belly, eyes wide but steady.
My instincts scream at me to act — to break Gianni’s neck and get to her now, but I’m interrupted.
A buzz.
Then, another.
The vibration of my phone in my pocket is followed by insistent ringing. It cuts through the air like a blade, shattering the taste of my victory. It’s Dr. Malhotra’s ringtone.
Fuck.
If he’s calling me now…
I freeze, indecision paralyzing me. Why is he calling me now? If this is about Bobik…
The room has gone silent, only my phone continues ringing. I stand there with my forearm pressed against Gianni’s neck, caught in a cruel limbo — the weight of Bobik’s operation in one hand and this situation in the other. But the buzzing of my phone is impossible to ignore.
Malhotra should still be in surgery. If he’s calling now, it’s because… there’s a problem.
Blyad!
I can feel it as the color drains from my face. Ripping myself back a step, I snatch the phone from my pocket, my eyes never leaving Stella. The look in her eyes speaks of contempt, something I don’t understand, but I can’t ask her now.
“Watch them,” I tell Sasha, jerking my head at Gianni and Sofia. He already has his weapon trained on Gianni, who’s whimpering over his ruined hand. Sofia looks like a cornered snake.
“Speak,” I hiss into the receiver as I step out of the doorway.
“Aleksei,” Dr. Malhotra’s voice comes through. There’s an edge of tension to it that I don’t fucking like. “There’s a problem.”
My lungs seize.
No.
Please, God, no!
“What is it?” I ask, dread already unfurling.
The doctor pauses, his voice shaking slightly. “I’m afraid there’s been a complication during the surgery. Your son… I’m sorry, Aleksei. Bobik is in critical condition.”
The words crash over me like ice water. My throat constricts and my skin feels like it’s turning to ice beneath a cold sheen of sweat. “What do you mean, critical?” My voice rises, sharp and agitated.
The doctor sighs, clearly struggling to find the right words.
“The procedure… it didn’t go as planned.
We’ve done everything we can, but his condition has deteriorated.
You need to come back to the hospital immediately.
It might…” He hesitates, the next words coming out quieter, almost a whisper.
“This might be your last chance to see him alive.”
A roaring sound fills my ears as my body fights to process what I’ve just heard. I can barely think.
“No!” I hear myself saying.“I did everything ! Do you hear me? I made sure every precaution was taken, spent every damn cent I could to ensure this wouldn’t happen!” My voice cracks.
“I completely understand, but there’s no time to argue about this now. Your son needs you.”
Blyad!
He’s right!
Bobik needs me!
I swallow my fury and steel myself. “I’ll be there,” I say roughly before ending the call.
Bozhe moy!
What man should have to face this?
Me, that’s who.Penance for my crimes. And God knows I’ve committed enough of them.
“Handle this,” I bark at Sasha through the doorway, my own voice foreign to my ears. He blinks at me in confusion but I don’t have time to explain things to him. If there’s anyone who can deal with Gianni and Sofia, it’s him. He’ll keep Stella safe while I’m gone.
At least that’s what I tell myself because fuck, I don’t have any other options.
I spin on my heel, taking the stairs two at a time as I race back to my waiting vehicle.
One singular thought is driving me forward: Bobik.
There’s still time. There has to be time.
I won’t let it end like this. Not like this.
Critical condition.
Might be your last chance to see him alive…
I robotically leap into the driver’s seat, slam the door, and jam the key into the ignition. The engine roars to life, but before I can shift into drive, something happens: the cracking sound of gunfire erupts inside the warehouse — sharp cracks that cut through the air like blades.
“ Chto za khuy? ”
My hands freeze on the steering wheel.
A shout from Sasha — angry, urgent. More shots. Then another burst of gunfire, longer this time.
Yobani urod!
What now?
“Sasha!” I yell uselessly, knowing he can’t hear me.
I’m halfway out of the car when I hear it — Stella’s scream, high and terrified, slicing through me like a knife. Then, a dull thud. The way a lifeless body drops to the floor. I’ve heard it enough times to know exactly what it sounds like.
Then, there’s silence. Absolute fucking silence.
What the fuck just happened in there?
My blood in my veins turns to ice.
“No,” I whisper, the word barely audible even to myself.
The bitter smell of death circles around me, suffocating me, like it’s enjoying watching me as I lose everything. My phone vibrates again in my pocket — Dr. Malhotra calling back, no doubt wondering where I am while my son lies dying.
My son. My unborn child. Stella.
I’m being torn apart, pulled in opposite directions by two impossible choices. The hospital is twenty minutes away. Twenty minutes that Bobik might not have. But Stella—
I slam my fist against the dashboard, hard enough that pain shoots up my arm.
“ BLYAD! ”
More silence from the warehouse. I strain to hear anything — movement, voices, even more gunfire. Nothing. Just the pounding of blood in my ears and the insistent ringing of my phone.
If that scream means what I think it means...
I can’t finish the thought. If Stella’s gone, if our child is gone, I’ll burn this fucking city to the ground. I’ll hunt Sofia and that Italian prick to the ends of the earth. I’ll—
My phone stops buzzing, then immediately starts again. Bobik’s time is running out.
The bitter taste of choice fills my mouth.
I grip the handle of my car’s door so hard my knuckles turn white.
Every instinct screams at me to run back inside the warehouse.
What if Stella is hurt? Maybe she’s still breathing.
Maybe I can save her. But what if that means I’ll never see my son again? What if that means…
I know what Olga would say. The same thing Stella would say.
Go to Bobik.
This might be the last time you see him alive.
End of Part 1.
CLICK HERE to continue to Part 2.
I woke up pregnant in a stranger’s mansion. He says he’s the father. I don’t remember him at all.
My reflection in the mirror is a stranger too. The doctors call it temporary amnesia. The Bratva boss calls it a complication. I call it terrifying.
My body responds to his touch even when my mind doesn’t. But how do you trust a dangerous man who claims you belong to him? Something isn’t adding up.
Locked doors I’m not supposed to notice. Whispered conversations that stop when I enter a room. Guards watching me with suspicion, not protection.
Memories return in fragments. A car crash. My father’s body in a black bag. My mother insisting it wasn’t an accident.
As the fog lifts, I’m learning things that are better left forgotten. What if the father of my baby is also my father’s murderer? And what happens when he realizes I remember?
ONE CLICK - Continue to Part 2.