Chapter Twelve
Kirill
Dima and I stand outside the warehouse, surrounded by my loyal men.
All the clues these fuckers have left behind lead us here. It is clear that they wanted us to find them. Which also means that they will be expecting us.
It also means they’re using Tiana as leverage to get to you, dolboyob.
I know it’s me they want. But the fact that Tiana has to suffer the consequences of that makes my blood boil. I dragged her into this shit, then I fucking failed her. Over and over again.
Blyad!
I clench my jaw and force myself to focus on the task ahead.
If I had my way, I would blow up the whole fucking place, with every spineless Petrov bastard inside.
Except I can’t do that. Not when Tiana is inside.
The only way to get her back is to go in, kill anyone who gets in my way, and get her out.
I grit my teeth as a surge of adrenaline courses through me at the thought.
I’m on the hunt, and nothing will stop me from getting my woman back. Not even Vlad fucking Petrov.
“This is the place,” I grit out.
Dima nods, fixing his attention on the building ahead of us. “You know they’ll be waiting, right?”
“Da.” Of course I know but it doesn’t bother me. I’ve been waiting to face these motherfuckers for a long time. In fact, my lust for their blood is drawing me like a rabid beast snapping at the end of a chain.
Dima gives another curt nod, then raises a hand, gesturing to the men lining up behind us. Dozens of shapes flit through the shadows, circling the sprawling structure.
“Move in,” I say under my breath a second before I spring to my feet and surge forward. I’m incensed, out for blood – enemy blood. I don’t bother looking back to see if the others are following. I know that they are.
Less than a minute later, we’re in.
We storm the warehouse, guns blazing. It only takes a few seconds for the bullets to start hailing down in response to our assault.
It’s a few seconds too long. The two men at the door go down without getting a chance to scream.
I put a slug between the eyes of one while Dima slashes the throat of the other, arterial blood spraying out in an arc.
It spatters my face and my clothes, but I leave it, not caring that it dries on my skin as I bolt through the door.
If anything, it’s better that I’m covered with the blood of my enemies.
It will take a psychological toll on any fucker who dares to stand up to me.
There are more men on the inside, but I don’t think that Petrov was prepared for me to come at him with full force.
There can’t be more than twenty of his thugs out here.
One of them charges at me, a snarl on his face.
I can see the madness in his eyes, the desperation.
He’s a cornered animal, and he’s ready to fight to the death.
I can respect that. But it won’t save his life.
I sidestep his clumsy lunge, my movements fluid and precise.
He stumbles past me, his momentum carrying him forward.
I don’t give him a chance to recover. I grab the back of his head and slam his face into the nearest wall.
I hear the crunch of bone and cartilage, before he goes limp in my grip.
I drop his corpse to the floor, already turning to face the next threat.
“Kirill!” Dima’s shout has me spinning in his direction.
There are more of them now, pouring out of the shadows like hungry hyenas.
With so many of our men milling about, it’s not a good idea to be raining lead.
So, I draw my knife, the blade glinting in the dim light.
It’s a beautiful weapon, perfectly balanced and razor-sharp.
I’ve taken many lives with it, and I’ll take many more before this night is through.
The first man to reach me swings a wild punch, but I’m ready for him.
I manage to dodge the blow and counter with a swift strike to his throat, crushing his windpipe.
He gurgles, clutching at his neck as he falls to his knees.
I don’t bother finishing him off. There are too many others to deal with, and he’s not going to be a threat for a while.
I sprint through the crowd, my knife flashing in the darkness. I take down one man after another, my movements a blur of violence and precision. It makes me feel alive, invigorated. This is what I was made for. This is who I am.
But even as I fight, I can’t shake the feeling that something is off. These men are well-armed, well-organized, but there are too few of them. They’re not the usual rabble that Petrov sends after me. There’s something more going on here, something I can’t quite put my finger on.
I hear a shout from behind me and whirl around just in time to see one of my men go down. He’s been shot, a red blossom spreading across his chest. I snarl, my rage boiling over. These fuckers will pay for that, too.
I charge toward the shooter, my knife held low. He tries to fire again, but I’m too fast for the fucker. I close the distance between us in a heartbeat, my blade slicing through the air. He has just enough time to register the look of pure fury on my face before I gut him like a fish.
I don’t stop there. I keep moving, cutting down anyone who gets in my way. I can hear Dima shouting orders, rallying the men.
But even as I fight, the feeling that something is wrong continues to linger. There’s a tickle at the back of my mind, a nagging suspicion that I can’t quite place. And then it hits me.
She’s not in here.
I don’t see Tiana anywhere among the chaos. My heart clenches in my chest, a cold dread settling over me.
Where is she?
What have they done with her?
I fight my way through the last of the attackers, my mind racing. I have to find her whatever it takes. Every second she’s out of my sight means her life is in danger.
I hear a noise behind me and spin around, my knife at the ready. But it’s not an attacker. It’s Dima, his face grim.
“Boss,” he says, panting heavily. “We have a problem.”
“What is it?” I demand, my voice harsh.
“This is a diversion,” he confirms the odd premonition I’d been feeling. “They’ve taken her somewhere else.”
Motherfucker.
I feel a white-hot rage surge through me as my suspicions are confirmed. It feels like a primal fury that threatens to consume me.
I’m coming for you, Ptichka.
I’ll burn down this fucking city if I have to.
“Where?” I growl, my knife clenched tightly in my hand.
“I don’t know, Boss.” Dima says, shaking his head. “We haven’t found any clues.”
I nod, my jaw clenched. I can feel the adrenaline coursing through my veins, the bloodlust that has always been a part of me. Every minute we spend here is another minute my woman has to spend at the mercy of Vlad Petrov. I can not rest until I have her back.
“Find me someone who can still speak.” I turn to my men, my voice cold and deadly.
It’s probably a tall order. We’ve flattened pretty much everyone in our path.
But it’s not too long before I hear a strangled scream.
There’s the sound of a scuffle and then something being dragged across the bare floor.
Yuri, my head of security, emerges from behind a pile of crates; he has someone by the back of his collar and is hauling the kicking bastard in our direction. Yuri dumps him at my feet, putting a foot on his chest to pin him to the floor.
I stare down at the man cowering before me, his eyes wide with apprehension.
He’s one of the few still breathing in this warehouse, and he knows it.
He also knows that he’s only alive because I want something from him.
But there’s a gaping hole in his gut, and I know he’s not going to last much longer. I have to work fast.
“Where is she?” I growl, my voice low and dangerous.
The man’s lips tremble as he tries to speak, but no sound comes out. His face is ashen, a gray tint to his skin hinting at devastating blood loss. I grab him by the collar of his shirt and haul him to his feet, my fingers digging into his flesh. He gives a sharp scream.
“Where is she?” I repeat, my voice louder this time.
The man’s eyes dart around the room, taking in the carnage that surrounds us. He knows that he’s next if he doesn’t give me what I want.
“Help me,” he chokes out, trying to clutch a hand over his belly, “I need a doctor.”
I tighten my grip on his collar, my eyes boring into his. “Where. Is. She?”
The man swallows hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat as he tries to draw breath. When he doesn’t respond, I press my hand over his wound, pushing down roughly. He gives another hoarse scream.
“Aaaaaah! Poshel na khuy, Vyronov! Fuck you and your little Bratva!”
“You are going to die, pizda ,” I roar. “You know it, and I know it!” I glance down at where blood is pulsing past my hand and then meet his eyes again. “The question is; will your death be fast and painless,” I press down again, “or slow and painful?”
He’s panting against the burgeoning pain, and then finally, he relents. “Petrov… has… another safehouse. She was taken there,” he says, his voice shaking. “He knows you are coming.”
Lucky for us, we hardly suffered any losses. But the bastard isn’t giving me anything I haven’t figured out already.
“Where?” I demand, giving him a shake.
He jerks, gasping for breath. “I… don’t… know! I swear! He only tells us… what we need… to know!”
I stare into his eyes for a moment, watching as the fight fades from them.
“You are no good to me, then.” I release him, shoving him away from me. He stumbles and falls to the ground, landing in a heap at my feet as he gurgles out his last breaths. I turn to Dima, who’s been standing silently beside me.
“Get the location,” I say, my voice cold and emotionless. “Pull some strings if you have to. One of your contacts will know.” Dima’s ability to gather intel sometimes seems supernatural; he has more connections than anyone I know in this business.
Without a word, he pulls out his phone and dials a number.
He speaks quickly and quietly into the receiver, his eyes scanning the room as he does so.
When he’s finished, he dials another number, then another.
About ten long minutes and several phone calls later, he slides his phone back into his pocket and walks up to me.
“I found it, Boss,” he says. “It’s an old office block that belongs to one of Petrov’s cover businesses. About a thirty minute drive from from here.”
I nod, my mind already racing ahead to what we’ll find at the location.
If they have harmed so much as one hair on her head…
Another swirl of rage rises. I’ve had enough of this fucking war.
It’s been going on for years, ever since my time with Zoya.
It’s time to put an end to it. It’s not even safe for my woman to set foot on the streets without being in danger.
This bullshit has gone too far. I’m putting a stop to it today, even if I have to kill every last one of them.
I look at Yuri. “Clear this place out. Find any survivors. Leave no one breathing.”
He dips his head in assent without question and moves back into the carnage of the warehouse. Gunshots ring out. I ignore them.
“Move out,” I say, turning to the rest of my men. “We’re ending this today.”