Chapter 26
CHAPTER 26
I press my back against the cold concrete wall, trying to make myself smaller. Hours have passed since the silent guard shoved a metal tray with cold soup and stale bread through the slot in the door. I barely touched it, my stomach too knotted with fear to eat even though I was hungry some hours ago.
"Jessica?" I say, tapping our childhood code against the wall again. Nothing. The silence from her cell terrifies me more than anything Ivan might do to me. Why isn't she answering?
My eyelids grow heavy as exhaustion pulls at me. I slide lower down the wall. Maybe I can rest, just for a moment...
A crash outside the door jolts me awake. Men's voices—angry, struggling. Something heavy slams against the wall.
"Get him down!" someone says, followed by the sound of a fist connecting with bone.
My heart pounds against my ribs as I scramble to my feet. I scan the barren cell frantically—concrete floor, concrete walls, a metal toilet bolted to the corner, exposed pipes running along the ceiling. Nowhere to hide, nowhere to run.
"Check the other rooms!" a voice commands, closer now.
I back into the farthest corner, eyes fixed on the door. The lock rattles. I grab the metal tray from the floor, clutching it with white knuckles. It's flimsy, pathetic, but it's all I have.
"She's in here somewhere," a man growls outside.
More shuffling, a grunt of pain. The lock clicks.
I raise the tray like a shield, my breathing shallow and quick. Who's coming through that door? Ivan's men? Or worse—Ivan himself?
The door swings open. Light floods the dark cell.
I squint against the brightness, the tray shuddering in my hands.
A silhouette appears in the doorway, tall and imposing. My eyes struggle to adjust to the sudden light but there's something very familiar about the shape, the stance.
"Evelyn." His voice breaks through the haze.
I blink rapidly, still clutching the pathetic metal tray. It can't be. My mind must be playing tricks, conjuring what I want to see after hours in this darkness.
"Evelyn," he says again, stepping closer, his face coming into focus.
Noah.
The tray slips from my fingers, clattering to the ground. I stare at him, frozen in disbelief. His shirt is torn at the shoulder, a streak of blood on his cheek, but it's him. Noah is here, standing in front of me, his dark eyes scanning my face with unmistakable relief.
"Are you—?" I start, my voice cracking from disuse and emotion. "Are you real?"
He moves toward me and I flinch instinctively, still not trusting what I'm seeing. He stops, understanding flickering across his face.
"I'm real," he says, his voice gentler. "I'm here."
I reach out a trembling hand, needing to touch him to believe. My fingertips brush his chest, feeling the solid warmth beneath his shirt, the rapid beating of his heart.
"Noah," I whisper, finally accepting what I'm seeing. "How did you?—?"
"Later," he cuts me off, glancing back towards the hallway. "We need to move. Now."
The reality of our situation crashes back into me. "Jessica," I blurt out. "She's here, in the next cell. And Michael?—"
"Matteo's got your sister," Noah says, reaching for my hand. "Alessio is checking the other rooms."
I take a step toward him, my legs unsteady after sitting so long. Noah's arm wraps around my waist, supporting me without hesitation.
Noah's eyes lock with mine, something fierce and unguarded burning in them. He pulls me closer, his hand gripping my waist like he's afraid I might disappear. "Don't ever do that again," he says, his voice rough with emotion. "Do you understand me? Never again."
I want to argue, to remind him that Jessica is my sister, that I had no choice. But the raw pain in his expression stops me.
"I thought—" His jaw clenches and he looks away for a moment before meeting my eyes again. "I thought I'd lost you."
"Why would that matter?" I say, needing to hear him say it.
Noah's hand comes up to cup my face, his thumb brushing over my cheekbone with unexpected tenderness. "Because I would burn the entire world to find you if necessary, Evelyn. Every building, every street, every city—I'd reduce it all to ashes until you were back with me."
My breath catches. The intensity in his eyes makes my knees weak. "You walked into the devil's house for your sister," he continues, his voice dropping lower. "And I walked into hell itself for you. Don't you understand yet? There's nowhere you could go that I wouldn't follow. No one who could take you that I wouldn't destroy."
His words should terrify me. This possessive, all-consuming devotion should make me want to run. Instead, something inside me—something I've been fighting since the moment he took me—finally surrenders.
"I didn't think anyone would ever fight for me," I admit, my voice barely audible.
"I'll fight for you until my last breath," Noah promises, his forehead touching mine. "You're mine to protect. Mine to cherish. Mine to keep safe, even from yourself."
His words wrap around me like a cloak, making me feel safer than I have in years. Despite everything—the danger, the violence, the impossibility of our situation—I find myself leaning into him, drawing strength from his certainty.
I'm pressed against Noah's chest, his arms wrapped around me like a fortress. For the first time since walking into Ivan's townhouse I feel a flicker of hope. Noah came for me. He actually came.
"This is so sweet. Really, it warms my heart." The cold, accented voice slices through our moment like a blade. Noah's body tenses against mine, his arm tightening around my waist as he turns us both to face the sound.
Ivan Volkov stands in an opening where moments ago there was only a solid wall. A hidden door, perfectly camouflaged in the concrete. His ice-blue eyes gleam with amusement, his thin lips curve in that permanent, eerie smirk I've come to dread. He looks immaculate as always—not a hair out of place, his expensive suit unwrinkled despite the chaos happening in his home.
"The feared Il Fantasma," Ivan says, stepping fully into the room, "reduced to this... sentimental display. How disappointing."
Noah pushes me behind him, his body becoming a shield between Ivan and me. I grip the back of his shirt, peering around his bicep as the door to the cell slams shut with a metallic clang. The lock clicks into place.
We're trapped.
"I knew you would come for her," Ivan continues, his accent thickening with pleasure.
I keep my body angled between Evelyn and Ivan, my mind calculating every possible move. The concrete cell suddenly feels like a coffin except– I'm not planning on dying today.
Ivan's gun doesn't waver, his eyes locked on mine with that permanent fucking smirk. The hidden door he emerged from stands open behind him—a potential escape route if I can just get Evelyn through it.
"You're so predictable, Rivera," Ivan says. "I knew exactly which path you'd take."
"Then you should've known I'd kill you when I found you," I reply, voice steady despite the rage boiling inside me. I feel Evelyn's fingers dig into my back, her body trembling against mine.
I need time. Time to assess the angles, time for Matteo and Alessio to realize something's wrong.
"You've gone through a lot of trouble for one girl," I say, deliberately keeping my tone conversational. "Is your ego really that fragile?"
His eyes narrow slightly. Good. He's taking the bait.
"This was never about ego or a contract," Ivan says, gesturing with his free hand while keeping the gun trained on us. "It was about respect. About boundaries."
"Boundaries?" I laugh, the sound harsh in the small space. "You sent men to abduct her from her home."
"After you inserted yourself where you don't belong," Ivan counters. "The Ferettis have forgotten their place. And you... you're just a dog who doesn't know when to heel."
I shift my weight slightly, testing how Ivan reacts. His finger tightens on the trigger. Not yet.
"If it's about territory why not come after me directly?" I ask. "Why involve civilians?"
"Because taking what matters to you hurts more than bullets," Ivan says, his gaze flicking briefly to Evelyn. "I didn't expect you to care quite so much though. The infamous Phantom, brought to his knees by a pretty face with a violin."
I feel Evelyn's breath against my back, the warmth of her reminding me what I'm fighting for.
"You've made a mistake," I tell him, watching for any opening. "You think you understand me."
Ivan tilts his head. "Don't I? You're here, aren't you? Exactly where I wanted you."
I need just a few more seconds, just enough time to spot the weakness in his stance, in his plan.
"Then what happens now?" I ask. "You shoot us both and start a war with the Ferettis?"
I stare at Ivan. My fingers twitch, ready to reach for my weapon, but Ivan's gun remains steadily pointed at us.
"The Ferettis will burn your entire operation to the ground for this," I say, voice low and controlled despite the fury coursing through me.
Ivan laughs, the sound echoing off the concrete. "The Ferettis? They won't start a war over one useless man." His smirk widens. "You're expendable, Rivera. Always have been. You think Damiano sees you as anything more than a tool? A weapon to be pointed and fired?"
I keep my face blank but I feel Evelyn's fingers grind deeper into my back.
"Your delusion that you matter is almost touching," Ivan continues, his accent thickening with amusement. "Just like your mother's delusion that your father loved her. How did that end again? With her blood soaking into the floorboards while her precious violin lay shattered beside her?"
My vision blurs red at the edges. How the fuck does he know about my mother? The rage threatens to consume me but I force it down. That's what he wants—for me to lunge at him, to give him an excuse to pull the trigger.
"You know what's pathetic, Volkov?" I say, my voice deadly calm. "A man who needs to kidnap a woman to feel powerful. Is that how you compensate for your inadequacies? Taking what isn't yours because you're too fucking weak to earn anything on your own?"
Ivan's face transforms, his cruel smirk melting into something unexpected—laughter. Not the calculated chuckle he's been using, but genuine amusement that makes his shoulders shake.
"You know what, Rivera?" he says, wiping his eye with his free hand while keeping the gun trained on us. "I admire that at least you have some balls. Most men would be begging for their lives by now."
I don't respond, my muscles coiled tight, waiting for the perfect moment. Evelyn's breath comes in short gasps against my back. I need to get her out of this fucking cell alive.
"It's almost a shame to kill you," Ivan continues. "We could have?—"
The door behind us crashes open.
Everything slows down.
I see Matteo in the doorway, gun raised.
I see Ivan's eyes widen, his weapon swinging around towards the new threat.
I see Matteo exposed, no cover, no time to react.
My body moves before my mind can process, lunging forward and to the side, putting myself between Matteo and Ivan's gun.
"No!" Evelyn screams behind me.
Ivan's finger tightens on the trigger.
Mine does too.
Two shots thunder in the concrete cell, so close together they sound like one.