Chapter 42
CHAPTER
FORTY-TWO
NIKOLAI
My shirt hangs open, the fabric slick with blood from the graze on my shoulder. With a grimace, I unscrew the vodka bottle, pour a shot, and toss it back.
Tilting the bottle, I let the alcohol spill over the wound. The sting is sharp enough to make my head swim for a moment.
“Fuck,” I mutter, grabbing a fresh bandage and pressing it against the graze. It could have been worse. The pain is a welcome distraction, a reminder that I’m alive. It feels like the only thing keeping me from spinning out of control.
Sofiya could have been killed tonight. It would’ve been the second time her life was in danger under my watch, and that fact eats away at me. I’ve failed her again, and I fucking hate it.
Emil got her out while the fighting was still going on. I’m furious he didn’t wait for my orders, but at least she’s safe. He texted to say they’re en route to the estate.
I still don’t have a clue who’s behind the attack—the Syndicate, the goddamn Azerbaijanis, or some unknown enemy lurking in the shadows. In my world, anything is possible.
Eva and Vadim enter my office a moment later as I fumble with the bandage one-handed. Eva clicks her tongue and snatches it from me.
“You’re going to make it worse,” she mutters, taking over first-aid duty.
When she’s done, Vadim presses a spare, clean shirt into my hands. “Try not to bleed through this one,” he says dryly.
I rub at my temples. “What did you learn?”
Eva blows out a breath. “The men who attacked us arrived in an unmarked van. They were all wearing black, with no visible signs of affiliation. It’s possible they were mercenaries hired for this job.”
I nod, wiping the sweat from my face. “And the dead?”
Vadim shakes his head. “No tattoos, no scars, no identifiers. We’re still running their images through facial recognition software to see if we get any hits.”
I run a palm over my chin. “It feels like it was meant as a distraction more than an attack.”
“The Belov Syndicate?” Vadim suggests. “Could they have been looking for Sofiya?”
My blood freezes. “How would they know she’s here? Details of the party were kept secret until the last minute.”
Eva clears her throat, drawing my attention. “About that. I was going to wait until tomorrow to show you this, but it might be relevant.” She pulls a cell phone out of her back pocket. “This is Valeria’s cell phone. It went missing the day you took Sofiya shopping at her boutique. Valeria was sure she had misplaced it, so she never cut off service. She didn’t think much of it until she got her phone bill yesterday.”
My eyebrows draw together. “What are you saying?”
“Valeria called me because she didn’t want to accuse your wife of stealing. I hope you don’t mind, but I did some digging. I found the phone hidden away in Sofiya’s bathroom.” Eva taps a few times on the screen before handing it to me. “It looks like she messaged and called her sister Liza a couple of times. The most recent call was today.”
Everything inside me goes cold.
Vadim frowns. “You think Sofiya put this in motion?”
Eva grimaces. “We have to consider it as a possibility.”
A sick feeling washes over me. Was Igor right? Is Sofiya using me the way my brother did? The thought feels like a knife to the gut.
“Fuck.” I rub my temples, trying to make sense of everything. “But she didn’t know where I was taking her tonight. I kept it a surprise until the last minute.” I scroll through the call logs. “The last call she made was hours before she arrived here.”
Vadim’s lips twist as he lowers himself onto the edge of my desk. “Could she have overheard something? We shouldn’t underestimate her.” He gestures to the phone. “She’s obviously more wily than any of us thought.”
Anger flares hot through my veins. “She wouldn’t do that.”
“How do you know?” Eva asks gently.
I don’t. I don’t know fucking anything for sure. The only thing I have is a soul-deep conviction that she wouldn’t betray me. But only an idiot would bet everything on that.
Vadim and Eva go quiet, giving me a moment to process.
“Listen,” Eva continues. “She stole the phone before your relationship… changed. It’s possible the Syndicate was able to override our jammers and trace the call today. It’s also possible Sofiya didn’t know they were coming.”
I shake my head, the logic not adding up. “Why would they risk her getting hurt in the attack? And the Syndicate fights to win. If they made a move, none of us would be standing, and Sofiya would be long gone.”
Vadim drums his fingers on the desk. “We still haven’t ruled out the Azerbaijanis. Tural might be locked in our warehouse, but someone who works for him could be behind this.”
Of all the possibilities, this seems the most likely. “I’m going to the warehouse to question Tural.” I crack my neck, my body vibrating with energy.
“Vadim, you stay here and deal with the clean-up. See if we get more details on who the dead guys are. Eva, you go back to the house and check on Sofiya. I want extra men protecting the estate tonight.”
Vadim reaches for his gun, checking the chamber before holstering it. “And if the Syndicate was behind the attack? If Sofiya is working with them… What’s our plan then?”
I grind my molars together so tightly it feels like I might chip a tooth. “I don’t have a good answer for that.”
A tense silence blankets the room, but I’m not here to discuss what-ifs. I motion for them to get on with it.
Tural hangs from a hook in the ceiling, his wrists bound, his feet barely brushing the concrete floor. Blood drips from his split lip onto his already ripped and stained shirt. Looks like Eva had a little head start.
He lifts his head when I enter, his swollen eyes narrowing. “Zhukov,” he barks. “Come to finish the job yourself?”
“You look like hell,” I say, rolling my sleeves up as I come to a stop in front of him.
“The same could be said about you,” he rasps.
My fist connects with his face, a solid hit to the nose that makes him grunt in pain. I grab his face and force him to look at me.
“I don’t have much time so I’m going to set out some ground rules. I’m going to ask you questions, and you're going to answer them truthfully and without hesitation.” I raise my electric drill so he can see it. The message is clear. “You’re dying tonight. How I kill you is still up in the air. So let’s cut the bullshit. How about you tell me why you attacked my club tonight? Is it because the idiot you hired to take me and my wife out in the streets didn't do his job?”
I grab the drill and flick the switch. The motor hums, the bit spinning inches from his face. His bravado falters as the sound fills the room.
“The street hit was mine, but I had nothing to do with the party tonight. How could we? My men are all here, tied up like animals.”
“Are you sure you don’t have anyone left on the outside?” I snarl, pressing the tip of the drill under his chin just enough to make him feel the point. “You’d better think real hard about your answer because this is the part where I get creative.”
Fear flickers in his eyes as he struggles against the restraints. “There’s no one left!” he roars. “You got everyone who could help me. I swear it.”
I lower the drill to hover over his abdomen. “How the hell did you know about my marriage to Sofiya? How did you know to threaten her? And don’t feed me bullshit.”
His head lolls forward, his breath coming in shallow pants. “You think I’m the villain here, Zhukov? You’re blind. The real enemy is staring you in the fucking face, and you don’t see who’s playing you.”
My vision blurs with rage as I shove the drill into his side, the bit piercing flesh. Tural screams, his body jerking violently, blood blooming like a dark flower on his shirt.
“Who?” I roar, yanking the drill back. “Tell me, or I’ll go deeper.”
“Who do you think?” he gasps, his face twisting in pain.
Igor.
Fuck me. Everything locks into place, the realization so sharp it feels like I’ve been gutted.
He was under my nose the whole time, and I didn’t see it. My breathing slows, the drill suddenly heavy in my hand as Tural watches my expression.
“Figured it out, didn’t you?” he wheezes.
I swallow hard, forcing the bile back down my throat. My mind races through every interaction, every warning sign I ignored. The uneasy feeling I’ve brushed off too many times.
I power up the drill and press it into his flesh, harder this time. His screams are raw and guttural. Blood spills, dripping onto the floor. So much for keeping this shirt clean.
“Why? What does Igor want from me?” I demand. Tural groans, his head slumping forward, but I yank his chin up. “Speak.”
“How the fuck should I know? He didn’t tell me his plan, he just tipped me off about your location the day of the attack. Said you’d lost sight of your priorities and needed help finding your way. All I wanted was getting a better cut on our deal, but you were too fucking stubborn.”
His eyes roll back, lids fluttering. He’s on the verge of passing out.
“Stay with me,” I growl, slapping him across the face. His head jerks to the side.
“Igor has bigger plans for you,” he taunts, his voice faint. “You have no idea what’s coming. He’s… he’s working with s-someone powerful…”
His head slumps forward, the light in his eyes fading as he loses consciousness.
“Fuck!” I slap his face harder this time, but he’s lost too much blood.
What does that mean… Bigger plans. Someone powerful? I’ve been blind, thinking I was always one step ahead. But Igor’s been setting the board, and I’ve been playing right into his hands.
My phone vibrates, and I pull it from my pocket.
Eva’s calling and I swipe to answer. “What is it?”
Her voice is tight with urgency. “Emil never came back to the estate. He’s gone—and so is Sofiya.”
The phone slips from my grasp, my pulse pounding in my ears. Everything inside me goes cold.