Chapter 21 - Elisse
The silence should have warned me. Fyodor had told me that for the past few weeks, the Chernykh networks had gone dark.
There were no intercepted signals, no movement on the edges of the city, and no retaliatory strikes.
Fyodor had called it what it was. Iosif, Avgust, Timofey, and Lukyan were not even seen in public.
What was even more surprising was that even Zhenya, Clara and Ilana had disappeared.
The calm before the storm.
I had pretended not to hear the tension beneath his voice when he said it, but I knew my family too well to know that this was not normal.
It obviously meant something. That morning, the penthouse felt unusually still.
Too still. The guards had rotated at dawn.
Anya was in the kitchen arguing softly with one of the staff about flowers that had arrived wilted.
The sky outside was a flat gray, heavy with impending rain.
I was in the studio space I had carved out for myself, standing barefoot, smudged with charcoal, with fabric samples scattered across the table.
A half-finished sketch lay beneath my hand.
It was a gown made with ivory silk. It had structured shoulders. Strength and softness stitched together. My phone, which was still secured and monitored, but finally returned to me a couple of weeks ago, sat untouched beside the window. I had not used it to call them. Not once.
Everything felt so quiet that the first gunshot almost didn’t sound real.
It echoed from somewhere below, distant and muffled, and I froze.
It was quickly followed by a second shot, which was much closer now and definitely not random.
The needles fell from my hands as I looked around, unsure of what was happening. Fyodor was not home.
The sound of shattering glass detonated down the hallway, and my heart almost stopped.
The penthouse erupted, which was quickly followed by shouting and the sound of boots.
I could hear the faint crack of suppressed weapons, and I ran towards the door just as Viktor burst into the hallway, blood streaking down one side of his forehead.
“Inside,” he barked.
“What’s happening?”
“Stay in your room.”
Another explosion of sound rocked the building. The alarm system flickered once and immediately died. It had probably been strategically dismantled. My stomach dropped, making me realize that the power had been cut.
“Who is it?” I demanded.
He didn’t answer, but that was only because he didn’t have to.
A part of me already knew exactly who it was.
Just as I was beginning to absorb the news, the front doors blew inward without any chaos.
It was all done with quiet precision instead.
Men flooded the living room in coordinated formation, dressed in black tactical gear.
Men I knew with their Chernykh insignias shining on their chests.
Exactly like one of the insignias that I owned too.
And at the center of it all were Iosif and Avgust. My brothers.
They moved like they had rehearsed every single one of those steps. As much as I knew them, they probably had. Since the networks had gone silent, they hadn’t been dormant, but they had been planning instead.
“Secure the perimeter,” Iosif ordered coldly.
Shots were fired down the east corridor, followed by more shouting. I could hear the battle sounds all around me and the Romanov guards retaliating just the same. From what I had witnessed during my time here, Fyodor’s men were both smart and experienced, and it was not going to be an easy battle.
I stepped out from inside the studio, and Avgust saw me first.
“Elisse.”
His voice wasn’t soft, but it was furious.
He crossed the room in seconds, his gaze raking all over me as if he was inspecting me for chains or wounds or marks, but he found none of it.
I was wearing a yellow sundress, my hair thrown open, and just until a few minutes ago, I had been calm with the world.
He held me by the shoulders and pulled me in for a hug, but I couldn’t find the heart to hug him back.
As good as it was to see him, I was still in shock.
“Are you okay? Are you hurt?” he asked, questions rushing out of him.
“I am fine. I am fine,” I replied, still trying to find my footing. “How did you guys get here?”
“That is not important. What’s important is that you are safe, and now you need to come with us.”
“What are you doing?” I demanded, heart pounding as I pushed myself away from him.
“We are taking you home, Elle.”
“I am home.”
His jaw clenched at my response, but for some reason, he didn’t exactly look surprised.
“Please don’t say that. You were kidnapped, and you have been kept here against your will.
I am not sure if he married you or not, but if he did marry you, that does not mean you belong to him, or that this is your home. The marriage means nothing.”
Iosif stepped forward more slowly, gaze scanning me for injuries.
“Are you sure you are not hurt or drugged?”
“I am sure.”
“Did he touch you?”
“Yes,” I snapped, “I am married to Fyodor.”
His expression darkened.
“Well, as Avgust said, that marriage means nothing. You are coming back with us, and I am sure we can get it annulled or something.”
“It means everything to me, and I am not going anywhere.”
Another burst of gunfire echoed from the stairwell, and smoke began to creep faintly through the hallway.
“You’re not thinking clearly, Ellise,” Avgust said. “He has manipulated you.”
“He hasn’t.”
“You think we believe that?”
“I’m not being held here against my will or something insane like that. Staying here is my own choice, and I am not going anywhere with you guys, no matter how much you ask of me. And don’t you dare try to force my hand at it.”
Iosif’s eyes flicked around the room as he looked at the shattered glass, the armed guards, the surveillance equipment.
“You expect us to believe this is voluntary?”
“Yes.”
Avgust stepped closer, lowering his voice.
“Elisse. You don’t have to defend him in front of us. We already know he is a monster to kidnap you and bring you here against your will, and then he went ahead and trapped you in this marriage. We will not let you live here with him.”
“I’m not defending him, I’m choosing him.”
The words felt like detonating a bomb between us, and Iosif’s face hardened into something unrecognizable. I could see he was growing angry since neither of them must have expected me to behave this way. They probably expected me to run towards them scared, ready to return home and get out of here.
“He kidnapped you.”
“He married me.”
“He leveraged you.”
“He let me choose. I had the choice of calling you two to rescue me weeks ago, but I did not do so because I did not want to be rescued. I still don’t want to be rescued. I want to stay here. With him. And nothing you do or say can change that decision for me.”
Gunfire erupted closer now, and I could hear Romanov men pushing back from the lower floors.
The operation was still very much active, making me realize how it wasn’t a clean extraction.
It was a war zone, and that was exactly what I hated the most. I hated that men who had nothing to do with any of this were killed because of me.
Iosif grabbed my arm, then, clearly, an element of force attached to it. “You’re coming with us, and that’s it. I am not going to hear any arguments against this. I won’t let you stand here and vouch for this madness.”
I jerked free.
“No.”
“Elisse.”
“I said no.”
“You’re not thinking straight.”
“Stop saying that!”
Another explosion rocked the far wall, and plaster rained down from the ceiling. Just then, the elevator doors opened, and to both my relief and horror, he stepped out into chaos.
Fyodor.
He had no escort or security detail with him, except a gun which was loosely attached to his hand.
His coat still dusted with rain from outside, and I watched as he took in the scene in one sweep.
My brothers. Their men. His men bleeding across marble floors.
And his gaze landed on me. Standing between Iosif and Avgust. Untouched.
Unrestrained. And something in his face broke.
“Elisse,” he said quietly.
Iosif moved slightly in front of me as if he was trying to shield me from him. From my own husband. From the one man, I didn’t need any shielding against. The man I loved with everything I had in me and who loved me back.
“She’s coming home.”
Fyodor’s gaze never left mine.
“Did you call them?”
The question was barely audible, but it hit harder than any gunshot.
“No,” I breathed.
He didn’t look convinced.
“I didn’t,” I repeated.
Iosif drew his weapon, and the Romanov guards who had followed Fyodor upstairs responded instantly.
Within seconds, guns were raised, and the standoff detonated.
The shots that were fired in rapid succession almost deafened me as men collided in brutal, close combat all around.
The penthouse became a battlefield within seconds, and I watched in horror as Iosif lunged toward Fyodor, Avgust following right behind him.
The impact when they collided was violent.
Fyodor fought like he always did, precise, economical, and devastating. He disarmed one man with a twist of the wrist, drove another back with controlled brutality. But there were too many of them. And he hadn’t come prepared. He had walked into an ambush.
“For God’s sake, stop!” I screamed, but no one listened.
Iosif landed a hard strike to Fyodor’s ribs, and Avgust followed with a brutal hit to his shoulder. Fyodor staggered but didn’t fall. He fought back, knocking Avgust to the floor, slamming Iosif against the wall.
“Elisse!” he shouted over the chaos. “Move!”
I couldn’t. If I moved towards him, my brothers would only escalate, and if I moved toward them, he would think that I had called them here and I had chosen them over him.
Another shot rang out in the open, and I saw Viktor dragging one of the wounded guards behind cover.
The battle wasn’t one-sided, and Romanov forces were regrouping from lower levels.
Sirens wailed faintly in the distance. This was spiraling and turning into something bigger than it was.
Iosif tackled Fyodor to the ground, and they crashed into the shattered remains of the glass table.
Blood streaked across white marble, and Avgust aimed his weapon right at Fyodor, but I stepped between them.
“Stop! Stop right now!”
Three guns swung toward me instantly as silence slammed into the room.
“Elisse, move,” Avgust ordered.
“No.”
“You don’t understand.”
“No,” I snapped, “you don’t.”
Iosif rose slowly, chest heaving.
“He has brainwashed you.”
“He hasn’t.”
“You think this is love?”
“Yes.”
The word echoed, and Fyodor looked up at me from the floor. His face was cut, and there was blood at the corner of his mouth. But his eyes still appeared fractured.
“Go with them,” he said hoarsely.
My stomach dropped.
“What?”
“If that’s what you want.”
“It’s not.”
He didn’t look convinced.
“You came without calling,” he said quietly.
“I didn’t know.”
“Your networks went silent.”
“I didn’t know.”
Iosif grabbed my wrist again.
“We are leaving.”
More Romanov reinforcements flooded the stairwell, and the battle reignited instantly.
Fyodor pushed himself to his feet and shoved me backward, shielding me from a stray round that shattered the wall behind us.
He didn’t escalate. He didn’t order lethal retaliation.
He fought defensively, creating an exit.
I could see he was retreating under fire and choosing survival over pride.
For me. But from where he stood, it looked like nothing but betrayal.
It looked like I had lured him into the trap.
“Elisse,” he said one last time.
And there was something in his voice I had never heard before. Not anger. Not fury. Loss.
Before he could say anything else to me, Viktor grabbed his arm, “They’re breaching the west corridor!”
Fyodor held my gaze one heartbeat longer, and then he turned, disappearing down the hall as Romanov men covered his exit. Iosif dragged me toward the stairwell. The gunfire followed them, and the penthouse, which had been my home, shook with it.
“No!” I screamed, fighting against his grip. “Let me go!”
“You’re not staying here!”
“He thinks I called you!”
“You should have!”
“I didn’t want to!”
Avgust forced open the emergency stairwell door, and smoke curled behind us. The marble floors were slick with water from broken sprinkler lines and streaked with blood that wasn’t entirely Romanov. The operation was still ongoing. We descended three flights before I wrenched free.
“I’m not leaving!”
Iosif turned on me. “You don’t get a choice!”
“I do!”
“He kidnapped you!”
“He set me free!”
Avgust stared at me like I had lost my mind. “You’re defending the man who used you.”
“He stepped away from everything for me!”
Silence. Even through the distant gunfire.
“What?” Iosif asked coldly.
“He severed ties with Kliment. He dismantled operations against the Chernyks, and he walked away from everything.”
“For you?” Avgust demanded.
“Yes.”
They exchanged a look as doubt flickered on their faces. But it was too late. The stairwell door above us slammed open again, followed by more shouting. I could hear the Romanov men pushing forward, fighting my brother’s soldiers. In that split second, Iosif made a decision.
“I don’t care what he did and didn’t do. We’re extracting. Now.”
They dragged me down the remaining flights and right outside, black SUVs waited for us.
The city streets were chaotic with sirens approaching from multiple directions.
As they shoved me into the vehicle, I looked up at the broken windows of the penthouse above.
At the smoke rising. At the place that had stopped feeling like a prison and started feeling like home.
He thought I had betrayed him. The realization hit harder than the gunfire.
The SUV doors slammed shut, and the engine roared to life.
As we pulled away, the battle still raged behind us.
Neither finished nor resolved. And somewhere inside that wreckage, I had just lost the one person I never wanted to lose.