17. Vlad
CHAPTER 17
VLAD
Our footsteps in the quiet apartment seem too loud as Nico and I step inside. The air feels heavy, hard to breathe, oddly painful. As if there are still tiny pieces of the decanter floating throughout. It's a strange sensation. Strange and unfamiliar. I've killed before. Not because I wanted, but because it was either the man Yuri ordered to end or me. It was part of my play to get in his good graces. To eliminate lives to eventually be able to eliminate the monster.
These things always require sacrifices and I did what I had to. I shove my guilt down, bury it deep, just like the body we buried a couple of hours ago.
But this is different. This is something I didn't need to do. I could have told Nico to deal with it on his own. Yet, I couldn't.
With a grim finality, I lock the door, sealing away the morning raging beyond these walls.
Nico and I exchange a wordless glance, a thousand unsaid things passing between us in that loaded moment. I feel it—the gravity of it all.
There are still things to be done, tracks to be covered.
Needing some time to think, I move to the window, gazing out at the restless city that never sleeps. Somewhere out there, there is probably another man who breathes his last breath because of me. One more ghost to haunt my dreams in the future.
Behind me, Nico paces the living room, his agitation palpable. "What now?" His normally smooth voice carries a ragged edge.
I sigh, not taking my eyes from the window. "We need to finish cleaning up here. Check the walls, behind furniture, anywhere else you can think of. I'll call the regular cleaner in a couple of weeks, so it's not too suspicious. Needs to look like regular service request. Ivan can handle the other stuff."
"I'll start on the rest then." Nico strides to the bathroom to grab the cleaning supplies we left there, purpose momentarily eclipsing his panic.
As his footsteps fade, I allow myself a weary exhale, my head throbbing from the lack of sleep.
It occurs to me I can't remember when I felt untainted. Clean. Was there ever such a time? The red in my ledger could drown the world.
I clench my fists. Conscience is a luxury men like me cannot afford. Not with vultures circling, eager for any sign of vulnerability. Not with so much at stake. So I lock my doubts away, just like I locked that door. I'll fall apart later. But not now. Not yet.
The muffled clatter of Nico working carries from down the hall, a dissonant soundtrack to this aftermath. I focus on the city landscape. No absolution to be found there. Only the resolve to endure. To keep moving forward, no matter the cost.
I retrieve the burner from the top drawer of the accent chest in the corner and dial Ivan.
"I have a task for you," I mutter in Russian. "You need to handle the security footage from the Elevate building. Neither Nicola nor I were here tonight."
"Understood, boss." He doesn't ask questions, and for that, I'm grateful.
"The sooner the better." I end the call, the phone a deadweight in my hand.
I join Nico in the hallway, where he's wiping away the leftover of evidence of our crime cover up. His every movement is a study in precision, desperation etched into his features. I know that look all too well. I've seen it in the mirror.
Hesitantly, I lay a hand on his shoulder, feeling the tension beneath my fingers. "No one will ever know," I rasp. It could be a lie, but it's the only thing I have to offer, the only way to ease the despair.
Nico doesn't respond, but he doesn't need to. The way he grips the bloodied cloth, the slight tremor in his hand, speaks volumes.
Together, we finish removing the remnants of our transgression. The hallway walls, the bedroom floors, the carpet in the living room. Furniture is moved around. Curtains thrown into the washer. Clothes shed too.
It's way past lunch when we're finally done. I do one last inspection of the apartment while Nico heads over to take a shower.
Satisfied with my findings, I follow him to the bathroom.
I take a steadying breath before entering to join Nico. I don't know if he wants me there. The scent of bleach assaults my nostrils, harsh and clinical and I pull the window up to let in some fresh air. Nico stands at the sink, shirtless, in boxers, the jeans discarded. Water splashes everywhere as he scrubs his hands raw. The bruise on his arm is a lurid purple against his tanned skin. The cuts are angry but not that deep. A cruel reminder of the night's brutality that took place in this very apartment hours ago.
Nico meets my gaze in the mirror when I stop closer, eyes haunted. "Is it always like this?" His voice is hoarse, strained.
I don't need to ask what he means. I know. I also want to offer false comfort. But I respect him too much for that. "Most times, yeah." I shed my own pants, wincing as the pain of physical labor runs through my back. "You get used to it. Or you break."
Nico's laugh is brittle. "Great options." He keeps staring at my reflection. "You said most times."
"I did."
"Do you do this often?"
"No. I try to avoid doing this at all. But I'm not going to feed you bullshit. We both know who my father was."
"I heard stories."
We finish undressing in silence. The shower hisses to life, steam billowing, beckoning us into its embrace. Under the warm spray, I watch rivulets of light pink roll down our arms and swirl down the drain.
Nico stands motionless, head bowed, water sluicing over the taut planes of his body. I reach out, tracing the bruise on his arm with a gentleness that feels too foreign to my blood-stained hands. He shivers at my touch, a choked sound escaping his throat.
"I'm sorry," I murmur, the words inadequate. Solovey men don't apologize. But when it comes to him, my brain isn't quite right.
He turns around.
His eyes find mine, a vortex of emotions. "I knew the risks." He captures my hand, pressing it against his chest. Beneath my palm, his heart pounds a furious rhythm. "I chose this. Chose you."
The declaration steals my breath, dangerous and exhilarating. In this dark existence, he is my one luminous thing. The one I would burn cities to the ground to keep safe. The one I would damn my already tarnished soul to protect.
Fuck. All these strange soft thoughts invading my mind are terrifying. Even more terrifying then death itself.
But I swallow back the confessions clawing at my throat. I don't know how to say those thing. Instead, I pull him closer, our slick bodies aligning, seeking solace in the only way we know how. Physical intimacy. His lips find mine, a searing brand against my mouth.
Under the relentless deluge, we surrender to the tide of our need, hands grasping, teeth slowly dragging against skin, marking. Desire to be close overrides finesse. It's not the usual frantic sex that's more of a battle than anything else. Today, it's unhurried and deliberate.
And when it's over, we cling to each other, gasping, spent, under the stream of water. I press my forehead against his, savoring this moment of pure peace.
"This was different," Nico's whisper is barely audible over the drumming of the shower.
I tighten my grip on him, anchoring us both. "How different?"
He palms my face with both hands and kisses me on the lips.
"Not something I'd expect from Vlad Solovey," he murmurs when he draws back slightly.
"I'm afraid I don't want to know more."
"You don't need to." Nico flashes me a smirk, first positive emotion I see on his face today, and my heart flutters. He disentangles himself from me and steps out of the shower.
"I'm starving and exhausted. How about we grab some breakfast and crash for a bit?"
He stands there, right in front of me, a living work of art—water cascading down his skin like rain over marble. I picture us as just another couple, after an evening painted with laughter and dim city lights, returning home to devour plates of syrup-drenched pancakes or crispy bacon alongside perfectly scrambled eggs before tangling up in bed together.
But reality stings—a raw reminder that these dreams slip through my fingers like sand. I'm not someone who gets to live openly, unapologetically as a partner or be the comforting shoulder when tears fall. Instead, I'm hidden beneath layers I can't shake off.