Chapter 43
THEA
Ireenter the world bit by bit, detail by detail.
The first thing I register is the cold concrete under my cheek, damp and smooth. Then there’s the smell, the awful smell of stale liquor and even staler cigarettes.
Finally, there’s the light—dim and purple, making everything look sickly and bruised.
I push myself up onto my hands and knees. My head is pounding. My mouth still tastes like whatever it was they used to knock me out. My stomach rolls and I place my hand to my belly, as I’ve done so many times before, telling myself to breathe.
Still here. We’re still here.
I blink multiple times until my vision sharpens.
It’s a nightclub, but it’s empty—no music, no dancers, no bartender. Just a big, open floor with a long bar along one wall. There are dark leather booths for seating, and a DJ platform in the corner. The lights are set low, cycling through shades of violet and blue.
It could even be a little atmospheric, if it weren’t for the four men standing at the exit.
My gut sinks when I see them. I don’t need to ask to know that they’re Kolya’s men.
I’m on the floor near the booths. My feet, still bare, are filthy and sore. My shirt’s still untucked from the exam, a tiny bit of sticky ultrasound gel remaining on my belly. My arms feel bruised from where the kidnappers gripped too hard.
“Thea?”
The voice is small and hoarse, but very familiar. My eyes widen and my heart clenches as I realize who it is.
I turn slowly to see Sylvie seated in one of the booths.
She’s thinner—much thinner—and her hair is dull, pulled back into a messy knot.
She’s wearing a black dress that doesn’t fit right, like it was given to her when she’d first arrived, and her body’s since shrunk.
There are awful shadows under her eyes that look like they live there now.
Tears form in my eyes at the sight of her.
“Sylvie.” I scramble to my feet, unsteady, and hurry toward her. “Oh my God, Sylvie.”
She doesn’t stand. She doesn’t reach for me. She doesn’t move at all, in fact.
I stop and look at her.
Sylvie’s eyes are flat. Not exactly empty, there’s still something behind them, but it’s coiled and hard.
I begin to move toward her again, carefully. I don’t want to scare her off if I move too suddenly.
“Sylvie, it’s me. It’s Thea. Are you okay? What happened to you?”
No response; she just stares.
I clear my throat. “I tried to come back for you at the auction, I swear. But Gabriel wouldn’t let me—”
“I know.”
Two words. Cold. Bitter.
“I watched you leave,” she says. “I stood on that stage all by myself and watched you leave with that prick.”
“I tried Sylvie.”
“Sasha bought me, if you don’t remember. Bought me for Kolya.” She says Kolya’s name with an ease that makes me sick to my stomach.
My hand moves to my chest. “Sylvie… whatever he did to you…”
Her eyes narrow and suddenly come to life in a way I didn’t expect. “Don’t you dare look at me like that. Don’t you pity me. You left. You went to your mansion, and your mafia boyfriend, and your new life, while I stayed here. I survived. And I did it on my own with no one coming to rescue me.”
The words hit me like a slap. Because she’s not wrong. Not entirely.
After my failed attempt at escape, I told myself that there was nothing I could do.
Gabriel prevented me from leaving. Maybe I gave up too quickly.
I didn’t even ask him for help in getting Sylvie back.
I asked Amanda. And all the while, I was sleeping in silk sheets in a huge mansion while my friend was being broken in a nightclub basement by the man who killed my family.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper, tears streaming down my face. “I’m so sorry.”
“I said, don’t pity me.”
She looks away. Her jaw is tight; her hands folded in her lap. She’s perfectly still, but in a way that suggests she’s trying her best to stay totally emotionless.
“Don’t be sorry,” she says. “You made a choice, now stand by it.”
What could I possibly say to her now to make things right? I didn’t try hard enough to get her back, and now Kolya has apparently warped her into his own personal plaything.
There’s nothing I can do to fix it.
Regardless, I try to think of something else to say. Anything. But before I can, a door opens at the back of the club. Sylvie’s eyes flick to the sound, and she sits up right away, her eyes flashing with readiness.
It’s Kolya. I can feel him.
I turn.
He enters with a knowing smile on his horrible face, moving with the unhurried ease of a man walking through his own living room, which I suppose he is, in a way.
He seems smaller than before. He’d become a towering figure in my nightmares, and even at the council meeting, he’d seemed larger than life. But now I see him as just a man, gray and balding, in an expensive coat that hangs on his narrow shoulders.
But those eyes.
They’re pale and sharp, and a strange, ancient shade of green, like the color of an old, forgotten forest. And when they land on me, I’m five years old again, scared and alone. He leers at me with the satisfied look of a predator who’s finally found his prey.
“There’s my girl.”
Two men march in beside him. More doors open on the upper level, more men appearing.
“It’s so good to see you again,” he says as he approaches me slowly, his hands clasped behind his back.
He regards me like I’m a museum piece, there for his inspection.
“You look so much like your mother. Same beauty, same defiance. It’s that very same defiance that I saw flash in her eyes during those brief seconds between when she woke up and when I put a bullet in her head. ”
My hand shoots up instinctively, without thought or hesitation. I slap him hard across the face, the cracking sound echoing throughout the large space. A red palm print forms on his fleshy cheek; his mouth twisted into awful amusement.
He nods to the two men beside him, and they rush to my sides, grabbing my arms.
“Let me go!” I shout, struggling against them. “Now!”
I pull and twist, but it doesn’t do me a bit of good.
Save your strength. Don’t waste it.
If Kolya is bothered or surprised by the slap, he doesn’t show it. He nods again to his men, this time motioning toward the booth behind us. They yank me hard, shoving me into the booth and sitting on both sides of me, blocking me in. Kolya slides in across, Sylvie on the other side.
He turns his attention to Sylvie. “My dear Sylvie, would you be so kind as to fetch me a bit of vodka from behind the bar? The good stuff. I’ve got a bit of talking to do, and I have a feeling it’s going to leave me rather parched.”
Part of me hopes that Sylvie tells him to screw off. But she doesn’t. Instead, she obediently slides out of the booth and makes her way toward the bar. Kolya watches her move, his eyes locked on her hips and ass. It makes me sick to my stomach.
“You know,” he says, settling into his seat. “I have to thank you. Sincerely, I do. Do you know how much time and money I’ve spent over the past twenty years making absolutely certain that the Fetisov line was extinct? The resources, the manpower, the pure tediousness of it.”
He sighs and shakes his head.
“I’d assumed the job was done. My men returned, told me that the Fetisov family and nearly all of the organization’s lieutenants were wiped out.
What a feeling.” He straightens, excitement in his eyes.
“Do you have any idea how satisfying it is to plan something of that magnitude and successfully execute it?” He chuckles.
“Sorry for the poor choice of words, my dear. Anyway, I was riding that high for weeks.”
He goes on. “Then, to my dismay, I find out months later that the job wasn’t completed. As it turns out, the youngest Fetisov daughter, the baby, was at a sleepover that night. And no one seemed to know where.
“Can you believe it? I pay these men for honesty and competence, and I pay them well.” He waves his hand and shakes his head. “Anyway, ancient history. You know what happened, and I know what happened.”
He looks away for a moment before speaking again. “Then, just when I almost have you in my grasp, right as I’m about to buy you and make you mine, that prick Gabriel ruins everything.” His hand is clenched into a fist. He sees me notice and releases it slowly.
It’s at this moment that Sylvie returns. She’s carrying a tray. Atop it is a bottle of vodka and a single glass. I watch as she sets down the glass and fills it. I can tell by her ease in the gesture that she’s done it many times before.
“Thank you, my dear.” Kolya throws back the first shot, then pours another. “Let me be honest, Sylvie has been quite the diversion. But she’s not who I really wanted. The one I really wanted just so happened to march right into the council meeting and announce herself to the entire Bratva.”
“You murdered my family.”
“I did.” His tone is almost pleasant, and my stomach turns.
“Your father first. You know what they say—when you shoot the king, don’t miss.
I didn’t miss. Then your sister. She fought, by the way.
Twelve years old, and she actually swung at one of my men with a fire poker.
Your brother was asleep, nothing to report there. Your mother was last.”
I can’t breathe. My vision is swimming and my hands are shaking. The nightclub lights make me feel like I’m on the verge of vomiting. I’m sitting across the table from a monster, describing how he slaughtered my family with the tone you’d reserve for telling coworkers about a fun weekend outing.
“Anyway,” he says, pouring another drink.
“I was worried for a little bit. Knowing that the final Fetisov was running around, her mere existence threatening everything I’d worked so hard to build.
” He taps his hand on the table with excitement.
“But that’s all correctable now—thanks to you and your Italian boyfriend.
Gabriel always had a little bit too much ambition for his own good.
He couldn’t wait to spring you on the council.
And when he did, he put a huge target on your back.
” He leans forward. “Can’t leave loose ends behind. I learned that lesson the hard way.”
A strange sound escapes me. Something between a whimper and a cry.
“With your death, things will finally click into place. I’ll kill you and the heirs to both the Fetisov and Moretti lines, moving on to the rest of the Bratva families before they have a chance to react.
I’ll be the last man standing. And once the Bratva is under my control, I’ll move on to the Camorra. ”
He grins. He’s not done yet.
“As for Gabriel, I won’t kill him. That’s the gift I’m going to give myself.
I’ll take everything he has—the Camorra, his territories, his reputation.
And then I’ll let him live with the knowledge that he failed, that he had twenty years to protect the little girl he promised to save, and in the end, she died with his baby in her belly. ”
He’s practically squirming with delight as he speaks. “It’s a nice plan, yes?”
“It’s sick,” I spit. “And it’s not going to happen. Gabriel’s going to kill you. And deep down, I think you know it.”
He lifts his eyebrows at me in mild surprise. Then he shrugs, pours another drink, and tosses it back.
“If that’s the fantasy you want to have, I won’t stop you. After all, it’s no fun unless I get to break your spirit in the process.”
With that, he gets out of his seat. I can tell by the slight wobble that he’s already feeling the alcohol.
“Sit tight, malyshka. I won’t be long.”
He turns and walks toward the door, his goons lurching out of the booth and catching up with him.
The silence that follows is like a tomb. All I can hear is the sound of my heartbeat thrumming in my ears, and the hum of the refrigerators behind the bar.
Sylvie hasn’t moved. She’s watching me from the other side of the booth with an expression I can’t quite puzzle out. I can’t tell whether she feels bad for me, or she’s happy I’m getting what she feels I deserve.
I curl forward and wrap my arms around my stomach.
Then the tears come. They’re ugly, messy tears, the kind that shake your whole body and steal your breath. I cry for my family. I cry for Sylvie.
And I cry for my baby, who hasn’t even been born yet and is already being hunted.
Gabriel. He’s somewhere in the city right now, unaware that the woman he loves and the child she carries sit in some rundown nightclub, praying he comes.