Chapter 14 - Menlow
I’ve been staring at the same document for twenty minutes without reading a single word.
Across the office, Kirsten types away at her computer, completely absorbed in whatever report she’s working on. She hasn’t spoken to me since last night. Since I carried her to her room, and she shut the door in my face.
I deserved it. I know I did. But knowing doesn’t make it easier to sit here, three feet away from her, pretending everything is normal when nothing is normal at all.
Last night keeps replaying in my head. The warehouse. The women we found. The things Viktor Sokolov’s men were doing to them before we broke down the door.
I’ve seen a lot in my years with the Bratva. Violence doesn’t faze me anymore. Death is just another part of the business. But what I saw last night… That was different. Those women weren’t enemies or rivals. They were victims. Broken, terrified, and stripped of every shred of dignity.
And one of them could have been Anya.
My hands curl into fists on my desk. I force them to relax before Kirsten notices.
When Pavel first brought me the intel on Sokolov’s operation, I didn’t believe it.
The man runs a legitimate security consulting firm on paper.
He moves in the same circles as other businessmen, attends the same galas, and donates to the same charities.
No one would ever suspect what he really does.
He finds vulnerable women. Women with secrets, with debt, with families they’re trying to protect. He digs into their lives until he finds their weakness, then he exploits it. Blackmails them into becoming escorts for high-profile clients who pay handsomely for discretion.
It’s a clever operation. The women can’t go to the police because Sokolov has enough dirt on them to destroy their lives. The clients won’t talk because they have too much to lose. Everyone stays silent, and Sokolov keeps getting richer.
Until he made the mistake of targeting my sister.
Pavel intercepted communications earlier this week. Sokolov’s people were gathering information on Anya. I shut them down before they could find anything useful. Last night’s raid was supposed to be the final blow, a message to Sokolov that this family is off limits.
Instead, it turned into something else entirely. Something that will haunt me for a long time.
My phone buzzes, and I grab it, grateful for the distraction.
Pavel's text makes my blood run cold.
Viktor Sokolov is on his way to your building. He wants to talk.
I read the message twice. Three times. Then I set the phone down on my desk and lean back in my chair.
He’s coming here. To my building. To confront me on my own turf.
The smart move would be to tell security to turn him away. To let Pavel and the others handle this far from the office, far from Kirsten, far from anything that could expose what I really am.
But I’m not feeling smart today. I’m feeling angry. The kind of cold, quiet anger that doesn’t burn out. The kind that waits.
I text back: Let him up.
Pavel’s response is immediate: You sure?
It’s lunchtime. The office will be empty. I want to hear what he has to say.
Three dots appear, then disappear. Then: On my way. Don’t do anything stupid before I get there.
I almost laugh. Pavel knows me too well.
Kirsten looks up from her desk. “Everything okay?”
“Fine.” I force my voice to stay neutral. “Just some business I need to handle. You should go to lunch with the others.”
She frowns. “I brought something from home. I was just going to eat at my desk.”
“Go out. Get some fresh air. Please.”
Something in my tone must give me away, because her frown deepens. But she doesn’t argue. She just nods, grabs her bag, and heads for the door.
“I’ll be back in an hour,” she states.
“Take your time.”
The door closes behind her, and I release a breath I didn’t know I was holding. Good. She’s safe. She’s away from this.
I spend the next fifteen minutes clearing my desk of anything sensitive and making sure the floor is empty. Most of the staff went to lunch at noon, and the few stragglers leave shortly after. By the time my assistant buzzes to tell me I have a visitor, the place is deserted.
“Send him in.”
The door opens, and Viktor Sokolov walks into my office like he owns it.
He’s older than I expected. Mid-fifties, maybe, with silver hair slicked back from a weathered face. His suit is expensive but poorly fitted, and he’s wearing too much cologne. He’s the kind of man who thinks money can buy class. Who believes his wealth makes him untouchable.
He spreads his arms wide as if greeting an old friend. “Mr. Karpov. Thank you for seeing me.”
“I don’t recall having a choice.” I gesture to the chair across from my desk. “Sit.”
He sits, crossing one leg over the other and making himself comfortable. “I think there’s been a misunderstanding between us.”
“Has there?”
“Last night. Your men came to my establishment. Caused quite a bit of trouble.” He shakes his head with mock disappointment. “Broke some equipment. Scared some of my employees. Very bad for business.”
“Your business deserves to be ruined.”
His smile doesn’t waver, but something cold enters his eyes. “You don’t know anything about my business.”
“I know exactly what your business is.” I lean forward, bracing my forearms on the desk.
“You find vulnerable women. You dig up their secrets, their weaknesses, anything you can use against them. Then you exploit that information to force them into escorting for wealthy men who pay you for the privilege.”
Viktor’s smile finally slips. “That’s a very creative interpretation.”
“It’s not an interpretation. It’s what you do.” I keep my voice level, even though rage is building in my chest. “You’re a predator. You target women who can’t fight back, and you destroy their lives for profit.”
“I provide a service. Supply and demand.” He waves a dismissive hand. “These women have options—”
“They have no options once you’re done with them.
That’s the whole point.” I think of the women we found last night.
Their hollow eyes. Their trembling hands.
The way they flinched at every sudden movement.
“You take everything from them until they have nothing left but what you allow them to have.”
He studies me for a long moment, and I watch his demeanor shift. The friendly businessman mask falls away, only to be replaced by something harder. Something that matches the monster I know him to be.
“Let me be direct with you, Mr. Karpov. I came here as a courtesy. To explain that what happened last night cannot happen again.”
“Is that a threat?”
“It’s a fact. You think you’re untouchable because of your family name. Because of your cousins and their reputation. But I have powerful friends, too. Men who would be very unhappy if my operation were disrupted.”
“I don’t care about your friends.”
“You should.” He stands, buttoning his jacket.
“Because if you interfere with my business again, I’ll make it my personal mission to destroy everything you’ve built.
This company. Your reputation. Your family.
” He pauses, letting the words land. “Starting with that pretty little sister of yours. Anya, isn’t it? The one with the rebellious streak?”
The rage I’ve been containing explodes.
I’m around the desk before I realize I’ve moved, grabbing Viktor by the throat and slamming him against the wall. His head cracks against the drywall, and he lets out a choked gasp.
“Don’t you ever,” I growl, “mention my sister again.”
He claws at my hand, trying to pry my fingers loose. “You’re making a mistake—”
“The mistake was yours. Coming here. Threatening me. Thinking you could touch anyone in my family.”
His face is turning red. Purple. His eyes bulge as he struggles for breath.
“I know what you had planned for Anya,” I continue. “I know you were gathering information on her. Digging into her past. Looking for leverage.” I lean closer until my face is inches from his. “You were going to turn my sister into one of your girls.”
He shakes his head frantically, but I see the truth in his eyes. The confirmation.
“I stopped you before you could find anything useful. Before you could hurt her.” I slam him against the wall again, and he wheezes. “But you came here anyway. You threatened her to my face. Do you have any idea how stupid that was?”
He’s gasping now, and his struggles weaken. Some distant part of my brain notes that I should stop. That I’m in my office, in the middle of the day, and killing this man here would create problems I can’t solve.
But all I can think about is Anya. Sweet, rebellious Anya, who’s been through enough in her life without scum like Viktor Sokolov adding to her pain. Who trusts me to protect her. Who has no idea how close she came to becoming another one of his victims.
I think about our mother. About what she did to us. About the years of abuse and manipulation that left scars none of us talk about.
Anya survived that. She doesn’t deserve to be prey for another predator.
I squeeze harder.
“Menlow, stop!”
The voice cuts through my rage like a blade. I freeze with my hand still wrapped around Viktor’s throat and turn my head.
Kirsten is in the doorway. She must have forgotten something.
And now she’s staring at me with horror written across every feature.
“Let him go,” she pleads. “Please. You’re going to kill him.”
I look back at Viktor. His face is purple, his lips are blue, and his eyes are rolling back in his head. Another few seconds and he’ll be unconscious. Another minute after that, and he’ll be dead.
I release him.
He crumples to the floor, gasping and coughing, clutching his throat with both hands. I step back, flexing my fingers, watching him writhe without feeling anything but cold satisfaction.
“Menlow.” Kirsten’s voice again. Softer now, but still scared. “What… What is this? Who is he?”
I don’t answer. Can’t answer. Because if I open my mouth right now, I don’t know what will come out.
The door bursts open behind Kirsten, and Pavel rushes in. He takes one look at Viktor on the floor, then at me, then at Kirsten standing frozen between us.
“Jesus Christ,” he mutters. “I told you not to do anything stupid.”
“Get him out of here.”
Pavel moves past Kirsten and hauls Viktor to his feet. The older man is still gasping, still clutching his throat, but Pavel shows no mercy. He twists Viktor’s arm behind his back and shoves him toward the door.
“This isn’t over,” Viktor rasps. “You’ll pay for this—”
Pavel slams him against the doorframe. “Shut up.” He looks at me over his shoulder. “I’ll handle him. Clean this up.”
Then they’re gone, and I’m alone with Kirsten.
She hasn’t moved. She’s still standing in the same spot, holding onto her purse, staring at me like she’s never seen me before.
“Kirsten—”
“Who was that?” Her voice trembles. “What did he do?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“Doesn’t matter?” She gestures wildly at the spot where Viktor fell. “You were killing him, Menlow. I saw his face. He was dying.”
“He’s alive.”
“Barely!”
I take a step toward her, and she takes a step back. The movement is small, instinctive, but it tells me everything I need to know.
She’s afraid of me.
“I can explain,” I try.
“Then explain.” She crosses her arms, but I can see her hands shaking. “Tell me who that man was. Tell me what he did that made you want to kill him in your own office in the middle of the day.”
The words are right there. I could tell her everything. About Viktor’s operation. About Anya. About the women we found last night, broken and hollow-eyed.
But the way she’s looking at me right now… She already thinks I’m a monster. Telling her the truth won’t change that. It might even make it worse.
“Not now,” I tell her. “I can’t do this right now.”
“Can’t or won’t?”
“Both.”
She stares at me for a long moment. I watch the emotions cycle across her face—fear, confusion, anger, hurt. Then something in her seems to shut down. The walls go back up, brick by brick, and the woman who laughed in my arms two nights ago disappears behind them.
“Fine,” she declares. “Keep your secrets.”
She turns and walks out of my office without another word.
I stand there for a long moment, staring at the empty doorway. Then I look down at my hands. The hands that almost killed a man. The hands that have held Kirsten, touched her, made her cry out my name.
The same hands.
I walk to my desk and sit down heavily. My phone vibrates with a text from Pavel: Package secured. Will handle from here.
I don’t respond. I just stare at the dent in the wall where Viktor’s head hit, and I wonder if I’ve just lost something I didn’t even know I wanted to keep.