CHAPTER 16
LIAM P.O.V.
The cold air of the cabin bit at my skin, raising goosebumps, but the inferno in my gut, the one Rose had just stoked, kept the real chill at bay.
Her body, soft and pliant, was still draped over mine, her breath ragged against my neck.
She trembled, the tremors echoing the violent release that had just consumed us both.
My fucking Rose. She was a paradox: delicate curves hiding a spine of steel, a soft mouth that cursed like a sailor, and eyes that saw through my bullshit, even as they clung to mine with desperate need.
She’d saved me. Not with a gun or a knife, but with a raw, undeniable fire that had burned away the edges of my pain, temporarily, at least.
My side throbbed, a dull ache that blossomed into a sharp, insistent protest with every shallow breath.
The thick bandage she’d wrapped around me felt like a cage, chafing against the angry skin.
Gash. The doctor’s words echoed in my head, a grim diagnosis I’d pushed aside.
I was a goddamn Pakhan, for fuck’s sake, not some street thug who got shanked in an alley.
But Volkov’s knife had found its mark. The old bastard had gotten lucky. Or I’d gotten careless.
I clenched my jaw, the shame burning hotter than the physical wound.
I was supposed to be untouchable, an unyielding force.
Yet here I was, bleeding, vulnerable, my strength sapped, and my woman—my woman—had to drag my ass through the mud to save me.
The thought was both infuriating and intoxicating.
She was mine, and she’d proven it in the most brutal, undeniable way possible.
She hadn’t flinched. She hadn’t run. She’d plunged her hands into my blood and brought me back from the edge.
Her weight settled more heavily on me, and I grunted, a quiet, guttural sound.
Her head lifted, her eyes, wide and still dilated, searching mine.
There was concern there, raw and unfiltered, but also a fierce pride.
She saw me. The ruthless bastard, the bleeding man, the desperate lover. And she didn’t look away.
“Are you alright?” she whispered, her voice hoarse, her lips still swollen from my savage kisses. She touched the side of my face, her fingers cool against my burning skin.
“Define ‘alright,’ moya roza,” I rasped, the words thick with lingering desire and the metallic tang of blood in my mouth. “I just got carved up, watched men die, and fucked my way through a goddamn panic attack. But you... you’re still here. So, yeah. I’m alright.”
A faint, almost imperceptible smile touched her lips, quickly replaced by a frown of worry.
She shifted, starting to pull away, but my hand shot out, gripping her hip, holding her captive against my body.
The contact sent a jolt of fire through me, reminding me that even broken, I could still claim.
“Where do you think you’re going?” I growled, my voice a low, possessive rumble.
“To check your wound. And to get you something for the pain, if Vasily managed to scavenge anything useful.” She tried to pull away again, her movements gentle, careful not to jostle my side.
“It can wait,” I snarled, pulling her back down, burying my face in the curve of her neck, inhaling her scent—sweat, come, and something uniquely her, something wild and intoxicating. “Just... stay here. For a minute.”
It was a plea, raw and uncharacteristic, and the admission chafed at my pride.
But the words were out, and the truth of them resonated deep in my bones.
I needed her. Not just as a strategist, not just as a body to fuck, but as an anchor in this raging storm.
She understood. She didn’t fight. Her body relaxed against mine, her hand stroking the hair at the nape of my neck.
The sounds of battle were still a muffled echo in the distance, a constant reminder of Volkov, of the blood that still needed to be spilled. But in this small, hidden cabin, wrapped in Rose’s warmth, a fragile peace settled over me. It was short-lived, I knew, but for now, it was everything.
“Vasily needs to make contact,” I said, my voice rough, pushing past the momentary reprieve. My mind, even in its fog of pain and post-orgasmic haze, was already calculating, planning. “He needs to rally the remaining men. Find out the casualty count. Get a goddamn status report.”
Rose shifted, carefully, until she was propped up on her elbows, looking down at me.
Her expression was grim, but her eyes, those sharp, discerning eyes, held a fierce resolve that mirrored my own.
“He’s trying. His comms were jammed, just like ours.
Volkov’s covering his tracks. But he’s out there, trying to find a clear channel.
I heard him before we went... quiet.” She gave me a pointed look, a silent jab at my impulsiveness.
I grunted. “Expected. The old bastard might be predictable, but he’s not stupid. He anticipated our push on his archives. The convoy... was it intercepted?”
Rose shook her head, a strand of auburn hair falling across my chest. “Not entirely. Some trucks were stopped, but others got through. The blockade on the main highway, the one Volkov set... it bought him the time he needed. The rest of the archives are likely secured in his fortress now. We missed our chance there.”
A fresh wave of fury, cold and sharp, washed over me, overriding the ache in my side.
Fuck. He was playing us. He’d played me.
He’d used the ambush in Red Hook, the fortified storage facility, and the blockade as a goddamn smokescreen.
He wanted to draw us in, break our forces, and then retreat to his stronghold, untouchable.
“He thinks he’s safe there,” I snarled, the words a low, guttural promise of vengeance. “He thinks he can hide behind those mountains, those ancient walls. He thinks he can outwit me.” My eyes, dark and dangerous, locked onto Rose’s. “He doesn’t know what he’s truly unleashed.”
She met my gaze, a flicker of something terrifying, exhilarating, in her own eyes. “No,” she whispered, her fingers tracing the line of my jaw, a ghost of a touch. “He doesn’t. He underestimated you. And he definitely underestimated me.”
My hand moved, reaching for her, gripping her bare ass, pulling her harder against my still-hard cock. “Smart girl. We’re going to make him regret every goddamn breath he takes. Every choice he made. You and I.”
The cabin door creaked open, startling us both. Vasily stood in the doorway, a hulking shadow against the faint predawn light filtering through the trees. His face was grim, streaked with dirt and blood, but his eyes, when they met mine, held a familiar spark of fierce loyalty.
“Pakhan!” he breathed, relief warring with grim resolve in his voice. He didn’t question Rose’s nakedness, or her position on top of me. Some things didn’t need explanation in this world. “Thank God. We lost contact. The men... they thought the worst.”
“I’m fine,” I snapped, pushing Rose gently off me, ignoring the fresh protest from my wound. “Status report. Now. Where are we?”
Vasily entered, closing the door behind him, bringing with him the acrid smell of gunpowder and fresh blood.
He dropped a satchel on the dusty floor, pulling out a battered comms unit.
“Anton’s team is consolidating, Pakhan. Heavy losses, but they pushed through the highway blockade.
They chased the last of Volkov’s convoy to the perimeter of his main fortress in the Catskills.
They’re regrouping now, holding a defensive line, waiting for orders. ”
“And Volkov?” I demanded, my eyes narrowed, my mind already working through the implications. “Is he there? Did he make it to his fortress?”
Vasily nodded, his jaw tight. “Yes, Pakhan. Recon confirms. He’s there. And he’s entrenched. The fortress is heavily fortified, more than we anticipated. It’s a goddamn concrete bunker, buried deep in the mountains.”
A dangerous smile, devoid of humor, spread across my lips. Good. He was there. Cornered. Exactly where I wanted him. The fox had run to his hole. Now we just had to dig him out.
“The explosives in Red Hook,” I pressed, looking at Rose, who was now pulling on her torn robe, her eyes still fixed on the comms unit. “Did his men manage to detonate them fully? What was the damage?”
“Partial detonation, Pakhan,” Vasily reported.
“The rapid response team contained most of it, but two blocks are gone. News is saying it was a gas leak, but no one’s buying it.
The city is a powder keg. Volkov is trying to use it to distract.
To make it look like a war between factions, to create chaos. ”
“And my father’s old mentor, Konstantin Volkov,” I mused, the name a bitter taste on my tongue. “He thought he could manipulate me, just like he manipulated Dmitri. Just like he manipulated my father.”
Rose stepped forward, her hand finding its way to my bare shoulder, a silent gesture of support.
Her presence was a grounding force, her mind already buzzing with new possibilities.
“He’s using the chaos to move his other assets, the ones he kept hidden outside the archives.
He’s still trying to outmaneuver you, Liam.
He’s not just waiting for us. He’s preparing a counter-strike, a larger one.
He wants to hit us when we least expect it, when we’re focused on his fortress. ”
I nodded slowly, her words confirming my own suspicions. Volkov was an old dog, but he still had teeth. He wouldn’t go down without a fight. And he wouldn’t just sit there, waiting for us to come knocking.
“Vasily, get me a map of the Catskills,” I ordered, pushing myself up despite the searing pain in my side. Rose immediately moved to support me, her arm sliding around my waist. I leaned on her, not out of weakness, but out of an instinctive trust. She was my rock, my fucking anchor.
“We need to anticipate his counter-strike,” I continued, my gaze sweeping over the grim faces of my men. “Where would he hit us? Where’s our most vulnerable point, now that he knows our forces are concentrated at his fortress?”
Rose’s eyes, sharp and intelligent, scanned the imaginary map in her mind, her brow furrowed in concentration.
“His main source of income, aside from the archives. The old smuggling routes. The port operations. He’ll try to cripple those, or take them over, while we’re busy up here.
He’ll hit us where it hurts financially. ”
“Sergei, divert a contingent to reinforce our port operations. Secure the docks. Double the patrols on the smuggling routes,” I barked, my voice regaining its customary authority, despite the pain that still gnawed at me. “We won’t let him bleed us dry.”
But the fortress. Volkov. He was the root of this entire fucking mess. He was the puppet master, the one who had driven Dmitri insane, the one who had pulled the strings on my own father. And now, he was cornered.
“What about the fortress itself, Pakhan?” Vasily asked, his voice low, almost hesitant. “Anton’s men are taking heavy fire. The defenses are impenetrable. We can’t just storm it.”
I looked at Rose, my eyes burning with a dangerous resolve.
She was already ahead of me, her mind racing, connecting the dots.
“He has a network of tunnels,” she said, her voice soft but firm, tapping an invisible point on the dusty wooden table.
“Underground passages, built for emergencies. My research into his old blueprints... they showed a series of hidden access points, forgotten routes used for cold war bunkers. There has to be a way in.”
My eyes widened. Tunnels. Of course. The old bastard was a rat. He’d built his nest to be unassailable, but he’d also built his escape routes. And his entry points.
“Vasily, get a team down there, scouting the perimeter,” I ordered, a new urgency in my voice. “I want every inch of that mountain surveyed. Every crevice, every rock face. Find those goddamn tunnels. Find the back door into Volkov’s lair.”
Rose met my gaze, a fierce, unwavering determination burning in her eyes. She was a goddamn witch, my brilliant, beautiful witch. She was giving me the key. The key to Volkov’s destruction.
“He thinks he’s safe there,” I snarled, my voice a low, guttural promise that echoed through the small cabin.
“He thinks he’s hidden. He thinks he’s untouchable.
” My hand found Rose’s, squeezing tightly, a shared pact, a silent promise.
“We’re going to show him, moya roza. We’re going to show him that there’s no place on this earth he can hide from us. ”
The comms unit crackled to life, Sergei’s voice, sharp and urgent, cutting through the tense silence.
“Pakhan! Recon drone spotted something. An old, disused ventilation shaft, near the base of the fortress. Hidden by dense overgrowth. It leads deep underground. It matches the schematics Rose found.”
A slow, dangerous smile spread across my lips. Volkov. The old rat. He was finally cornered. And we were coming for him.