Chapter 20
Chapter Twenty
Rodion
We rush out of the bar and almost collide with the doorman, Roman, who is more than an hour late for the staff meeting.
His tall, broad frame stands in contrast to his youthful, rounded cheeks complete with dimples.
His hair is a tangled mess of unkempt waves, and he is wearing a gray tracksuit and worn-out trainers.
Who shows up to meet their new boss dressed like an out-of-work slob?
He disgusts me.
“What’s happening?” he asks, pulling earphones from his ears, sensing the urgency of our departure.
“You’re fucking fired, that’s what. Now fuck off,” I grind out, shoving at his chest to move past him toward Viktor’s car.
“What the fuck? Why?” he protests, disbelief etching lines across his brow.
“Because he fucking says so,” Z bellows over his shoulder while slipping into the back seat of Viktor’s car. “If you wanted more of an explanation, you should have shown up on time.”
We hate lazy employees. It’s disrespect straight out the gate and needs to be squashed. Usually under Z’s actual boot, but we have more important things going on right now.
Viktor peels out of the club parking lot, leaving Roman throwing his hands in the air in the rearview mirror.
We don’t stop at stop signs or traffic lights, the world flickers past in flashes of blurred color.
The engine roars as we careen around corners.
Every second that passes, my heart rate becomes more frantic.
“What did she actually say?” Z asks for the tenth time, his knee bouncing against the back of my seat.
“I told you,” Viktor replies tersely, gripping the steering wheel, his knuckles turning white as he takes a tight corner. “She couldn’t string a coherent sentence together.”
If he’s not careful we could end up like Jeremiah, in a ball of flames over the cliff.
“Do you think someone else attacked her?” I question a million different scenarios playing out in my head. What if the nun woman’s accomplice found her?
“No, she was delirious, as if she had a fever or something.”
“It’s the fucking wound,” Z growls from the backseat, his voice rising. “We should have taken her to the hospital."
“Hospitals ask questions that she can’t afford to answer,” I remind him, my thoughts racing as I think of the consequences of not taking her for help.
“What wound?” Viktor flits his eyes to the rearview to look back at Z.
“A slice from a blade across her abdomen,” I inform him. “We glued it shut.”
And now it’s likely infected. Fuck.
“I have a doctor,” he rushes out, bringing up a number on a dashboard screen, and hitting the call button with one hand while skillfully maneuvering the car with the other.
After three rings, a woman answers, her voice resonating through the car’s speakers. “Tanner, I’m at work.” She’s all business but with a hint of annoyance.
“Then leave it. I need you right now. I’ll text you the address,” he replies in an authoritative tone, cutting off any chance for her to respond before he ends the call.
“Will she show up?” I ask, unsure and full of anxiety.
“Yes,” he assures me without hesitation, tossing his cell phone into my lap. “Text Alyona’s address to the last number I called.”
The second the car is stopped in her driveway and I climb out of the front seat, Z bolts from the vehicle like his ass is on fire.
I place a hand on Viktor’s arm, halting him from rushing off.
I don’t know why it matters. It shouldn't, but it does. I have to ask or it’ll make me crazy.
“Is there something going on between you and her?”
“Me and the doctor?” He raises a brow, confusion flickering in his eyes.
I let out a frustrated sigh. “Alyona.”
Tipping his head back, his eyes shifting to the sky and he takes a moment before he answers.
Eventually he shakes his head slowly and meets my gaze.
“There are very few people I genuinely like, and even fewer I can tolerate. I was cast out because of who I am. Alyona has never viewed me in any light other than my true self, the good, the bad, and the unsettling parts of me that mirror my father’s darkness.
” He pauses, taking a deep breath, his eyes softening.
“She’s my friend, Rodion. That’s all it is. ”
Relief exhales from my chest, filling me with a sense of ease I didn’t know I needed. It’s one thing to know that Alyona has had a relationship with Jeremiah, but he was a stranger, a nobody, a fucking dead man now.
But Viktor is one of us. It’s more personal. It would matter.
As we approach the front door, Zahkar emerges from the side of the house. "It's all locked up," he says, with manic movements.
"I took a key when we were here," I reply without elaborating further. Zahkar understands my reasons for taking it. I’m surprised he doesn’t pull one from his pocket too.
As I turn the key in the lock, a flicker of fear flashes across Z’s face.
He grips my hand tightly over the key, his other hand pressing against his chest as if to steady a turbulent heartbeat.
His blue eyes widen with alarm, and his jaw clenches, his teeth grinding.
I can see his chest heaving as the weight of panic takes hold, every breath coming in quick, shallow gasps.
The anxiety radiating from him is palpable.
He’s terrified of what lies beyond the door.
Z is the essence of brave, strong, and confident.
Fear has never been a part of his identity.
Nothing scares him, or at least it didn’t—until now—until her.
“Z?” I whisper, grasping his jaw and tugging him toward me until his forehead rests against mine. “It’s going to be okay. I promise.”
I’m praying with everything I am that I can keep that promise as I finish turning the key.
Releasing him, he nods, removing his hand from mine. “One Mississippi, two Mississippi…” he begins mumbling under his breath.
Pushing the front door fully open, I call out to Alyona, deliberately lowering my voice to avoid startling her and risking a boot or a blade in my face.
Given that an assassin woman ended up dead in her bathroom, I’m not taking any chances.
“It’s just us,” I say, my shoes tapping against her tiled floor.
Viktor stalks past us, clearly oblivious to Alyona’s training and ability to defend herself.
“Shit,” Viktor barks, rushing toward a slumped-over Alyona.
She’s propped up against Roza’s bedroom door, a phone in one hand and a kitchen knife in the other.
Her blonde hair hangs haphazardly around her face, brushing the floor.
Dropping to my knees beside Viktor, I can sense the panic in him as he gently lifts her chin.
Just then, I notice her eyes snapping open wide with shock, and in one swift motion, she jolts awake and swings the knife out instinctively, the blade slicing cleanly through Viktor’s tie as he narrowly dodges the attack.
“Woah, woah, calm down! It’s me, Viktor,” he barks out, moving back to avoid another swing.
“Vi…ktoor?” she stutters, her voice trembling as recognition slowly creeps into her expression, mixing confusion with relief. “I don’t feel gooood.”
Blowing out a shaky breath, I reach for the knife, carefully pushing it out of her trembling fingers and out of reach. Scooping her into my arms, I whisper softly, “It’s okay, love. We’re here now. You’re safe.”
Her eyes well with tears as she looks up at me, her voice barely above a whisper. “No, you hate me, you hate me,” she insists, her words thick and slurred.
Yeah, well, I hate myself more for fucking loving you. Because loving you nearly killed me when you left.
“Whether I love you or hate you, it doesn’t matter. I’ll always come for you, liybimaya.” My love. It’s a promise wrapped around my soul.
“She’s on fire,” Viktor says, pressing the backs of his fingers to her forehead. “We need to get her cooled down. Now.”
“A bath,” I announce, jerking my head in the direction of Alyona’s room. She has a shower and a bathtub in her en-suite.
“Your brother didn’t come inside,” Viktor announces once we’re in her bathroom and he's filling the tub with cold water. I balance on the edge of the tub clutching Alyona in my arms.
“Go tell him she’s okay. Tell him I need him.”
He leaves and Zahkar appears in the doorway thirty seconds later. His eyes fall on Alyona, who is limp and pale in my arms.
“She just has a fever, Z. I need you to help me get her clothes off,” I explain, urgency creeping into my voice.
Without a word, Z nods. He approaches and begins to strip away her clothes carefully, placing each piece in a pile by the sink. Blue and black bruises spread across her fair skin like grim artwork. The cut on her stomach is raised, inflamed and swollen, with red, patchy skin encircling it.
“Shit, that looks infected,” I murmur.
Without hesitation, Zahkar removes his own clothes and doesn’t even wince when he steps into the cold water and sits down. He holds his arms out for me to transfer Alyona to him.
“No,” she cries out, gasping when her bare skin hits the cold water.
“It’s okay, I’ve got you,” Z finally speaks, his voice a soothing whisper as he gently tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear.
She burrows into his chest with a quiet sigh, seeking comfort in his warmth.
She curls around him, drawing close like a flower leaning toward the sun, desperate for his light to mend her.
My eyes trace down their entwined form and my lungs constrict at the beauty of them together. We missed her so damn fucking much it’s painful. Despite myself, my dick thickens at the sight of their naked bodies. Flesh to flesh. Home in each other’s arms.