Chapter 15 Sophia
SOPHIA
The warehouse looms before me like a tomb, its broken windows staring down like hollow eyes.
My heart hammers against my ribs as I step out of the SUV.
The wire taped between my breasts feels like it’s burning through my skin.
The small pistol tucked into the waistband at the small of my back is a cold comfort, hidden beneath the loose sweater Mikhail insisted I wear.
I force my legs to move, each step toward the warehouse entrance feeling like I’m walking through quicksand.
The afternoon sun beats down on my shoulders, but I’m cold all over.
When things go wrong, not if. We all know Adrian has no intention of letting any of us walk out of here alive.
The warehouse door stands open, a rectangle of darkness that seems to swallow all light.
I pause at the threshold, my hand instinctively moving toward the gun at my back before I force it down to my side.
They’ll search me.
They have to know I’d come armed.
“Hello?” My voice echoes in the cavernous space. “I’m here. Let Melinda go.”
Footsteps emerge from the shadows, and three men materialize, their weapons trained on me.
I recognize one of them from the attack on the mansion, a scar running down his left cheek like a lightning bolt.
“Arms up,” Scarface orders.
I raise my hands slowly, my pulse thundering in my ears.
His hands are rough as he pats me down, finding the pistol immediately.
He tosses it aside with a clatter that makes me flinch.
“She’s clean,” he calls over his shoulder.
“Not quite.” Another man steps forward and runs a device over my body.
It beeps when it passes over my chest, and my blood turns to ice.
He rips open my sweater, buttons scattering across the concrete floor, and tears the wire from my skin.
The adhesive pulls painfully, but I don’t make a sound.
“Well, well. Mrs. Artyomov. So good of you to join us.” Adrian’s voice drifts from deeper in the warehouse. “Trying to be clever? I expected better from you.”
The men grab my arms and drag me forward.
My sneakers scrape against the floor as I struggle to keep my footing.
The warehouse opens into a vast space filled with rusted machinery and broken crates.
And there, in the center under a single hanging light, is Melinda.
“Oh god.” The words escape before I can stop them.
She’s tied to a metal chair, her blonde hair matted with dried blood.
Her swollen eye looks worse in person, and her lip is split and crusted over.
Bruises mottle her arms in shades of purple and yellow.
When she sees me, she makes a sound that might be my name, but it comes out garbled through her damaged mouth.
“Melinda.” I lunge forward, but the men holding me jerk me back. “Let her go. I’m here. That was the deal.”
“The deal.” Adrian steps into the light, and I get my first clear look at the man who’s been orchestrating our nightmare.
He’s tall, maybe six-even, with graying black hair with a mustache and short beard to match, and eyes so dark they look almost black.
A scar runs across his throat, pale against his olive skin.
He’s wearing an expensive suit that seems absurd in this decrepit place. “You think I make deals with the Artyomovs?”
He circles me slowly, and I force myself to stand still, to meet his gaze without flinching. Up close, I can see the cruelty in the set of his mouth, the cold calculation in his eyes.
“Your father was a fool,” Adrian says conversationally. “Did you know that? Vincent Moretti, the great enforcer, reduced to a sniveling coward begging for his life.”
My hands clench into fists. “My father was trying to protect his family.”
“Your father was trying to save his own skin.” Adrian stops in front of me, so close I can smell his cologne, something expensive and cloying.
“He came to me six months ago, desperate for money. Said he had information about the Artyomov family that would be worth millions. Information about Nicole’s death. ”
The name sends a chill down my spine. “What are you talking about?”
“Your father knew who really orchestrated Nicole’s rape.” Adrian’s smile is predatory. “He knew it wasn’t just a random attack by desperate men. He knew there was someone pulling the strings, someone with everything to gain from destroying Mikhail Artyomov’s family.”
My mind races, trying to piece together what he’s saying. “You. You were behind it.”
“Not just me.” Adrian turns away, moving toward a table covered with photographs.
“Your father and I, we had a mutually beneficial arrangement. He provided information about Mikhail’s operations, and I provided the money to keep his gambling debts at bay.
But then he got greedy. Started asking questions he shouldn’t have asked.
Started digging into things that were none of his concern. ”
He picks up a photograph and holds it out to me.
I don’t want to look, but I can’t help myself.
It shows my father, younger, standing next to Adrian and another man I don’t recognize.
They’re all smiling, drinks in hand.
“Your father helped me plan the attack on Nicole,” Adrian says, his voice matter-of-fact. “He provided the security schedules, the guard rotations, everything I needed to get my men inside that house. And in return, I paid off his debts and gave him enough money to disappear.”
“No.” The word comes out strangled. It wasn’t a drunken cruelty, crumbling from pressure from eviler men. It was so much more… “He wouldn’t. He couldn’t.”
“Oh, but he did.” Adrian tosses the photo aside.
“And then he developed a conscience. Started talking about going to Mikhail, about confessing everything. I couldn’t allow that, of course.
So I made sure Mikhail found him first. Made sure your father died believing Mikhail was his enemy, never knowing I was the one who set him up. ”
The room spins around me. “Why?” My voice cracks. “Why would you do this?”
“Because Mikhail Artyomov took something from me.” Adrian’s face twists with rage, the calm mask slipping. “He killed my brother. Shot him in the head like a dog and left him in the street. So I decided to take everything from him. His sister. His empire. His peace of mind. And now, his wife.”
He pulls out a gun, the metal gleaming under the harsh light. My heart stops.
“The beautiful thing about revenge,” Adrian continues, “is that it’s never really over. Even after I kill you, even after I destroy Mikhail completely, there will always be another score to settle. Another debt to collect. That’s the world we live in, Mrs. Artyomov.”
“Please.” I hate the pleading note in my voice, but I can’t stop it. “Let Melinda go. She has nothing to do with this. She’s innocent.”
“No one is innocent.” Adrian gestures to his men. “Bring her.”
They drag me toward Melinda’s chair. Up close, I can see she’s barely conscious, her good eye unfocused and glassy. Blood seeps through the bandages wrapped around her wrists where the ropes have cut into her skin.
“Mel,” I whisper. “I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”
Her eye focuses on me for just a moment, and I see forgiveness there.
Forgiveness I don’t deserve.
Adrian presses the gun against Melinda’s temple. “Here’s what’s going to happen. I’m going to kill your friend while you watch. Then I’m going to kill you. And then I’m going to send the video to Mikhail so he can watch you die over and over again for the rest of his miserable life.”
“Wait.” The word bursts out of me. “Wait. If you kill us now, Mikhail will hunt you forever. He’ll never stop. But if you let us go, if you let us walk out of here, I can convince him to back off. To let this vendetta end.”
Adrian laughs, the sound echoing off the warehouse walls.
“You think I’m afraid of Mikhail Artyomov?
I’ve been three steps ahead of him this entire time.
I’ve been dismantling his empire piece by piece while he’s been too distracted by you to notice.
By the time he realizes what I’ve done, it will be too late. ”
He moves the gun from Melinda’s head to mine, pressing the cold barrel against my temple.
I close my eyes, thinking of Mikhail.
Of the way he looked at me this morning, the fear and love warring in his green eyes.
Of the way he held me last night, like I was something precious he was terrified of breaking.
I’m sorry. I’m sorry I couldn’t be stronger. I’m sorry I couldn’t save us.
“Any last words?” Adrian turns off the safety as he aims again at Melinda.
I open my eyes and look directly at him. “Yes. You made one mistake.”
His eyebrow raises. “Oh? And what’s that?”
“You assumed Mikhail would wait for a signal.”
The warehouse doors explode inward with a deafening crash.
Gunfire erupts from every direction, and Adrian’s men scatter, returning fire.
Adrian grabs me, using my body as a shield as he backs toward the rear exit.
“Clever girl,” he hisses in my ear. “But not clever enough.”
He drags me with him, the gun now pressed against my head.
Through the chaos of the firefight, I see Mikhail burst through the smoke, his face a mask of fury and fear.
Our eyes meet across the warehouse, and I see the moment he realizes Adrian has me.
“Artyomov!” Adrian shouts, his voice cutting through the gunfire. “Call off your men, or I splatter her brains all over the walls!”
The shooting stops.
The silence that follows is deafening, broken only by the sound of my ragged breathing and the ringing in my ears.
Mikhail steps forward, his gun raised but not aimed at us. “Let her go, Adrian. This is between you and me.”
“Everything is between you and me!” Adrian’s grip on me tightens, and I feel the gun press harder against my skull. “You took my brother. I took your sister. You took your revenge on Vincent Moretti. Now I take mine on you.”
“Please.” Mikhail’s voice breaks, and I’ve never heard him sound so desperate. “Please, Adrian. Take me instead. Let her go and take me.”
“No!” The word tears from my throat. “Mikhail, don’t.”
But Adrian is already laughing, a sound devoid of any humor. “How touching. The great Mikhail Artyomov, brought to his knees by a woman. Your sister would be ashamed.”
“My sister would understand.” Mikhail takes another step forward, and I see his finger tighten on the trigger. “She would understand that love is worth dying for.”
“Then let me help you with that.” Adrian’s voice turns cold, final. “Say goodbye to your wife, Artyomov.”