Chapter 26 - Katya
The distinct smell of oil and rubber is comforting in a way nothing else has been lately. I carefully pull off the side panel of a Yamaha with a level of focus I’ve missed.
It feels good to be back in my element, even if the garage is new and doesn’t feel entirely like mine just yet, even if I’m technically still under watch.
I half-heartedly tried to fight Sergey on the matter of having a bodyguard parked outside, since that wasn’t exactly the most immersive thing for me, but I knew I could only push back so far before it became a problem.
And with the garage put in front of me, I didn’t want it taken away just as easily.
So, I agreed, and I’ve been escorted to work since. Besides, he’s one of the Lukov men who doesn’t talk much but keeps a close eye, and occasionally strolls inside to make sure everything’s alright before returning to his station.
Sergey says it’s for my protection, and for once, I don’t argue. After everything that’s happened, I know better, and while I won’t say it to him directly, I appreciate the backup.
Still, guard or not, the space is mine. Sergey bought it for me fully equipped and spotless, though it didn’t stay that way for long. I already have half the tools out of place and a few half-finished projects scattered around. There’s a sense of peace here, even if it wasn’t of my making.
And of course, there’s Roland.
He has two full rebuilds underway, with one vehicle jacked up while he works on the underside. He whistles along with the radio while he works, and for a moment, it feels just like before.
The two of us taking on the world, chasing down business and pursuing the lives we want to lead.
But this time, Sergey’s also in the picture, and while he’s still a mild point of contention for Roland, he’s been civil enough about it. I’m pretty sure he mostly agreed to relocate just to keep an eye on me, but either way, I don’t mind.
At least he’s here and giving me a sense of normalcy I’ve been begging for.
“And where’s the husband off to today?” Roland asks while he searches for the wrench he needs, glancing over at me with a knowing look.
I pull in a breath while I place the side panel down and set up the space to start painting. “Out being busy, I assume.”
“He’s always busy, but you never say with what.”
“That’s because I don’t always know what,” I tell him simply, not wanting to dive too deeply into his business. “And I don’t want to know. He has his thing, and I have mine.”
Roland hums to himself, not letting up on that knowing lilt. “He can pull some strings quickly. Most guys like that have quite a bit of power and aren’t always the most truthful. Is that something you want?”
It was hard for Roland to accept that I was married to Sergey in the first place, and I know he had my best interests in mind, but I had to throw in a couple of white lies to ensure he didn’t fly off the handle.
He still can’t understand how everything happened so quickly, but he does his best to approach the topic carefully, at least.
“I know what you’re alluding to…and yes, he’s in the same world as my brother, but Sergey’s not like that with me.”
Roland sighs. “But you worked so hard to stay away from that kind of thing, and now you’re quite literally married to one of them.
I know I agreed to come here, but I’m worried about you, Kat.
I’ve been around Yuri’s men before, and I know what they’re like.
Just because Sergey’s from another family, it doesn’t mean he’s any different. ”
“I know,” I tell him again, trying to be as placating as I can be while still standing my ground. “But I just need you to trust me. A lot has happened, and I wouldn’t be this civil with Sergey if I didn’t think things might work out. He’s not as bad as you think.”
Finally conceding, Roland nods and returns to his place under the lifted frame. “Alright, alright…fine. This is me giving everything a chance and taking your word for it.” He lifts a brow and points the wrench at me. “But if he does anything remotely close to hurting you, I’ll kick his ass.”
My lips pull at that, and I nod. “I know you will.”
With a mutual understanding, we slip back into our usual rhythm, busying ourselves with our respective projects.
By late afternoon, the front door chimes, pulling me from my work.
I glance up, wiping my hands on a rag and pulling my mask down as two men step in from the front. They’re both dressed like they don’t belong. Their clothes are too clean, and almost too put-together to be car guys.
One’s tall and broad, with a shaved head and sharp eyes. The other is leaner with a grin that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. He nods towards me in a subtle greeting.
“Are you Kat?" the broader one asks, approaching with a friendly-enough smile, but it’s enough to make me pause.
"That’s me," I reply, standing straighter. I put the spray gun down and glance over to Roland, where he idly works while keeping an eye on the exchange.
“I heard you’re the one running the show here. We’re looking for someone to do some custom work on a couple of our bikes. It’s nothing crazy…just a few paint jobs for our friends. Do you take walk-ins?"
“That depends on the job," I say, eyeing them both carefully.
Something about the lean one’s expression sets off a quiet alarm in my head, and I feel as my usual guard goes up. He’s not looking at me, but instead, he’s scanning the place, taking in our work and the tools around us. He lingers on one of the workbenches and takes slow steps closer.
"We’re just scoping things out," the first guy adds quickly to divert any uncertainty, likely noticing my hesitation. “We heard this place just opened and thought we’d stop by to see if you were taking on clients.”
"Sure," I say slowly, lingering by my station while I try to keep an eye on both of them without bringing too much attention to myself. “Names?”
"Mike," the broad one says before hiking his thumb over his shoulder. “And that’s Chris.”
Chris doesn’t bother looking at me. Instead, he moves closer to Roland, slipping out of my view while asking him a question. The moment I can’t see him, my stomach drops.
“Something wrong?” Mike asks, grinning in a way that makes my skin crawl on instinct.
But the moment I meet his gaze, I catch a loud crash behind me.
Whipping around, I watch as Roland hits the floor, slumping against the car frame next to where he was working. Chris appears from around the other side with a bigger wrench clutched in his hand.
He just…there’s no way…
"Roland!" I shout as an immediate flood of adrenaline propels me forward, but Mike grabs me roughly from behind before I can slip away.
"Don’t make this harder than it needs to be," he growls in my ear, dropping that false friendliness from before.
Not giving in, I thrash, elbowing back as hard as I can, but it’s almost impossible to find purchase. “Let me go now—”
“There’s no point shouting for help either,” Chris adds casually while he steps over Roland’s unconscious body. "We took care of your pesky guard before we came in."
Panic rises in my chest hard and fast. The one line of defense I had is gone, and it’s just me now. There’s nobody else to help.
Immediately, my head jumps to him. To Sergey.
This is exactly why he wanted me to have security in the first place, and he’s going to lose his mind.
I shout anyway, kicking and twisting as best as I can, recalling the defense training I once had, but as hard as I fight, it’s useless.
Mike clamps something cold and damp over my mouth, cutting off my attempts to call anyone for help. The almost clinical whiff of chemicals hits me hard, and my breath catches.
I know what this is…what it means.
The garage spins around me before long, then it fades to nothing.
***
My pounding head is the first thing that registers.
Slowly, sensations creep in little by little until my limbs feel like cement. For a second, all I see is darkness, and everything feels distant, almost like I’m underwater.
Then a voice cuts through the haze, reaching me with a familiar sharpness.
"I thought you were smarter than this, Kitty.”
Like a wave, everything comes rushing in, and I blink against the bright light that assaults my senses. My vision swims until it settles on the last face I want to see right now. The one I thought I had escaped.
Yuri.
He paces in front of me, wearing all black pants and a cut-off shirt, and his expression twists in a scowl. The room is surprisingly open, but dark aside from the light above us. The concrete seems to hold the cold air in.
I feel the frigid metal of a chair beneath me, and at a glance, I find myself bound to it. Not tightly, but enough to make a point. Enough to keep me where Yuri wants me.
I swallow against my dry throat. “You haven’t called me that since we were kids.”
Yuri pauses the moment I speak, glancing at me without betraying anything. “Good…I’m glad you’re awake," he utters, folding his arms. "We need to talk."
"Jesus, Yuri," I croak, hating how sore my throat feels and how much effort it takes for me to form each word. "You had Roland knocked out and drugged me just to ‘talk’?"
He doesn’t flinch at the accusation. “I did what I had to. You certainly didn’t leave me much choice."
I glare at him. "There’s always a choice, and you chose the worst possible one.”
"You married him,” he says plainly, standing over me with a complete lack of warmth. He may be my brother, but he sure doesn’t act like it. At least, not until it conveniences him. The words hang heavily between us. “You chose a Lukov over your own brother.”
"Don’t make it sound like it was a romantic choice," I snap. "It was a strategy on his end, and he forced me into it. You know that."
“I do,” he says pointedly, dark eyes narrowing slightly.
“And yet, you had every chance to get away and come to me that night at the casino. You could’ve given in, both joining me and handing Sergey over, but instead, you ran off.
You could’ve helped secure our family’s legacy here, but instead, you stayed with him.
He and his brothers are nothing but tyrants. ”
“Like you’re any different,” I return, feeling as my emotions begin to heighten. “I made it clear that I wanted nothing to do with this.”
“No, because you’ve been stubborn and blind to everything you could’ve had by joining me. You’re supposed to be mine to protect," he spits, not afraid to make his disdain clear. "Not his to use."
My heart clenches at his accusations, finding myself resisting any negative connotation when it comes to Sergey now. Especially while knowing Yuri would’ve had a worse fate lined up for me. “He hasn’t used me, but you would have. The choice was obvious.”
Anger sparks in his eyes, but Yuri seemingly pushes it down and sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose.
"I didn’t want this. You were supposed to come with me and help me secure our place here.
You wouldn’t have had to do anything but follow my lead.
I would’ve let you stay away from the gritty details. ”
“You make it sound like a partnership, but that’s not how it would be. Besides, even brushing against this life is the last thing I want. I told you as much a hundred times, but you never listened. You and Dad pushed and pushed, then you let him die."
His eyes flare with anger at the mention of it. "That wasn’t on me. Dad was a fool for allying with the Nikolaevs. He did all of that on his own.”
“Maybe that’s true, but you escalated things after the fact. Your actions drove the Lukovs to act, and you made it impossible for me to stay out of it,” I return, letting my voice rise to match his. “I never would’ve been on their radar otherwise.”
He stares at me with something unreadable in his eyes, then he shakes his head. "It doesn’t matter anymore. I’ve got you back as I planned, and now we can do things differently.”
My brows pinch together as I stare at him in disbelief. “And you think kidnapping me is going to fix this? That ignoring my wishes again will mend things?”
"I think removing Sergey and his bastard brothers from the equation will."
That makes me freeze. It shouldn’t come as a surprise, but it does anyway.
Without waiting for me to respond, Yuri walks to one of the doors nearby, then pauses with his hand on the handle. "Stay put, Kitty. I’ll handle everything soon enough.”
And with that, he leaves.
I hear as the others walk around the place, and catch some of their figures moving through the relative dark. My heart clenches, and I want nothing more than to yell at Yuri to never call me that again.
That he lost the right to be affectionate in any capacity the moment he saw me as a commodity rather than a sister. The day he allowed the prospect of wealth and power to corrupt him.
He’s not the older brother he once was, as hard as it is to admit.
And I won’t let him hurt Sergey. Not when we’ve finally reached a good place.
I’m not a doll that can be moved and puppeteered, and as much as I’ve tried to suppress it, I am my father’s daughter.