Chapter 13
Mina
Twenty years old
“Well, that was fun.” Rolo laughs, wiping his bloodstained daggers on his pants. “I love it when they put up a fight,” he adds, unable to hide the wicked grin on his lips, like a predator reveling in the hunt.
Remus chuckles under his breath, shaking his head in amusement at the way his twin gets such a twisted thrill in spilling Bratva’s blood.
I, on the other hand, feel nothing whatsoever. No giddy satisfaction nor guilt-ridden remorse.
Another person would worry that their moral compass was so misaligned, but not me.
It just is what it is.
As far as I’m concerned, it’s either them or us.
And I’ll always choose us.
For the past eight months, we’ve been dismantling Pavlin’s empire, piece by piece, using every secret from his little black book to strike with precision. Every location where he moved his product—gone. Every crew member we found—dead. We have him cornered, bleeding out, scrambling to keep control. But unlike us, Pavlin and his boss, Petrov, don’t have the luxury of knowing their enemy’s next move. They’re blind. Weak. And we’ll keep them that way for as long as we can.
Pavlin’s biggest mistake was writing everything down, mapping out his entire operation months in advance. Thanks to his paranoia, we know precisely where his shipments cross the border and where his men carve up his product. We don’t just attack—we erase.
By my count, Pavlin won’t last two months. If we don’t get to him first, his own Pakhan will put a bullet in his skull for the disgrace he’s brought upon their syndicate. Either way, he’s a dead man walking. The Bratva will have to claw their way out of the ruins we’ve left behind.
But I know better than to believe this war ends with him. My father knows it, too. Pavlin is just a piece of the puzzle. The Bratva will regroup. They always do. If this new Pakhan is determined to keep his foothold in London, we’ll ensure every step forward feels like wading through hell.
However, a full-scale war isn’t in the Firm’s best interest.
My father knows that. And so does Petrov.
Which is why we hit them where it hurts the most—their money. If we make it impossible for them to conduct business in the UK, they’ll have no choice but to negotiate a new peace treaty, one they will be forced to uphold.
It’s a good plan. A brutal, calculated plan. And one I’m proud to be part of even if I don’t share Rolo’s enthusiasm for death.
“Hey,” Remus nudges Jude’s shoulder, his voice light despite the blood staining his knuckles. “Thanks for the assist back there. I owe you one.”
“Not a problem. You looked like you could use some help,” Jude replies smugly, running his bruised hand through his hair.
“Hey, there were six of them and one of me. I’m good, but not that good.” Remus laughs, unbothered. “Tell you what? The next time you find yourself in a similar situation, I’ll hang back to see how you do without my help.” I watch Remus continuing to chuckle as he pats Jude on the back. Something about the amicable way he does it sticks with me.
They’re both acting like they just left the pub after having a couple of pints and some laughs instead of leaving a pile of dead bodies in their wake.
I mean, they did just raid an enemy’s warehouse and killed everyone in sight. Sure, I get why Jude and the twins are riding high after such a grueling battle, but their new-found comradery rubs me the wrong way.
Jude looks completely relaxed in the twins’ company, but he tenses up whenever he looks at me.
Needing a break from their bromance, I turn on my heel and head toward my car.
“Hey? Where are you going?” Remus calls out from behind me.
“Home!” I shout back before sliding into the front seat and slamming the door.
Unfortunately for me, Remus blocks my exit by standing in front of the hood of my car.
“Move!” I shout, turning on the headlights.
“We got shit to do, Mina. Or did you forget we still have three fuckers to take to the factory for interrogation?” He tilts his head toward the warehouse standing behind him.
“You don’t need me for that. You’ve got Rolo.”
Remus slams his palms with a loud thud on the hood and stares at me through the glass.
“Get out of the car, Mina. You go home when the rest of us do.”
My nostrils flare as I exit the car, leaving the door open and charging toward him. Remus’ spine goes ramrod straight when I shove my finger into his chest.
“Think twice before ordering me around, cousin. Don’t forget who you answer to.”
Shame flashes across his face for a split second before it hardens into a stoic mask.
“I didn’t forget. Between the two of us, you’re the one with the faulty memory. You have to set the example, cousin. Going home when the job isn’t finished yet isn’t a good look for you.”
I stew in my frustration and anger, knowing that he’s right. Unlike the twins, every move I make is constantly being monitored by the old guard, itching at the seams for me to fuck up. If I were thinking clearly, then my best course of action would be to go with them back to the old derelict factory, a place the Firm uses to work on their hostages to get some intel.
But I’m not thinking clearly. I haven’t for quite some time.
How can I when all my thoughts get hazy with memories of hotel rooms and hazel eyes any time I spend more than a few minutes in Jude’s presence?
“I’m not running away from my responsibilities, Remus. I’m delegating,” I retort, keeping my tone sharp and unyielding. “You three, along with the rest of our crew, can handle the interrogation. I, on the other hand, am going home to report today’s achievements to Felix and the boss. Is that understood?”
It’s all a load of bollocks, and Remus knows it.
Thankfully, it’s a good enough excuse for him to use if anyone asks about my whereabouts.
Without another word, Remus steps to the side and leaves me be.
I slip into my car and start the engine, my gaze flickering over to Jude for the briefest moment—just long enough for our eyes to lock.
Misery lingers in his, heavy and suffocating, stealing the air from my lungs. The suffering swimming in his beautiful eyes drowns me. However, he doesn’t allow me to see it dwell in his gaze for long. In an instant, he turns away, retreating into the warehouse, where our hostages will bear the brunt of his frustration.
Our quiet chess games have been replaced with something far more exasperating—a relentless game of hide and seek. We search for each other in stolen glances and lingering silences, only for pride to force us back into the shadows the moment we come too close.
Unwilling to remain here any longer, I drive away and head home.
I grip the steering wheel tight, the engine’s hum the only sound keeping me grounded. The narrow country road stretches ahead, swallowed by the somber night, the occasional tree casting long, skeletal shadows under the pale moonlight. I’m driving on autopilot since my mind is stuck on what I left behind me more than on the road ahead.
Still trapped back at the warehouse. Still stuck on Jude.
That look in his eyes—raw, hollow, bleeding with something he refuses to name.
I can’t shake it. I can’t shake him.
With one hand, I pull my gold pendant out and rub at it between my thumb and forefinger as I try to focus on the road. The isolated countryside is eerily quiet at this hour, the heavy darkness cloaking everything in its path. I look at the GPS and realize it will take me at least an hour to arrive at the manor. Felix and my father must be anxious to know how tonight’s sting went, so I decide to put them out of their misery by calling ahead. The sound of my phone ringing is still reverberating throughout the car when a pair of headlights appear in my rearview mirror.
My brows furrow since there hasn’t been another car on this road for miles. The vehicle behind me is moving fast, too fast, closing the distance between us at an alarming rate. Something about it makes my skin prickle.
“Sweetpea? Are you alright? Did everything go to plan?” my father’s voice rings out after answering my call.
“Yes, Dad. All good,” I say, a little too clipped, as a black SUV gets close enough for the reflection of its headlights to blind me through the rearview mirror.
“What’s wrong?” my father asks, sensing something isn’t right with me.
“Nothing I can’t handle, Daddy,” I reply lightheartedly, not to worry him.
I push down on the pedal, trying to increase the gap with the chasing vehicle, but they get closer effortlessly, to the point of slamming my rear bumper. The impact jerks me forward, the seatbelt cutting into my shoulder. My heart slams against my ribs as I fight to steady the car. Gravel spits from under the tires, but by some miracle I manage to keep it on the road.
“Mina, what was that sound?!”
I want to tell him what’s happening, but I am unable to utter a word because they hit me again, even harder than before. My car swerves violently, my breath hitching as I wrestle with the wheel, trying to keep the car on the road, but the chasers are relentless. They hit me again and again until another brutal shove sends me careening off the road.
The world tilts for what feels like an eternity, the deafening sound of the crash hurting my eardrums. Pain explodes through my skull as the airbag deploys, slamming into my face like a hammer. White-hot agony shoots through my head, and for a moment, everything is just noise—crushed metal, the hiss of a punctured tire, the distant ringing in my ears. My vision blurs as darkness threatens to creep at the edges.
I’m still gasping for breath when I notice movement through the shattered windshield. I can barely make it out at first, until I see a blurry shadow approaching, the faint sound of footsteps crunching against the dirt. As it gets closer, a familiar face with a manic grin comes into view. Even through the haze of pain, I recognize it instantly. The pale white skin. The cold, dead eyes. The two red gashes slashed across his eye and cheek—Pavlin.
My stomach twists when he opens my door, revengeful intent clear in his lifeless eyes.
My lips part, but no sound comes out.
“I knew our paths would meet again,” he says before grabbing me.
The last thing I see is his fist swing all the way back before connecting it with my face.
Then, darkness pulls me under and engulfs me whole.
Pain drags me out of the black abyss.
It starts as a dull throb in my skull, pulsing behind my eyes, then sharpens into something mean and relentless. My right eye feels swollen, the skin stretched too tight, the ache deep and unforgiving. I try to lift my hand to touch it, but I can’t. That’s when I see from my good eye that something is binding my wrists, instantly causing my panic to jolt through me like a live wire.
My breathing turns shallow as I pull against the restraints. Thick, industrial cables are wrapped tightly around my arms and legs to a single chair, biting into my skin with every jerk or yank I make. My body continues to protest with every movement I make, feeling sore, bruised, and battered.
What the hell happened?
Or better yet, where the hell am I?
Blinking through the haze, I take in my surroundings. The air is damp, tinged with the sour bite of old beer and rust. Towering metal vats stand in the darkness, their once-polished surfaces streaked with grime and dust. Broken glass crunches beneath my boots as I shift, the faint flicker of a single hanging bulb casting jagged shadows against cracked concrete walls.
It doesn’t take a genius to figure out I’m in an abandoned brewery.
Now, if I could only remember how I got here.
I suck in a slow breath, forcing my thoughts to clear long enough for me to make sense of how I got myself into this mess.
The last thing I remember was that godforsaken SUV trying to push me off the road. I remember the crash and then the airbag slamming into my face.
And then I remember… someone—Pavlin.
A shiver rakes down my spine when I recall the vengeful glint in his dead eyes.
Damn it.
Somehow, one of his men in the warehouse must have alerted him that it was being raided. I wouldn’t be surprised if he drove there and waited on the sidelines to see if we made a mistake he could exploit. If I hadn’t been in a rush to go home, then I wouldn’t have given him the perfect opportunity to kidnap me.
He knows that his life is on borrowed time with his Pakhan.
What better way to ensure he keeps breathing than handing over to his boss the only daughter of his greatest rival, all wrapped up in a tidy little bow?
I don’t have to wait long for him to make his presence known.
A door creaks open somewhere behind me, heavy footsteps echoing across the empty space in a slow, deliberate rhythm, as if he’s savoring this moment for all its worth. After the hell the Firm has given him these last months, he’s taking his time to relish his win over us.
When he steps under the light and into my line of sight, I see his ugly face.
The dim light does nothing to soften him. His pale face is as gaunt as ever, his haunting expression carved from nightmares. However, it’s his gashes that I put all my focus on—two deep slashes running down his cheek, still looking raw and angry as the day they were put in there.
I concentrate on those gashes because they serve as a reminder that Pavlin lost a battle once. And though he might be celebrating now, I’ll ensure he loses this one, too.
I wish I did those myself.
Who knows?
Maybe I’ll get the chance to add a few more to his face before the night is over.
Pavlin tilts his head to the side, studying me like some fascinating specimen trapped under glass. Then, without a word, he lifts a fist and drives it into my stomach. Pain explodes through me. My body jerks against the chair, a strangled gasp ripping from my throat as all the air rushes out of my lungs.
“So nice to see you again, Petal ,” he says, his usual posh British accent now replaced by his thick Russian one.
I grit my teeth, lifting my chin despite the fire spreading through my ribs. I won’t give him the satisfaction of seeing me in pain, nor give him reason to think he intimidates me.
“I wish I could say the same,” I rasp with a smile.
Pavlin smirks, crouching down until we’re at eye level, his breath reeking of cigarettes and stale liquor.
“Don’t worry. I think we’ll be much better acquainted by the time we’re done here.”
My fingers curl into fists.
I don’t know how this will end. But if he thinks I’ll break easily, he’s in for a surprise.
“That will be a hard pass for me.”
I flinch back when his knuckles graze over my swollen eye, the cold of his rings rubbing at the tender part of the wound.
“There, there now, цbеtok. There’s no need for you to be frightened of me,” he says with an ungodly smile drawn to his lips. “This will all end soon enough.”
“You talk too much. Good thing I know how to shut people up,” I sneer at him. “Untie me, and I’ll show you.”
This time, I get a slap across my cheek for my troubles instead of a punch.
“Such insolence.” He scoffs. “Such disrespect. Tell me, цbеtok, didn’t your father teach you to respect your elders.”
“The only thing my father taught me was that respect isn’t free. You either earn it or end up paying for it. Touch me again, and I’ll teach you which side of the spectrum you’re on.” He laughs, the sight of his flashing teeth making my skin crawl.
“What a feisty flower you are. It will give me immense pleasure pickling your petals one by one until your bravado is no more.”
“I’m sorry. What did you just say? I couldn’t hear you over your loud ego,” I mock, goading him further, gaining another sucker punch to the gut as payback for my sass.
“Insolent child.” He stands back up, forcing me to crane my neck back to keep my eye on him. “I have half a mind to kill you right now.”
My smile is slow and lazy as I stare at him.
“What are you waiting for then? Oh, that’s right. You can’t kill me. Not if you want to win brownie points with Misha. That’s the goal, right? Hand-deliver me to your Pakhan in the hopes that it’s enough to save your life after the shame and embarrassment you brought down on his house?”
“It was because of you!” He slaps me again, rattling my teeth with the sheer force of it, splitting my bottom lip with his rings. “Don’t think I didn’t piece it together that you and your American friend must have found my ledger somehow when you were pretending to be canoodling in my office. Yes, it took longer than I would have liked to figure out who you were, but the minute I did, I promised myself that I would taint your beautiful petals with the crimson of your blood.”
My smile never wavers as I stare him down.
“You talk a good game, but I doubt you’ll be able to keep that promise.”
“Is that so?” He cackles softly while running his finger on my bruised lip. “Do you think you can entice me to do otherwise, цbеtok? ”
“Entice you?” I pretend to hurl. “God, no. I’d rather die a virgin than let your filthy hands touch me.” When his dead eyes light up, I realize I’ve said the wrong fucking thing.
“The American didn’t claim you as he insinuated.” His ugly smile broadens. “How disastrous for you and how fortunate for me. Yes, the Pakhan wants you alive, but he never said he needs you whole.”
Up until now, I was holding my end quite well, all things considered, but as Pavlin’s hands go to unfasten his belt and zipper, crippling fear begins to set in my bones.
How is it that men like him know that breaking a woman’s will to live can be as simple as stealing her dignity away? Stealing her very virtue and honor?
“I swear to God, if you put that tiny pencil dick anywhere close to me, I’ll bite it off!” I shout, jerking maniacally in the chair, overcoming the pain of the cables cutting my bloodstream.
Pavlin grips my chin, his nails sinking into my skin, and responds, “If I so much as feel your teeth on my cock, I’ll make sure to kick them out of your mouth.”
I spit in his face, to which he repays me by slapping my cheeks twice on each side before landing another gut punch to my stomach. My mind spins with dizziness as another slap echoes in my ears, making it difficult to regain focus.
Pavlin seems intent on slapping and punching me until I black out again to make it easier for him to rape me. But I refuse to go down without a fight, clinging to my consciousness with all my might. Tears start streaming down my face when the dark abyss starts creeping back at the corner of my eyes, threatening to swallow me up again.
Pavlin is halted from striking me again by the sound of a gunshot, giving me a reason not to succumb to my injuries. Then another gunshot rings out, followed by another, and another after that, until pure chaos erupts in the distance.
The first spark of hope ignites within me with the sound of bullets ricocheting off rusted vats, footsteps pounding against concrete, and the sharp stench of gunpowder thick in the air. When I hear Rolo’s laugh, wild and unrestrained, cutting through the carnage like a blade over the deafening sound of gunfire, I start weeping in joy. A rush of relief surges through me despite the cables still binding me to the chair.
If Rolo’s here, then Remus can’t be far behind.
My cousins will find me.
My cousins will save me.
And when they do, Pavlin is as good as dead.
However, I’ll ensure to order the twins that I’ll be the one to send the prick off to meet his maker.
But just as the wonderful thought crosses my mind, both Pavlin and I hear the sound of a nearby door creaking open, our breaths catching in our throats in unison.
My body tenses as the shadowy figure slowly approaches, silent and ominous, leaving us to wonder who’s coming. Pavlin stiffens beside me, his attention snapping toward the approaching figure, watching it move purposely closer to the light.
“Stay back,” Pavlin snarls, his voice tight with fear.
But when there’s no reply, and all he hears is the distant screams of his men being slaughtered and gunned down, Pavlin lets his panic take hold.
He moves fast. One minute, he’s at my side, and the next, he’s standing behind me, pressing the cold steel of his gun against the back of my skull.
“Stay back, I said!” he barks out again, his hand unsteady due to the symphony of shrill cries sung by his crew in the distance.
Then, out of the shadows and taking one full step under the light, he appears—Jude.
My heart pitter-patters in my chest at the unforgiving sight before me.
Jude’s face is drenched in blood, streaked in crimson like some vengeful specter. His gaze is wild and completely unhinged, yet eerily calm as he strides toward us, unaffected by the gun being held to my head.
“Take one step closer, and I’ll kill her. I swear,” Pavlin spits, his grip tightening.
Jude cocks his head, his lips curling at the edges into a cruel smile as he drops the two daggers he was carrying to the floor. He then pulls out his gun, his fingers flexing around it as if he had all the time in the world.
“Did you hear me?! I’ll kill her!” Pavlin shouts out again.
“I believe you.”
And just like that, Jude pulls the trigger.
One shot.
That’s all it takes for Pavlin’s body to go rigid behind me as a stunned, choked sound leaves his lips before he crumples to the ground, the gun slipping from his fingers and clattering to the side. And then silence falls on us both. The only thing I can hear now is my own heartbeat, thundering in my ears.
My brows furrow as I watch Jude step closer, ensuring his gaze never meets mine. He reaches for the cables, his fingers brushing my skin gently as he starts untying me, his hands steady and sure.
“Let’s go,” he murmurs, his voice low, his face still unreadable beneath all that blood.
I don’t move right away.
I just sit there, staring at him, the weight of everything that happened finally settling in.
Pavlin is dead. And Jude… Jude didn’t even hesitate to blow his brains out, ending the threat to my life and my virtue with just one bullet.
“Jude,” I whisper raggedly. “Look at me.”
His head remains bowed as he sits on his haunches.
“Look at me,” I repeat softly, placing my hand on his bloody cheek.
“I can’t,” he mutters, pain and anguish in his voice.
“Please,” I say, fully knowing how that word holds power over him.
His head lifts slightly, his gaze trailing up my broken body to land on my bruised face. His hands ball into fists while his glare shifts over to Pavlin’s corpse, cursing for not being able to kill him a second time. But now is not the time to curse the dead. Now is the time for celebrating the living.
“Thank you,” I whisper.
I then lean in and gently press a chaste kiss on his lips.
Jude’s gaze softens as he takes a deep breath, probably the first one he’s taken since he heard the news of my capture. Then he pulls me to my feet ever so gently and lifts me into his arms, nestling my head onto his chest, his rapid heartbeat a reminder that we are still alive.
“Take me home.”