Chapter 25 - Yakov #2
“Twenty minutes,” Matvei states, his tone dropping into a dark promise. “If we don’t hear from you in twenty minutes, we level the entire zip code.”
“Keep your phone close,” I reply, pulling my hood up over my head. “I’ll drop you a pin when it’s finished.”
I grab the keys to one of the unbranded, blacked-out backup SUVs Matvei’s cleanup crew arrived in. I throw myself behind the wheel and tear out of the parking lot, weaving through the industrial side streets that are only a stone’s throw from the clinic.
Seven minutes later, I pull the vehicle into a shitty alleyway a full road away from the house where they’re holding Raya.
I kill the ignition, letting the engine die so no one hears me coming.
With a little over ten minutes left on Matvei’s clock, I step out from the shadows and begin walking down that forgotten industrial street.
The air is freezing, carrying the scent of damp garbage and rust. I walk with my heavy hood pulled low over my eyes, my hands shoved casually into the pockets of my leather jacket, my boots clicking rhythmically against the broken sidewalk.
The street knows what’s coming; the block instinctively shifts, recognizing the scent of an apex predator walking.
A mangy stray dog begins to bark frantically from behind a rusted chain-link fence, but the second my shadow passes the iron line, it lets out a pathetic whine and scurries backward into the dark.
Up ahead, a couple of street-level lookouts standing on a stoop take one look at my gait, turn on their heels, and slip inside, slamming the heavy deadbolts behind them.
Nobody wants to be a witness to the shit they can sense is about to go down.
I clock the house without breaking stride. Two goons are stationed outside the heavy wooden doors, and who should it be? None other than Tweedle-dum and his sidekick Tweedle-fucking-dumber. The two shitbags who used to rotate shifts outside my bedroom. These motherfuckers are getting it.
They are leaning against the brickwork, smoking cigarettes, totally relaxed.
It’s only when I’m about ten feet away that they notice me, too busy cracking jokes with one another.
Dumb fuck number one opens his mouth to bark a challenge, his hand moving toward his jacket.
I shift my hood, allowing the fading winter light to catch my face.
The recognition hits them like a physical blow.
Their eyes widen in sudden, paralyzing horror, skin instantly leaching of all color as they realize exactly who has materialized in front of them.
Their worst fucking nightmare, that’s what.
I don’t pause. I don’t negotiate. My hands leave my pockets in a single, lightning-fast blur.
Phwt. Phwt.
Muffled coughs echo in the narrow alleyway where two other men have been having a smoke.
The first takes a round directly between his wide eyes, his cigarette dropping from his lips as his body slams back against the brick wall and slides down into a heap.
The second man gets his gun halfway cleared before the second bullet tears through his throat, cutting off his scream into a wet bubble of air. He drops over his partner’s legs.
I step over their twitching bodies without looking down. I pull my phone, send a single text to Matvei—Come now. It will be finished.—and drop the GPS pin.
I raise my heavy boot and kick the reinforced door off its hinges, causing the wood to splinter inward with a deafening crash.
I can’t say I’m surprised to find Bogdan inside, sprawled out on a stained leather sofa, with a half-empty bottle of vodka in his hand.
He looks comfortable, arrogant—like the sloppy, resentful piece of shit he is.
He’ll be lapping this shit up, thinking he has finally won a prize that will earn father’s elusive approval.
The crash of the door sends him scrambling to his feet immediately, his reflexes fueled by panic, gun yanked and aimed directly at the corner of the room before I have even fully cleared the doorway.
Raya is there, tied to a heavy iron chair, her wrists bound tight with thick plastic zip-ties, clothes disheveled, her entire body shivering from the damp cold of the room.
She looks up, her dark eyes wide and wild as they lock onto mine.
For one fraction of a second, our gazes connect, and I ensure she sees the absolute promise of safety in my eyes before I turn my focus to my brother.
Bogdan’s hand is shaking, the barrel of his gun wavering between Raya and my chest. He tries to cover his terror with a sneer, his voice loud and desperate in the echoing space.
“What are you gonna do, Yakov? Huh?” he barks, a hysterical edge to his laugh.
“Kill your own family? Going to the Volkov scum, after everything we gave you? You traitorous little shit. You think you’re better than us now?
Yaroslav should have shot you when he had the chance, the weak fuck.
You think this whore is worth this? I should have been the one to take her.
I’d have put her in her place, I’d have—”
I shoot him in the shoulder.
I don’t blink. I don’t say a single word while he is doing all the talking, because there is absolutely nothing coming out of his mouth that deserves a response from me.
The heavy-caliber bullet shatters his shoulder, the impact violently spinning his body around before he slams hard into the floorboards.
Bogdan goes down screaming, a high-pitched shriek of pure agony as he clutches his mangled shoulder.
His gun skitters across the dirty floor, stopping against the baseboard.
I walk over to his screaming form and crouch directly over his face, waiting patiently for him to shut the fuck up, my shadow blocking out the ceiling light above him. When his shrieks finally dissolve into a ragged, wet whimpering, I lean down closer.
“Tell the old man I’m coming for him,” I say, my voice a terrifyingly gentle whisper.
I stand up, turning my back on him as if he no longer exists.
I walk over to the corner and drop to my knees in front of Raya.
My hands, which were ice-cold and lethal three seconds ago, are steady as I pull my blade and slice through the plastic zip-ties on her wrists in one smooth motion.
The plastic snaps. She immediately throws her freed arms around my neck, burying her face into my shoulder and pulling me tight against her.
Her entire body is trembling violently, her skin freezing to the touch.
“I’ve got you,” I whisper against her hair, my hands wrapping around her back, crushing her against me as a massive, ragged wave of relief finally breaks through my chest. “I’ve got you, moya rados’t. You’re safe. My sweet girl. I’m right here.”
I kiss the crown of her head, the side of her neck, breathing in the faint, lingering scent of her coconut-vanilla perfume beneath the sharp stench of the chemicals.
I cup her face in my palms, forcing her to look at me, my thumbs gently wiping away the smudge of dirt on her pale cheek.
“Are you hurt, malysh? Look at me. Did they touch you? Did he hurt you?”
She blinks through her tears, her focus swimming until she locks onto my eyes. “Sofie?” she whispers, her voice small, cracking with emotion. “Yakov... Sofie was on the ground... There was so much blood—Lev, poor Lev, his wife—”
“Sofie’s fine,” I interrupt her softly, my tone absolute as I press another lingering kiss to her forehead to soothe the panic. “She’s safe, Raya. Matvei has her. She’s alive. I promise you.”
I slide my arms beneath her thighs and her back, lifting her into my arms effortlessly, tucking her head securely against my chest.
As I step out of the splintered doorway into the crisp winter air, two armored Volkov SUVs shriek to a halt at the curb, their doors flying open. Matvei, Simon, and a dozen heavily armed soldiers pour out onto the sidewalk, their weapons drawn, ready for a war.
They stop when they see me walking out with Raya in my arms.
I stop at the edge of the stoop, looking down at Simon and Matvei. “There are those two there, and two in the side alley,” I give them the lowdown. “My brother Bogdan is inside, alive; he has one through the shoulder.”
Simon looks past me into the dark hallway, his jaw tight. “What do you want us to do with him?”
I look down at Simon; I know he’ll be itching to finish him off for what he’s done, but he’s also mine and Selene’s brother. “He has a message for my father. Dump him outside the main gate of the Mykros estate. They can deal with him.”
Simon gives a solitary, respectful nod.
As I carry Raya down the steps toward the waiting SUV, each of the Volkov brothers steps forward in a silent, powerful line.
One by one they place a heavy, reassuring hand on Raya’s shoulder or head, a silent, binding gesture letting her know her family is here, will always be here, and will move heaven and earth for her.
“The family doctor will be there when you arrive,” Matvei says. “He’s with Sofie. Selene and the rest of the family will be there too.”
I nod and turn to slide Raya into the backseat of the armored car, stepping in right beside her, pulling her flush against my chest, wrapping my jacket around her shivering frame to seal out the cold.
“Take us home,” I command the driver.