26 #2
The sound of low voices reached Roman’s ears.
Glancing up, he realized the sounds were coming from above them.
He raised his hand, silently ordering everyone to stop as he listened.
He couldn’t make out any words, so he advanced again until he was standing at the bottom of the stairs.
Broken sentences bounced off the concrete walls.
“... took you long enough... get rid of the bitch.”
“Had some issues with... couldn't get away.”
“... think he knows?”
“Nah... too wrapped up with...”
“How the fuck did he…”
“… willing to close his eyes…”
One steady foot in front of the other, Roman climbed the stairs with Stepan at his back.
Instinct had him glancing over his shoulder to make sure his brother was covered.
They hadn’t had time to prepare with bulletproof vests, but seeing that his men had pushed Alek to the back of their murderous procession made him feel slightly better.
“On your right,” Stepan whispered once they were on the first floor landing, pointing to a dark corner that would keep them hidden long enough to get the upper hand.
It was some sort of alcove, marred by ugly graffiti.
An identical one sat on the opposite wall.
Between the alcoves, a room with large windows and a tall ceiling stretched to unknown lengths.
Roman nodded, moving that way. Shrouded in darkness, he was finally able to see into the room, and his heart nearly stilled inside his chest. Ivan was standing near the windows, his back to them and his arms crossed over his chest. Boris and his loyal dog Sasha were off to the side, talking.
And right between them, Alessandra was tied to a chair, her mouth covered with a dirty cloth.
There was no sign of Armenians or other Bratva men.
Roman watched his wife for a moment, unable to tear his gaze away, and his blood boiled at the sight. Even from a distance, he could see that she’d been crying, her eyes bloodshot and mascara streaks coloring her cheeks. Even with her beautiful tan, she looked pale . Afraid. Fucking terrified.
He was going to murder every single one of those sons of bitches and take pleasure from it.
Turning to the men, he gestured that Stepan and Alek should stay with him on the right side. Andrei and Dimitri were to move to the left when he gave the signal, to cover both sides and create an ambush.
“Watch out for Alessandra,” he mouthed.
Roman raised his fingers, counting down from three. When the last finger went down, he and Stepan walked out of the shadows, guns raised and ready to shoot. Andrei and Dimitri rushed to the other side.
Someone yelled something, but it was lost in the chaos that followed.
Roman aimed and fired the first bullet, hitting a bewildered Ivan right in the chest. He looked down in shock, seeing the blood starting to seep through his white shirt before he dropped to his knees.
Then everyone was shooting from all sides.
“Shit!” Sasha cried out, ducking down behind a pile of junk at the same time Boris hid behind a concrete pillar.
Alessandra struggled in the chair, full-blown panic written on her face as she tried to get away from harm’s way.
Roman fired his gun again. The second bullet grazed Ivan’s ear and the third one pierced his abdomen. A second later, he was lying face-down on the floor, unmoving.
Endless strings of bullets flew across the room, making Roman fear that some of them could hit Alessandra. They didn't have a plan and it showed. They had come in a hurry and were forced to improvise for lack of time. If anything happened to her, he would never forgive himself.
“Watch out for my wife!” he yelled, taking a step back to avoid the spray of angry bullets flying their way.
“Roman!” Boris called from behind the pillar protecting him. “Stop this shit and I'll let her live.”
A fresh wave of violence gripped Roman by the throat like an invisible fist. He wasn't going to stop until all of three of them took their last breaths.
“The barrel,” Stepan said from beside him. “Cover me.”
Roman understood his intention immediately.
Reloading his gun, he fired to Boris's left, distracting him from what was happening on his right side. Stepan quickly moved into position, running away from the alcove and hiding behind the old water barrel sitting at the room’s entrance.
From that spot, he had a perfect shot at Boris. His raised his hand, aimed and fired.
Boris dropped to his knees with a grunt, sounding like a wounded animal.
“Fuck! Boris!” Sasha shouted from behind the pile of junk he was using as a shield.
“Stop shooting and get out of there, motherfucker!” Alek yelled back. “You're as good as dead.”
“Fuck you!” Sasha sneered, shooting at the barrel. Stepan dropped to his ass in an attempt to cover his head. “If I die, I’ll take the bitch with me.”
Roman had to act fast. He knew the man was desperate and wouldn’t hesitate to do as he threatened. “Move,” he ordered to Dimitri standing on the other side of the corridor. “Flank my left.”
Stepping away from their hiding spots at the same time, they both started shooting at Sasha, not giving him time to retaliate or try to aim his gun in Alessandra’s direction.
At the same time, Stepan moved from behind the barrel, rushing behind a pillar instead.
A few more steps and he would be beside Boris who was still on the floor, looking like he was barely breathing.
Seeing they were closing in on him, Sasha reacted like any cornered animal would. He struck back. With a battle cry that sounded unhinged, he lifted his arm swung it around, emptying the magazine of his semi-automatic pistol in whatever target he could hit.
“No!” Roman shouted, ice settling in his veins when he realized the imminent danger Alessandra was in.
She was just a few feet ahead of Sasha, in a diagonal line, still bound to that goddamn chair and unable to move to save her life.
She tried to throw herself to the ground, but the metal chair was too heavy, keeping her upright.
“Fuck!” Dimitri swore, moving a few inches to the left when a bullet whizzed past his head.
“Don’t let up!” Roman ordered, taking another step forward, determined to end this fast. “Alessa, move your head! Down! Down!”
She tried to, bending forward as far as she could, her face strained with the effort.
Finally, Sasha’s gun went quiet.
Roman stopped shooting, and the others did the same. Silence settled over the room.
He looked at Alessandra, her body bent at a weird angle and her eyes screwed shut tightly.
He had a clear path to go to her, but before he could, movement caught the corner of his eye as Sasha made a run for the back entrance, so tantalizing close to where he was.
Out of options and munition, he gunned for it as fast as he could, but it was to no avail.
Roman aimed straight for his head. One single shot and he was out, dropping on the dirty floor like a deadweight.
Roman rushed to Alessandra, letting the gun drop from his hand as he grabbed her face.
“It’s me,” he rasped, lifting her head. “Open your eyes, baby.”
When she did, he let out a sigh of relief. She was still crying, her beautiful eyes red and swollen. He told himself her crying was a good thing because it meant she was alive.
“Are you hit?” he asked.
She blinked at him heavily as if she couldn’t understand his question. More tears fell.
“I don’t think she is,” Andrei said, already working to untie her wrists from behind the chair.
Roman removed the rag from her mouth. “Please talk to me.”
She let out a sob instead, the sound of which made Roman curse profusely.
“I’m here,” he said, lifting her body into his arms easily. “I’ve got you.”
“Uh, boss…”
“What?” Roman snapped, not even looking in Dimitri’s direction, too focused on his wife.
“Boris is alive. Barely, but he’s still fucking breathing.”
Roman had a decision to make. Either allow Boris to live and let Vitaly dish out whatever punishment he saw fit, or deal with him himself. That was, if he even survived the drive back into Russian territory.
But when Alessandra wrapped her arms around his neck tightly, her body trembling against his, he already knew what he wanted to do, consequences be damned.
“Blow his fucking brains out.”
As he walked out of the room carrying his crying wife, he noticed the trash bag lying on the floor and gritted his teeth. He kicked it to the side and continued to move, not on ounce of regret weighing on his mind.
???
Alessandra was silent on the drive home.
In the backseat of Andrei’s car, she lay with her head in Roman’s lap, bloodshot eyes staring at the passenger seat unseeing.
She had stopped crying a few minutes ago, her body turning lethargic as if the tears had taken everything from her.
She sunk into the soft leather, barely moving except for her chest gently rising and falling with her shallow breaths.
Roman brushed his fingers over her bruised cheek, biting his tongue before he could start drilling her with questions, knowing now was not the time.
He was still wound up, his lungs feeling as if they were on fire with each breath he took.
One hand clenched into a fist at his side.
He turned his head to look out the window, hating the sight of the marks they had left on her body.
As they reached home, Andrei parked the car then got out to open the back door.
Roman gathered Alessandra into his arms before exiting the vehicle.
As he walked up to the front door, Alek’s car pulled in the driveway, and he followed inside with Andrei.
Stepan and Dimitri had stayed behind with Roman’s car to deal with the mess.
Roman carried Alessandra to their bedroom, eased her down on the bed and softly kissed her forehead. She turned her back to him and curled into herself as she stared blankly at nothing at all.
Seeing her like that, so fragile and almost broken, made him want to go back and resurrect the traitorous bastards just so he could kill them all over again.
“I’ll be right back,” he said quietly, heading for the door and walking into the hallway. Pulling out his phone, he dialed the doctor on Bratva’s payroll.
He heard Alek and Andrei talking downstairs, but he didn’t try to listen to their conversation, too distracted by his own thoughts. Once he was done with the doctor, he placed a final call to his father.
The line connected seconds later. “Yes.”
“Three of your men are dead,” Roman said without preamble, his voice cold and calculated.
“Who?” Vitaly demanded, and Roman thought that he sounded a little off, as if he wasn’t all that surprised.
“Ivan, Boris and Sasha.”
“How?”
“They took Alessandra with the intent to kill her. I assume you didn’t know about this?”
His father paused, and when he spoke again, he sounded angry. “Are you accusing me of something, Roman?”
“I’m not accusing you of anything. I called to let you know you’re three men short.”
“Understandable. You did well.”
As always, they were both careful with what words they spoke over the phone.
“They took her into Armenian territory. We need to talk.”
“Yes,” Vitaly said, and Roman heard a feminine voice in the background that didn’t sound like Yana. “That we do. I’ll meet you at the house in an hour.”
“No.”
“No?”
“I want a meeting. Tonight.”
Vitaly didn’t seem to like the way his son demanded a meeting with his Vory brothers. But given the gravity of the betrayal, he had no choice in the matter. “Give me two hours.”