Chapter 22 Konstantin #2
Kirov tries to use my distraction, grabbing me by the throat and lifting me off my feet.
I kick at his knees, twisting until I break his grip, then slam my head into his broken jaw.
He drops me with a scream, and I kick his gun away, then drive my fist into his gut over and over until he folds, choking for air.
I stagger back, chest heaving, vision swimming, blood dripping from a cut above my eyebrow.
All around us, the fight rages—my men, drawn by the gunfire, are pouring from the second car, engaging the last of the attackers.
I scan for Mila. She’s still under the car, pressed flat, her hands over her ears, tears streaking her cheeks but alive. Relief surges through me.
Nadya appears at my side, breathless but unbowed, eyes darting everywhere.
She’s moving like liquid fire—scaling the side of a dumpster, kicking off it to land a hard blow on the last man trying to crawl away.
She grabs a steel rod from the ground and flips over the hood, using the momentum to take down two more, her body moving with a dancer’s precision. I’ve never seen anything like it.
For a moment, everything slows—the chaos fading around the three of us. Nadya is by Mila in an instant, pulling her out from beneath the car, whispering reassurances, stroking her hair. I kneel beside them, my hands shaking as I check them both for wounds, pressing a kiss to Mila’s forehead.
Kirov tries one last time, lurching up behind me with a blade.
I spin, tackle him to the ground, wrestling for the knife.
He’s strong, rage and pain lending him power, but I force his arm back, pinning him to the cold pavement.
He spits blood in my face, snarling. “You think you win tonight? There are more coming. You’re dead, Konstantin. All of you.”
I ram his head into the concrete, hard enough to daze him. “Not tonight,” I growl, pressing his arm until the blade drops, then tossing it aside.
Footsteps crunch behind me. Nadya appears, her hair wild, her dress torn, blood smudged across her knuckles and cheek. She’s a force of nature, eyes blazing.
Kirov tries to turn his head toward her, coughing up a laugh that sounds like broken glass. “Your wife messed me up good, Konstantin,” he rasps, lips split, blood bubbling at the corner of his mouth. “She’s quicker than you, that’s for sure.”
I bare my teeth, fury surging. “Where’s Alexei?” My gun presses into the base of his skull, my finger cold and ready.
Kirov spits, grinning with what teeth he has left. “Long gone. You’ll never catch him.”
I press harder, not believing a word. “You’re lying. Where is he? Tell me now or I end you right here.”
He just shakes with laughter, a sick, broken sound that crawls under my skin. “You always think you’re the smartest in the room, Konstantin. Alexei is already a ghost. He’s already out of your reach—”
Before I can pull the trigger, a single gunshot cracks through the night. The bullet zings off the asphalt inches from my hand, sending up sparks and the acrid smell of burnt powder. I jerk my head up, scanning the rooftops.
A shadow flickers above us, silhouetted against a blinking neon sign—just a glimpse, long coat and hat, gone before I can fix on the details.
Nadya grabs my shoulder, eyes darting upward. “Did you see—?”
“He’s here, isn’t he?” I snarl, voice echoing off the alley walls. Rage and dread mix in my gut. I know it. I feel it in my bones. Alexei is here, watching, orchestrating.
Kirov twists beneath me, choking on his own laughter. “He never left, Konstantin. He’s everywhere. He’s in your house, in your head. You’ll never find him until he wants to be found.”
I slam my fist into the concrete beside Kirov’s ear, inches from smashing his head outright. The bastard doesn’t flinch, just keeps laughing, spitting blood across the ground.
“Call off your men,” I growl, pressing the muzzle to his temple.
He grins, eyes glittering with madness. “Doesn’t matter. You kill me, five more take my place. That’s how it works now. This city isn’t yours anymore, Konstantin. You let it slip through your fingers.”
Another gunshot rings out, this one ricocheting off the car behind us. I shove Nadya down, covering her with my body. Kirov cackles, rolling onto his side as he tries to crawl away. Nadya is already moving, grabbing a chunk of broken asphalt and hurling it at him, connecting with a satisfying thud.
I can’t shake the feeling of eyes on me, every window a possible barrel, every shadow a trap.
Kirov sags, finally spent, and I let him fall. “You see what’s coming,” he rasps, voice hollow. “You can’t save her. You can’t save anyone.”
I stand, yanking Nadya to her feet, my hand never leaving my gun. “Get Mila. We’re moving.”
She sprints to the car, pulling Mila out from beneath the wreckage. My daughter clings to her mother, silent tears cutting down her cheeks, eyes huge with terror.
I stare down at Kirov, who just grins up at me, lips bloody and eyes full of hate and triumph. I want to end him. I want to pull the trigger and send a message, but the feeling of being watched is too strong, the rooftops crawling with threat.
Kirov laughs again, the sound echoing off the alley walls as if Alexei himself is laughing with him. “You’re already dead, Konstantin,” he whispers.
Gunfire cracks above us, raining sparks and shards of stone.
I fling my arm around Nadya, pulling her and Mila close behind the twisted wreck of our car.
Another shot punches into the pavement inches from my shoulder.
I look up, heart pounding, and see him—a slim, dark figure perched on the edge of the rooftop, backlit by the city’s neon.
I look down at Kirov, who coughs blood. He was just a decoy. Alexei wanted me out in the open.
I duck, scanning the rooftop again.
Nadya’s breath hitches. “It’s him,” she whispers, face ghost-pale, rage and terror warring in her eyes.
Kirov, still sprawled at our feet, grins with broken teeth, blood running from his mouth. He coughs, then calls out, voice full of spite, “You’ve pissed him off good this time, Konstantin. Taking his mother out like that. Alexei doesn’t forgive. Not for family.”
Alexei fires again, the bullet tearing through the side mirror, missing me by inches. I press my family closer, mind racing—cover, angles, options. None of them feel like enough.
Kirov spits again, face contorted. “Your son is dead, Konstantin. You’ll never see him again.”
“No!” Nadya shouts, her voice wild, raw, breaking open. “Don’t listen. He’s lying—he’s trying to break you.”
Kirov lifts his head, laughing even as he bleeds. “You can chase after him, Konstantin. Or you can choose your family. Choose wisely. Chase your revenge and lose them both.”
I put a bullet to Kirov’s forehead. I see the life leaving his eyes before I hear the screech of tires. Kirov’s backup, no doubt.
“Go!” Nadya cries, grabbing my sleeve, voice shattering. “Go! If you don’t, we’ll lose Nikolai forever!”
Alexei’s gun spits fire again, the bullet ricocheting close enough that Mila screams, hiding her face in Nadya’s side. The decision tears me in half—son or family, revenge or love. I freeze, every instinct and memory battling inside my skull.
Nadya’s voice cracks, breaking through the roar in my head. “Go! Get him! Please, Konstantin!”
But I can’t. I can’t leave them here, not with Alexei still hunting, not with Mila’s small, shaking body pressed into my chest. I pull them tighter, my arms a cage.
I want to promise I’ll chase him, I want to tell Nadya I’ll bring our son back, I want to be the man who can do both, but the words choke off in my throat.
Nadya twists against me, fighting to get free, screaming, her grief splitting the night wide open. She collapses to the ground, pounding her fists against my chest. “Why won’t you go? Why?”
Mila clings to her mother, sobbing, terror and confusion mingling in her cries.
I drop to my knees, gathering them both, holding them as tightly as I can, every muscle screaming at me to run, to do something, anything, but I stay—anchored by fear, by love, by the impossible weight of all I could lose.