Chapter 15 Volk
Volk
SONG: SUFFOCATE BY KNOCKED LOOSE (FT. POPPY)
Anatoly's waiting in the parking garage when I arrive at the warehouse.
This is not unusual; we've been meeting here for years.
Doing the kind of business that requires concrete walls and no witnesses.
But something's different tonight. Something about the air around him, puts me on alert. He’s looking far too confident. Like a man holding all the cards.
"Volk." He straightens when he sees me. Grins like we're old friends instead of colleagues who'd kill each other if given proper motivation. "Nice to see you as always."
"What do you want?" I growl, not having patience for his bullshit games tonight. Not when Sofiya's at home thinking we have time to plan. Fuck, home? When did that place become home?
Because she’s there.
I can feel it. The end is approaching like a speeding train you hear before you see.
"I figured out who that bitch is." He pulls out his phone, holding it up to show me a photo. When I give him a questioning look, he continues. "The girl. Aleksandr's courier. I know who she is."
My blood goes cold, but my face stays neutral, years of practice keeping my reaction locked behind the walls I've built.
"Yeah?" I glance at the photo. It's Sofiya. Of course it's Sofiya. Well, Yelena really. An old picture of her with her father at a Bratva event. She’s looking directly at the camera, smiling like the innocent she once was. "Who is that?" I ask, playing ignorant and hoping he buys it.
"Yelena." He says her name while his eyes narrow on me slightly. It’s clear he thinks he's solved some great mystery. "The Pakhan's daughter. The one we had so much fun with in the desert ten years ago." He smirks and nudges my shoulder like we’re old buddies, reliving the glory days.
I should kill him right here. One less problem to worry about. But that would rob Sofiya of one of the most important kills in her plan. It would also make the Pakhan too suspicious.
"That's impossible. She’s dead."
“Is she?" Anatoly's grin grows wider, uglier. "Because I'm looking at a girl with the same eyes. The same face underneath all that makeup. Same attitude that got her in trouble the first time."
"You're seeing ghosts."
"Maybe. Or maybe I'm seeing revenge walking around in a pretty package." He pockets his phone. "Either way, I'm not taking chances. Already told the Pakhan my suspicions."
Of course he did. Anatoly's always been eager. Too eager. The kind of eager that either gets men killed or promoted.
"What did he say?"
"Said he told you to bring her in so he can see for himself and if it is her, then take care of it." Anatoly lights a cigarette and exhales smoke that curls like accusations. "But I'm not gonna do that."
“You’re not?” I ask flatly, ignoring a direct order for the Pakhan is a death sentence and we both know it.
“Nah, I’m gonna handle this myself. I got plans for her,” he says through a wicked smile. “And I'm not gonna go after her either. Too smart for that. I’m gonna make sure she comes to me.”
His words land like bullets, each one finding soft tissue.
"What did you do?"
"Insurance." He flicks ash onto concrete that's probably seen more blood than rain.
"Grabbed her little friend. The one Aleksandr says she's always talking to at Lush.
Angel. Pretty thing. Shame what's going to happen to her if Sofiya doesn't show.
" He says her name like its a slur, his evil grin remaining in place.
My mind goes into work mode, assessing my options. The predator in me recognizes a threat that needs eliminating but can't be. Not yet. Not when it would compromise everything.
"You grabbed one of Aleksandr's girls without permission?"
"I cleared it with Aleksandr. He's curious too.
" Anatoly's enjoying this. He gets off on the power, on being the one who solved the puzzle everyone else missed.” He gave me twelve hours before he has to report her missing to the Pakhan.
If Yelena doesn't show, Angel dies. Probably have some fun with her before then.”
My hands curl into fists. The only crack in the facade I'm maintaining. "Where?"
"The old processing plant on the East Side. You know the one." He drops his cigarette, grinding it under his heel. "Want to come watch? It should be entertaining when she realizes she can't save everyone."
"I'll think about it."
"Suit yourself." He gets in his car and rolls down the window.
"But if you're smart, you'll show your support.
You were the one that was told to kill Yelena after all.
Anyone who helped that girl is dead. No exceptions.
Not even for his favorite attack dog." He drives off, leaving me standing in an empty parking garage with the weight of impossible choices crashing down like an avalanche.
Anatoly is using Angel as bait to draw Sofiya out. Sofiya will go. She's not the kind of person who lets innocents suffer or die. It’s an obvious trap but knowing that doesn't change anything.
I quickly pull out my phone to call her.
But then I stop. Anatoly's telling the truth about me being the one who was supposed to kill her.
The Pakhan is paranoid on a good day, even before he has real reason to be suspicious.
My phone's probably being monitored, my movements tracked.
Every decision I make right now will be scrutinized to see where my loyalty really lies.
And right now, my loyalty is so far from the Pakhan it might as well be in another country.
The only way I can help Sofiya is if I'm still trusted.
Still positioned close enough to the center as the Pakhan's loyal second instead of the traitor I've become.
Which means I can't go to her or warn her directly.
I can't be anywhere near her when this goes down.
The realization makes me want to put my hand through the concrete pillar next to me. Through Anatoly's face. Through the Pakhan's skull until there's nothing left but blood and bone.
But I can't. Not yet. Not when acting too soon means we both die and the Pakhan wins.
I get in my car, my mind racing through scenarios and possibilities and the rapidly shrinking options available.
Sofiya's going to go after Angel. That's certain.
She's brave and stupid and incapable of letting someone suffer on her behalf.
It's one of the things that makes her who she is and equally what’s going to get her killed.
Anatoly knows this. That's why he's set this trap.
He's counting on Sofiya's humanity, her weakness for caring about people when caring makes you vulnerable.
I need to get there first and position myself as the loyal enforcer following orders, where I can secretly undermine. I need to keep walking this line between betrayal and duty so carefully that no one sees which side I'm actually on. My phone rings. Perfect fucking timing.
"Da?"
"Anatoly tells me he's found our ghost." The Pakhan's voice is cold as ice. "Says he was going to fill you in.”
"He has."
"What do you think?"
A loaded question, a trap wrapped in curiosity. He's testing me. Seeing if I'll defend the girl or condemn her. Seeing where my loyalty lands when forced to choose.
"I think Anatoly sees what he wants to see. The courier looks vaguely like a fifteen-year-old girl might’ve looked ten years ago. But that doesn't make her Yelena."
"But it could."
"It could. Or it could be a coincidence. A pretty face, but there are probably thousands of girls in the city right now matching that description."
Silence on the other end. He's processing, deciding whether to believe me or add me to the list of problems that need solving.
"Anatoly says he's grabbed the girl's friend and is using her as bait."
"I heard."
"I want you there when she shows. I want your eyes on this. Your assessment of whether she's really my daughter or just some unlucky bitch who looks too much like the wrong person."
"And if she is Yelena?"
"Then we finish what should've been finished ten years ago." His voice hardens. “And we do it properly this time. No half measures. No mercy. Just clean elimination of a threat to everything I've built. I want proof this time. I want her head."
He wants me there to kill her. Wants his most trusted weapon to execute the girl I've been protecting. The girl I’ve fallen for in ways that compromise everything I've ever been.
"Understood."
"Good. Don't disappoint me, Volk. You’ve been invaluable as my second, but no one's irreplaceable." He hangs up, leaving me sitting in my car with orders to murder the only thing I've cared about in my empty life.
I start the engine and drive to the processing plant where Anatoly's set his trap. I need to see the layout and understand the angles. I have to figure out how to save Sofiya before she arrives.
I need to do the impossible. Again.
The plant looms against the night sky like a skeleton, all exposed beams and broken windows. The kind of place where screams echo and blood soaks into concrete that's already seen too much violence. I park three blocks away and approach on foot, quietly. Back to being the predator I've always been.
Two guards are at the main entrance. Anatoly's men, not the Pakhan's. That shows me how personal this really is to him. It also means he's overreaching, getting ambitious in ways that could be exploited. Overly ambitious men make mistakes.
I circle the building to the back entrance, the one delivery trucks used before the place shut down.
It's chained but the chain's old and rusty.
It would take thirty seconds to remove with bolt cutters, but I make do by hitting the chain with a piece of rebar I find lying on the ground.
Five strong hits and the rusted chain falls apart.
Inside I hear voices, Anatoly’s angry tones, and a woman crying. Angel probably. I wonder if she’s realized she's bait in a game she doesn't understand. Scared in ways that make her useless for anything except the role Anatoly's cast her in.
I don't go all the way in. I can't risk being seen yet. But I've seen enough. I know the layout well from my years in the Bratva. I know where they're holding Angel. Know the exits and the angles and the places where violence can happen without witnesses.
I head back to my car and drive slowly, watching normal people living normal lives. Going to work. Coming home. Existing in ways that don't require constant calculation of death and betrayal. My phone buzzes. A text from an unknown number. Sofiya must've gotten a burner. Smart girl.
Sofiya: Angel's missing. No one's seen her since her shift ended.
I stare at the screen. I should respond, tell her it's a trap, and warn her to stay away. But if I warn her, I risk tipping the Pakhan off. I don't respond. I watch the message sit there. Unanswered. A betrayal in the form of silence.
Another text
Sofiya: I know you're there. I know you're reading this. Tell me what's happening.
My fingers hover over the keyboard. I want to tell her everything. I want to explain that I'm protecting her by staying away , that distance is the only strategy left that keeps us both alive long enough to end this.
I delete the message and turn off my phone.
Sofiya's going to walk into Anatoly's trap. She's going to try to save Angel. And the Pakhan expects me to kill her when she does.
Tomorrow I will betray everything I've ever been to become something new.
I think about kissing her, claiming her. About the terrifying vulnerability of wanting something you can't control. And I confirm my choice.
Not the smart choice. Not the safe choice. Not the choice that keeps me alive and powerful and positioned in the Pakhan's good graces. But she's worth it. Worth the betrayal. Worth the death that's coming. Worth everything I've built and everything I'll lose.
I turn the car toward the weapons cache I keep in a safehouse. Toward preparation for tomorrow's violence.
Tomorrow, I’ll save Sofiya. Tomorrow, I’ll help her kill Anatoly. Tomorrow, I’ll become free.
Tomorrow, I’ll tear it all down.
Tomorrow, we’ll find out if love and obsession are enough to overcome fifteen years of loyalty and violence.
Tomorrow, we'll find out if the girl from the desert and the man who saved her can destroy the monster who created them both.
I just hope she knows that when the time comes.
Hope she understands that everything I do tomorrow is for her, even when it doesn't look like it.
Even when I'm pointing a gun at her head and the Pakhan's ordering me to pull the trigger.
Because tomorrow I'm giving her the same choice.
Survive or die. Fight or surrender. Trust or run.
And I'm praying she chooses trust.
She has to trust me, believe I'm still hers. She has to know that distance is the only way I can protect her when the Pakhan's watching every move I make.
Tomorrow, we’ll find out if that's enough. We’ll find out if two weapons can become something else. Something human. Something that survives.
I'm ready. I’ve been ready since that moment fifteen years ago when I left a girl in the desert and drove away knowing I'd just made the most important choice of my life.
Tomorrow, the end is here whether we're ready or not.
And God help anyone who tries to stop her. Because I won't. I'll burn them all first.