26. Isabel
Isabel
“Fucker,” Aiden groans as the suture bites deeper than I meant it to.
“Sorry.” The word is automatic as I loosen the pull and tie it off. My focus shifts the second it’s done, my glare locking on Mr. Doyle. “I thought you wanted me to know the truth.”
The man has the audacity to grin. It’s so bloody evil it makes me want to slap him, but of course I don’t.
“I do. The truth isn’t always pleasant. It can be damn near painful at times.”
Looking down at Aiden’s gash, I take a controlled breath and get back to work. Three more sutures before I can call it good.
“And you expect me to believe you, a man who lies for a living?”
Aiden lifts an eyebrow but says nothing. I know he’s amused at my willingness to not let his boss get away with acting like I’m some na?ve princess. I’m not.
My life may have been sheltered, but that doesn’t mean I haven’t seen things. I have. I’ve learned all about the monsters living amongst us.
Violet is proof of that. My sister-in-law survived something I wouldn’t wish on anyone, at the hands of a man not all that different from the one standing behind me.
My family tried to keep the gory details from me, but that was impossible to do.
Information posted online becomes a permanent fixture, difficult to erase.
Even now, years later, Darius has a team dedicated to removing any videos that resurface.
“I don’t expect you to take me at my word.”
There’s a lack of arrogance in his tone that throws me off.
“You think I’d tell you this if I didn’t have proof? Look at the invoices. Do a little research of your own. If I were you, I’d start with the Botticelli. Why do you think your grandmother loves that one so damn much?”
“Didn’t your ex sell it to her?” Aiden asks. “Silas mentioned that.”
“My ex appreciated the history behind that painting. She sold it to Alma to get back at me.”
A beat passes before I find myself asking, “What’s that mean?”
“The original owner was the brother of someone I’m sure you know. I believe he’s your uncle.” There’s a dramatic pause. “Viktor Del Markov, he married Ramon’s youngest sister, correct?”
The name burns going down, bile rising in my throat before I force it back. “He did. We don’t know where he went after my brother banished him from Hermosa Islas.” My voice hardens, my lips tight. “For all we know, he’s dead. The world would be a better place if he were.”
“He’s not.” A single tap of Mr. Doyle’s finger against the smooth tabletop lands with quiet precision. “But if he ever shows his face in London, I’ll make sure he is. The entire Del Markov bratva should be erased. But that is a story for another day. Let me get back to my point.”
“Can’t wait to hear it,” I say with so much sarcasm it doesn’t go unnoticed.
“Makim, the youngest Del Markov brother, loved that painting. Which is why I had to have it. Your grandmother was the best in the business. No one could get their hands on pieces the way she could. I paid a fortune for her services, well worth it. To this day, I still don’t know how she pulled it off.
” A faint smile touches his lips. “I don’t really care.
It was worth it the moment Makim stepped into my office and saw it hanging there. ”
The smile lingers, but it’s darker now. “I’ll spare you the gory details of what happened next. You don’t need those.”
“You killed him.” I don’t mean to say it out loud, but it happens anyway.
He gives a curt nod, the ghost of a smile playing on his lips.
“Whenever I found myself in need of Alma’s services, she’d try to negotiate her fee to include the Botticelli.
I distinctly recall telling her that no amount of money could tempt me to part with it.
It was priceless. But that didn’t stop her.
It only pushed her to find another way.”
He lets out a quiet laugh, and I don’t understand how any of this is funny.
“The sheer ingenuity of her plan—getting my ex-wife to sell the painting as payback for all the shit I’d put her through—was what stopped me from going after her. I respected it. My only request was that she let me buy it back someday. She agreed.”
Aiden clears his throat, the sound echoing in the empty room, his voice tinged with empathy. “But then her mind began failing her, leaving that up to Rico.”
Trent nods. “Sadly, yes. And I didn’t have the heart to steal it out from under her. I convinced myself I could talk Rico into selling it to me, even if it meant paying more than what it was worth. Thought it was a done deal… until I was outbid by a man I never saw coming.”
“Mr. Cygan.”
“Yes.”
With the final stitch done, I reach for the gauze. My focus is on covering Aiden’s arm, even though my mind races.
“Who is Mr. Cygan?” That name sounds familiar, like I’ve seen it or heard it before.
“I am.”
The deep, familiar voice has me nearly jumping out of my skin. It’s far too close.
A chill rips through me before I even turn.
“Rurik.” The sound of his name catches in my throat as fear seizes me.
The man who locked me in a room with two dead bodies stands in the doorway like he’s already won. His arrogance rolls off him, thick and suffocating, as his attention drifts to the men next to me.
When Aiden draws his gun and aims it at him, Rurik doesn’t even blink. If anything, he looks bored.
And that tells me just how unhinged this man really is.
“If you kill me, her friends die.” His hands lift in a lazy gesture, as if weighing our options. “Are you willing to take that risk? Or would you like to hear me out?”
His gaze settles on me, letting me see he’s not bluffing. “Decide quickly. Every second counts.”
Aiden’s phone vibrates. The jarring interruption sends a spike of panic through me. As soon as he has it out and unlocked, a video of my friend Trinity fills the screen and everything else falls away as I take her in.
Tears stream down her face, soaking into the filthy cloth used as a gag. A masked man stands next to her. He slowly drags the tip of his knife along her throat, with no sense of urgency.
I can’t breathe. The air sticks in my chest as I stare, frozen, unable to look away even when I know I should.
Before I can make sense of it, another video replaces hers.
It’s Lawrence. My friend, and Trinity’s new beau.
His hands are bound above his head, his body hanging from what looks like a hook.
He’s naked. Crimson trails ooze from the deep, crisscrossing cuts marring his torso.
They look carved rather than inflicted. There’s nothing rushed about them, nothing careless, and the way his body sags warns me he’s been there for far too long and is barely hanging on.
“How could you?” The words tear out of me, sharp and breaking. “They’re innocent.”
“Lawrence isn’t innocent, is he, Mr. Doyle?” Rurik finally looks past me, his attention settling on the man at the end of the table. “Lawrence has a gambling problem. Used the wrong bookie. Needed a way out and agreed to forge a few tests, not understanding fully what that meant.”
He tsks under his breath, shaking his head like this is a minor inconvenience instead of a life hanging in the balance.
“One has nothing to do with the other.” Mr. Doyle’s voice goes hard, his glare cutting into Rurik. “What is it you want?”
“The same thing I’ve always wanted.” His lips curl into a sickening grin, a darkness hidden behind it. “You have no idea who I am, do you?”
“Should I?” Trent narrows his eyes and leans back, unimpressed. “All I see is a piece of shite that needs to be taken down a few notches. A dead man walking.” His gaze hardens. “You’re messing with the wrong man, and you’ll soon learn that the hard way.”
The words hang in the air, thick enough to choke on, and for the first time since he walked in, Rurik reacts. It’s subtle, but I catch it.
The slight stillness. The way the air around him seems to tighten.
But he recovers, then decides to goad Mr. Doyle. Enjoying himself while he does.
“Give it time. I’m sure it’ll come to you.” His eyes don’t leave Mr. Doyle, and he remains steady and patient. “You probably don’t remember me. Why would you? When you sent my mother back to Russia, I was still growing inside her.”
Mr. Doyle growls, the sound low and vicious as his face flushes a deep, angry red. “I should have killed you before sending that Russian cunt back to the motherland. Figured your uncle would finish it once he realized whose child his sister was carrying.”
Something cold slices through me. The weight of those words settling in a way I don’t like.
Rurik is a Doyle and a Del Markov. The thought makes me sick. Another person caught up in lies. Seems he’s taken the vindictive path, which is reckless and dangerous when you’re dealing with these men.
“The best revenge is raising the bastard to seek it.” Rurik’s eyes land on me again, brief but deliberate, and that’s when I know I’m right.
He turns to face Mr. Doyle, his focus solely on him now.
“It started with your precious Sofia. I saw what you did to her, saw my chance to do to her what you did to my mother. Wonder what Sofia would think after learning she’d slept with the bastard eldest son of the man she thought she loved.
” His lip curls. “The cunt got around, didn’t she?
Silas. You. Me. No wonder the DNA test was so easily manipulated. ”
“You sick son of a bitch.” Trent’s fist slams into the table hard enough to make it rattle. “Mark my words. You will die. And it will be painful.”
Rurik’s voice is quiet and controlled, which somehow makes it worse. “You don’t look like a man in a position to be throwing out threats.”
Aiden’s gun hasn’t wavered, his aim steady, locked on Rurik. “How did you find us?”
Relief cuts through me at the shift, thin but there. If I let myself stay where Rurik just took my thoughts concerning my mother, I won’t be able to stop my need to kill him.
Plus, it’s a reasonable question. How did he find us? We’ve stayed hidden for eleven days. And today, two arseholes show up uninvited. Coincidence? Unlikely.
The sharp click of his tongue bounces off the walls.
“It was all too easy. Think about it. Did you even bother to check the women after you saved them?” He watches all of us as he speaks, far too amused.
“Don’t look so disappointed in yourself.
The first thought after something so memorable is to check for injuries, not trackers.
The three ladies weren’t even aware they’d been planted on them.
They were more concerned with the razor wire being wrapped around them. ”
As he talks, Aiden moves me without making it obvious, guiding me a step at a time until he’s between me and Rurik. I’m not even sure the other man notices. It’s too smooth and subtle, something he’s been doing since this entire shitshow began.
The house is quiet. Not empty—quiet. The kind that presses in, wrong in a way I can’t explain.
The small, familiar sounds I’ve become accustomed to are gone, and their absence settles deep in my chest. My first thought is that Rurik is the reason.
It would make sense. He wouldn’t come without an army of men with him. Not again.
“The razor wire was innovative.” Aiden’s voice is so damn calm, a steadiness I assume he learned during his days in the SBS. “Good thing I had my Leatherman on me.”
Rurik’s face shifts, a gleam in his eyes that reveals how dark his soul truly is. “I was counting on you coming prepared. A man with your training wouldn’t let a little razor wire stop him.”
He tilts his head, studying Aiden, measuring the outcome of something he’s already set in motion. A chill works through me at how certain he sounds.
“I wasn’t sure you’d actually get them all out in time, though.
Figured it didn’t matter.” His gaze drifts, calculating.
“I only needed two. Figured you’d go with the youngest first…
then pick the one who meant more to you than that little slut.
” A faint smile tugs at his lips. “An extra pair of hands, and capable ones at that, came in handy.”
“Luck was on my side.” Aiden clenches his jaw, the only thing giving away the tension he’s trying to control. “Too bad it wasn’t on the side of the guy you shot before we got there.”
“He served his purpose. Sanders thought he could take me down; tried to act like a real copper. The last mistake he ever made.” The way he shrugs it off is deeply unsettling. “He shared some interesting theories with me about you, Aiden.”
“Trusting someone who has so many irons in the fire isn’t very smart. Desperate men say stupid shit.” Aiden nudges me behind him, more firmly this time, putting his body fully in front of mine.
“Maybe, but it seemed only fair to hear him out.” Rurik’s attention drifts down the hall toward the bedrooms, his expression tightening as if expecting something or someone. “To test one of those theories to see if it held water.”
“So, you set me up. All this was a setup.” Aiden’s hand squeezes mine twice, and it clicks. He’s not reacting; he’s confirming. My man is smarter than anyone would ever dare give him credit.
“And it worked out better than I’d hoped.” Glancing down at his watch, he narrows his eyes. “Never underestimate a Del Markov.”
Aiden’s phone buzzes in my hand, pulling my attention down. I don’t even remember him giving it to me, must have been when he moved me behind him.
There’s a message from Lane.
LANE:
When Bear barks, hit the deck.
What the actual fuck?