CHAPTER NINE
DMITRY
Pistol drawn, I push the barrel into Nikolai’s chest. One pull of the trigger would send him back to Hell.
“We might have killed the wrong twin the first time but this time there’s no mistaking who the fuck you are.” I grit my teeth and push the pistol further into his chest.
As I contemplate pulling the trigger a second man appears, and I back off from Nikolai as it hits me all at once—this man is the head of the bratva.
The one Natalia told me about. The one behind everything.
He’s standing here like a king in a den of darkness except I know he lives in luxury.
His black suit is sharp and crisp, his smile cold and calculated.
I see the glint of gold on the second man’s wrist and the gun at his hip, but I don’t flinch. This beast ruins lives, hurts women, and runs an empire he’s built on fear, pain, cruelty, human suffering like no other.
“Dmitry,” he says smoothly, his voice like ice. “I’ve been expecting you.”
The way he snarls my name is telling. It hits me and I suck in a sharp, fast breath, blood rushes through my veins and my heart drums erratically, pulsating so hard that it’s all I can hear.
Fuck. I only experience this bullshit whenever trauma hits and now I know who this fucker is it’s hitting me like a train travelling a million miles an hour. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Dima get out of your head.
Our eyes meet and his stare burns into me.
His eyes feel familiar, not from a memory but I know them.
I know him. His eyes dark as the night but golden speckles dot around his left eye and a blue almost gray patch scratches a quarter of his right iris, exactly as Grandpa’s journal Roped detailed the way Anna described the monster’s eyes in her diary.
The gut punch of truth hits me, and I can’t deny it any longer. “You’re ... a monster. A rapist. You’re Volk?” I spit the words, my voice trembling with disbelief and rage.
His smile widens. “Yes. Dmitry. It seems you’ve heard of me.
I’m Volk. I’m your father. And because you’re my son, I’ll allow you to know my real name .
.. it’s Mikhail.” He lets out a twisted chuckle.
“Your mother ... your real mother ... was mine, long before you were born. And she was ...” his words drip venom.
“... weak. A whore, really, but I gave her purpose. And you—my son. You’re the product of my will.
You exist because I forced her. No one gets to tell me no.
The way I pinned her down as she begged me not to fuck her.
But I won, not that she ever stood a chance. You should be thanking me, son.”
Every muscle in me tightens. I see red. Not just anger—pure, unfiltered rage. Pawel knows what I’m about to do and grabs hold of Natalia pulling her with him as he ducks behind a desk. He guards my girl as he watches me transform into something darker than anything I ever imagined I’m capable of.
“You’re a fucking disgusting rapist pig. You killed her. It’s your fault she died,” I hiss.
He chuckles, amused, and arrogantly steps forward, toying with the gun strapped to his side.
“She was nothing, Dmitry. You should be grateful. You were only born because of me, because I fucked you into her, and you survived, didn’t you?”
I don’t answer.
I don’t have to play his fucking game.
I bend down and retrieve my other blade from the sheaf tucked inside my boot and lunge forward at the evil bastard in front of me. I drive the knife into his chest, not giving a fuck about the cold steel of his gun pressing to my side.
Die motherfucker, that’s right, the son you so proudly proclaim you brought into this hell is the same monster that’s taking you out of it.
Fucking, pig. Fucking, rapist, piece of fucking shit.
I continue to stab at his chest and see Pawel struggling with Nikolai. Pawel holds him back from helping the monster.
“You say I was born from your will, well guess what motherfucker you die today. You die now. You die by my fucking hand, my blade, you die by my fucking will.”
“You’d really kill your own father, your own flesh and blood. The man that gifted you life? Without me you’d have never existed,” he says taunting me.
“Being born by your hand was a curse. You’re the reason I was forced to endure life.
A life I’ve wanted to escape more times than I can count.
But there’s one thing you don’t realize old man .
.. you may think you’ve met monsters before, but you’ve never met me.
I’m the monster nightmares are made of.” I snarl and pull my blade from his chest before slamming it into him again.
In my rage I’m unaware that my blade has bent, broken. No trace of blood. Not a drip. Then I realize.
What the fuck?
I look at his chest to see his suit is torn but there are no wounds, only slashes against what is clearly a fucking bullet proof vest.
I move my hand to stab the blade at his neck, broken or not, it’s still sharp enough to impale his carotid artery and cause him to bleed out. I fucking know that much, but as I move his hand grips my wrist, stopping me from murdering the motherfucker.
He laughs. “Now that’s no way to treat your father, Dmitry Zorin.”
Zorin. That means ... No. Fuck no. Nikolai, Vlad ... they’re my ....
I don’t want to deal with this reality, with my reality.
What the fuck, that means I really am evil spawned from evil. Maybe Sylvia didn’t create me. Maybe it’s my tainted blood. Perhaps the psycho I embrace so openly was never created during my childhood. It’s in my roots. It’s in my DNA. I am a demon.
“Natalia!” I roar.
She steps forward, the pistol she took from my nightstand is raised, her hands are steady. Pawel is beside me, breathing hard; his knife poised. Volk’s men rush the room but we’re ready.
I move like a predator, slashing and stabbing, teeth gritted as I feel warm blood on my fingers.
Natalia shoots with a fierce sharpness like a fucking lioness.
Pawel fights beside me, holding his own, slicing through anyone who comes too close.
The warehouse is chaos—shouts, screams, gunfire, the metallic scent of blood thick in the air—but my focus is sharp. All of it leads to him.
Nikolai tries to flee. I tackle him to the floor, knife at his throat. My chest heaving, fury burning hotter than any fire. “You will never touch her again. You will never touch anyone I care about again,” I growl, my voice trembling with hate and rage.
But just as I’m about to end his life I’m yanked backward by one of his men. As I fight this pig, I can see my girl and I watch her as closely as I can.
She moves past the bodies littered around us, her pistol steady on Volk’s men. She’s lethal, precise. Every shot she fires takes out the bastards who enslaved her, who hurt her. She is a storm, a force of vengeance.
I glance at her, heart hammering, and she meets my eyes. Silent communication. We’ll finish this together.
Pawel and I are breathing hard, blades slick, when a figure steps out of the shadows.
“Stop!” I bark, my knife ready—but something in my gut twists.
Natalia freezes and the color leaves her flesh.
“Mother. You’re alive!” The shock in her voice is evident. She stares at her the same way she’d stared at Nikolai.
Two fucking ghosts in one night.
My girl doesn’t deserve this. She doesn’t deserve more trauma.
I look at the woman with a fresh rush of rage in my veins.
You fucking abandoned my girl. My sweet Natalia. How could you? Fucking bitch.
“You must be my daughter’s latest plaything. I’ve heard all about you Dmitry ... I’ve kept tabs on my little whore of a daughter. You know she let her stepdad fuck her from being a child. You could do so much better. I wonder if you fuck as good as your father.” She sneers.
“Go fuck yourself,” I retort.
Natalia steps forward. “You left me with him. You’re right, I was a child, a child who was abused by the man you left me with. You know damn well I didn’t choose that. You’re unwell.”
“I really don’t care, Natalia.”
“I won’t be a victim anymore. I’m done. You let me think you were dead for all these years. You cruel, evil bitch.” She snaps.
Natalia’s mother laughs. “Oh, my sweet child, I never considered bringing you with me into this life. You were nothing but a wicked burden. You did this all to yourself.”
“You have no idea what I’ve been through,” Natalia replies and her voice breaks.
I can tell she’s trying not to cry.
“The game ends here. You all know you’ll never make it out of here alive.” She smirks.
“Fuck you, bitch!” Natalia takes aim at her mother but she dodges the bullets and escapes from the room.
The three of us continue to fight against Volk’s men. We’re hot and exhausted but determined. Grandpa trained Pawel and I well. I remember he taught Natalia to shoot a couple times, and it clearly stuck with her too.
The remaining men falter and my father ... Volk ... Mikhail whatever fucking name the piece of shit is going by, blends into the others. Nikolai disappears from sight.
Pawel is cutting down anyone foolish enough to try and run. Natalia moves fast, freeing the girls hidden in rooms, ushering them toward safety. Each rescued face is a victory. Each scream that turns into tears of relief is a promise fulfilled.
When it’s over, I collapse against the wall, chest heaving. Blood is everywhere—not just theirs, ours too. I look at Natalia. She’s soaked in sweat and dirt, pistol still in hand, hair sticking to her face, eyes blazing.
I can’t believe she’s alive, and I can’t believe she’s mine.
I pull her to me, crushing her in my arms.
“I thought I’d lost you in all of the chaos.” I admit, my voice is low and raw.
“You didn’t,” she whispers, wrapping her arms around me. “We’re alive. We did this together.”
Pawel nods, bleeding but alive.
Her lips meet mine, soft, fierce and unshakable. And in the ruins of the warehouse, with blood on our hands and victory in our hearts, we hold each other—broken, battered, but together.