Chapter 5 Daniil
DANIIL
The estate is silent, but my rage makes it deafening.
I failed. The ambush in Wisconsin was supposed to end with Naomi back in my arms and Viktor in the ground.
Instead, I walked into a trap orchestrated by my cousin and his snake of an ally, Lucien Antonov.
The name is a rot in my blood, steeped in betrayal past and present.
The memory of the cabin burns through me like acid.
The empty rooms, the stale air, the realization that we'd been led into a trap.
Viktor's coordinates were perfect bait, leading us exactly where Lucien wanted us.
They knew we were coming. They knew our route, our timing, our numbers.
I grind my teeth so hard that it sends a pulse of pain through my skull.
I slam my hand against the office door hard enough that the wood groans.
It swings open, banging against the wall with a crash.
The sound does nothing to ease the violence churning in my chest. At least none of my men were killed.
A few injuries, but they'll live. Roman was grazed by a bullet.
Maksim has a gash across his cheek that he refuses to let the medic stitch.
Battle scars, he calls them. Trophies of survival.
But survival isn't victory. Not when Naomi is still out there.
“Pakhan.”
Lex's voice comes from the doorway, calm and unshaken. He never rushes, raises his voice, or lets emotion bleed through his composure. It's what makes him invaluable. It's also what makes him infuriating when every nerve in my body screams for action.
“She's still out there,” I growl, my chest heaving. The words tear from my throat like broken glass. “Viktor has her. And I walked right into his trap like a fucking amateur.”
The admission tastes bitter. Viktor sent me to an empty cabin while Lucien waited in the trees with an army. It should be impossible. It should be unthinkable that my cousin would fall this far into betrayal.
Lex steps inside, shutting the door behind him with the soft click that signals we're moving into strategy mode. His presence fills the room differently now, more focused and intense. “You're alive. That means it wasn't a complete success for them.”
“Alive isn't enough,” I snap, pacing. My feet wear a path in the rug my grandmother brought from Moscow decades ago. The irony isn't lost on me. Family heirlooms surround me while my family tears itself apart. “She should have been there.”
The image of the empty cabin burns behind my eyelids. Viktor never intended to trade her.
“Blyat!” My fist slams into the wall, plaster cracking under my knuckles.
Pain radiates up my arm, grounding me in its raw simplicity.
The physical hurt is clean and honest, unlike everything else in this mess.
I wipe the blood from my knuckles onto my shirt, leaving dark stains on the white cotton.
“He's been planning this for weeks,” Lex observes evenly, watching me pace like a ticking fuse. “With Lucien in his ear, he has resources you can't underestimate.”
I turn on him, fury boiling so hot it burns cold. “Do you think I give a fuck about Lucien's resources? Viktor took her. He thinks he can touch what's mine. He thinks he can use her against me.”
The words come out low and dangerous. Lex has heard this tone before.
He knows what it means. Bodies in shallow graves.
Enemies who simply disappear. He studies me silently, knowing me well enough not to try to douse the flames with logic or caution.
He knows I need to feel this rage and let it crystallize into something useful and deadly.
The grandfather clock in the corner ticks away precious seconds. Each sound reminds me that Naomi is somewhere trapped, afraid, and possibly hurt. The thought makes my hands shake with the need for violence.
The door creaks open again, and Maksim barges in without knocking. He's all muscle and menace, built like a bear and twice as mean when provoked. Blood has dried on his knuckles from our failed raid, and his shirt is torn at the shoulder where a bullet grazed him.
“Get out unless you have something useful,” I snarl.
His grin is sharp enough to cut glass. “Maybe I do.” He tosses a burner phone onto the desk, the plastic clattering against the marble.
“Our contact in Cicero just called. Nervous as hell but talking.
He saw movement around one of Viktor's places in Illinois.
A safehouse. Not one of the usual ones we have marked.
Quiet. Suburban. Neighbors probably think it's a rental property for tourists.”
My head snaps up like a wolf catching a scent. “Details.”
“Black SUV pulled into the garage an hour ago. Illinois plates, but they looked fresh. Lights came on inside after midnight. No movement since, but our guy swears he saw figures moving past the windows. At least four, maybe more.” Maksim shrugs, but his grin sharpens.
“Could be nothing. Could be exactly what we've been waiting for.”
Hope is a dangerous thing in my world. It makes men careless, makes them take risks that get them killed.
But this is a lead. The first real sign of Naomi since she was dragged out of that alley and Viktor threw her into his SUV like a piece of cargo.
My chest tightens, rage reshaping into icy clarity.
The wild rage that threatened to consume me moments ago crystallizes into pure, controlled malice. This is how I built my empire, not with blind fury, but with violence applied precisely where it would do the most damage.
“Where?”
Maksim rattles off the address, his voice steady despite the excitement dancing in his eyes.
He lives for moments like this and the promise of violence.
Lex already has his phone out, his fingers flying across the screen as he maps the route, calculates logistics, and estimates response times for local law enforcement.
Roman appears in the doorway next, moving silently despite his wounded shoulder. The bandage beneath his shirt creates a slight bulge, but his rifle hangs steady in his grip. “What's the play?”
I straighten, my lips flattening into a tight line. “The play is we end this. Tonight.”
Lex tilts his head, studying my face with those analytical eyes that miss nothing. “You're certain it's her?”
“I don't need certainty. I need action,” I growl.
He doesn't argue. He never does when the decision has been made, and the only thing left is execution.
Instead, he starts listing supplies, his voice steady.
“Three vehicles. Suppressed weapons only to keep the neighbors quiet.
Thermal goggles, in case the property's blacked out. Roman takes high ground for overwatch and cover fire. Maksim with me at the breach point. You lead the entry.”
The plan forms in my mind as he speaks, each piece falling into place. I've done this dance before, many times. The difference is that this time it's personal. It's not about territory, respect, or business, it's about the woman who somehow managed to slip past every wall I've built around myself.
“I’ll sweep the perimeter, and cut off exits,” Lex states.
“No one escapes to report back to Viktor or Lucien. This ends here, tonight, with no loose ends,” I grind out.
He nods once. “Understood.”
I turn to Maksim, whose grin has turned savage.
The prospect of violence always brings out the worst in him, or the best, depending on your perspective.
“You wanted fireworks. You'll get them. But this time, keep your head clear. No reckless shit that puts the mission at risk. We need her alive and unharmed.”
He presses a fist to his chest in the old gesture of loyalty, the one our fathers taught us when we were boys. “Da, Pakhan. You have my word.”
Roman meets my eyes briefly, a silent communication passing between us. He knows what I'm thinking before I voice it. “And Viktor?”
“If he's there, he doesn't leave breathing.”
The night air nips at my skin as we pull out of the estate.
My SUV leads the convoy, armored glass and reinforced doors hiding an arsenal that could level a city block.
Lex and Roman follow behind in a black van loaded with enough firepower to supply a small army.
Maksim rides shotgun beside me, his energy crackling like electricity in the confined space.
The Illinois countryside rolls past in waves of darkness broken only by the occasional farmhouse light.
Most honest people are asleep at this hour, safe in their beds, unaware that monsters like us prowl the roads between their peaceful towns.
The road stretches empty ahead of us, asphalt gleaming silver under the moon.
Maksim drums his fingers on the dashboard, restless energy radiating off him like heat from a fire. He never could sit still before a fight. “You think Viktor's inside?”
“He's a rat,” I reply coldly, hands steady on the wheel despite the violence churning in my chest. “Rats run when they hear the trap closing. If he is there, he'll bolt the moment he realizes we've found him.”
“And Naomi?” His grin fades. “What if she's… hurt?”
I've been trying not to think about what Viktor might have done to her in the name of revenge. I clutch the wheel hard enough to make the leather groan.
“She's alive.” The words are absolute. I refuse to consider anything else. I can't. The moment I allow doubt to creep in or start imagining the worst, I'll lose the cold focus that keeps me dangerous.
We drive in silence after that, every mile bringing me closer to her. The headlights cut through darkness like twin blades, illuminating the road ahead while leaving everything else in shadow.