Milo
It takes me exactly seven minutes to reach the estate.
The gates already stand open.
Men rush over the grounds, shouting over one another.
One guard steps directly into the path of my car, his weapon raised, yelling something I don’t care to hear.
My foot presses down, and the impact is immediate. His body lifts onto the hood and rolls off to the side as I keep driving.
Ido’s car follows close behind, and Isaak is in another vehicle just behind him.
She’s alive.
She is fucking alive.
And I know she is here.
That bastard brought her up, claimed she was dead, it was strategic. He was playing me. I just couldn’t see how.
Now I do.
I stop in front of the house and step out of the car, I slam the door shut behind me as I take the stairs two at a time.
Two maids emerge at the same moment, freezing when they see me.
One of them whispers in Russian, her voice barely audible. “They’ll kill her now. After what she did…”
“Where the fuck is she?” I demand.
They shrink back, one nearly losing her footing in panic.
“Inside,” she stammers. “In the main room.”
What could that bastard possibly want with her? The only explanation that makes any sense is that he intends to use her against me.
I’ll get to the bottom of it soon.
Ido is at my side seconds later, Isaak just behind him. We step inside together, our attention sweeping the area as we take in every detail.
The first thing I hear is laughter.
I follow the sound, and when I step into the room, everything inside me halts.
There she is.
My girl.
My fucking reason.
The only thing that ever kept me tethered to this world.
She is on the floor, dressed in leggings and an oversized T-shirt that slips from one shoulder.
For a fraction of a second, relief washes over me, she’s clothed, she’s conscious, but then I really look at her.
And something inside me turns feral.
Blood stains nearly every inch of her. Her face is swollen, the skin is split and inflamed, most of the damage concentrated around her temple and forehead… her lip is torn open.
She’s alive.
Beaten… but alive.
Relief and rage tangle inside me, and it takes everything I have not to tear the room apart with my bare hands.
Her green eyes are fixed on the man standing over her, burning with a hatred so intense it radiates.
I shift my focus to him.
Yuri.
One of my father’s long standing associates.
I move without thinking and position myself in front of her, blocking his view, shielding her from him.
The bastard attempts to step between us.
Ido smashes him across the back of the head with the butt of his gun. The crack echoes through the room, and the man crumples on the floor. I drive my foot into him hard, sending his body skidding across the floor.
Soon, you worthless piece of filth. I will end you. But first, your master.
My eyes scan the space, but Viktor is nowhere to be seen.
Every weapon in the room comes up, trained on me and Ido, but not a single barrel turns toward Isaak.
There is something deeply satisfying in seeing him overpower my father in his own home.
But he is the Pakhan’s son, their future boss. Even if they serve my father now, their loyalty ultimately lies higher. And none of them are foolish to forget that.
“Get out. Now,” Isaak says.
They don’t argue.
I turn away and drop to my knees in front of Octavia as I hear their retreating footsteps.
I touch her face as gently as I can, terrified of hurting her, my fingers careful as they brush blood clotted strands of hair back and tuck them behind her ear.
Her eyes finally meet mine.
Those beautiful green eyes.
Fuck.
The feel of her skin beneath my hand as I caress her cheek nearly destroys me.
I can’t believe this is real.
I am still in denial.
“Baby,” I murmur, the word scraping out of me.
A tear slips down her cheek.
“You came.” She smiles, leaning into my touch. “I knew you would.”
She lifts her hand, her fingers trembling, and when they touch my skin, something inside me shatters.
I feel a tear fall, and I don’t even try to stop it.
“Are you real?” I whisper.
She offers me a tired, almost sorrowful smile.
“Can you kiss me?” she asks.
Fuck.
I slam my mouth to hers and pour everything into that kiss, every second I thought she was gone, every breath I fought to take without her.
Tears fall, and I don’t know if they are hers or mine.
I don’t give a damn about how it looks.
This is anything but weakness.
If they mistake this for softness, they are catastrophically mistaken. I have never been more dangerous than I am now.
For her, there is nothing I wouldn’t do. I would set the world alight and watch it burn without a flicker of regret.
I pull back only to press my mouth to her forehead, her nose, her cheeks, her hands, anywhere I can reach.
She’s here.
She’s alive.
Fuck.
She’s alive.
Footsteps approach, and then that revolting laugh slices through the room. I grind my teeth and turn toward the sound.
Viktor Markev.
I help Octavia to her feet, keeping her close.
She is glaring at him—pure, murderous hatred in her eyes—and the sight of it tears at something deep in my chest.
He doesn’t even acknowledge me.
His attention remains fixed on her… and my skin crawls.
I step forward, fully prepared to tear him apart, but her fingers close around my arm, stopping me.
A sinister smile spreads across the face of the pathetic excuse for my father.
“Well,” he says, a laugh slips from him, “I must admit, I’m wounded you traded me in for the younger version.”
He smirks, his eyes never leaving her. “Imagine my surprise when I discovered my son had acquired himself a little girlfriend. And then, of course, I learned that his little girlfriend is none other than my kukolka…”
His eyes narrow on her, the smile never leaving his face, and I catch the slightest flinch from Octavia.
My jaw locks so hard it fucking stings.
This bastard.
“How I’ve missed my beautiful little doll.” He tilts his head, almost contemplative. “I could never quite find anyone who screamed as exquisitely as you.”
That does it.
There is nothing human left in me now.