12. The Night of the Attack
Chapter 12
The Night of the Attack
Dressed in her silver-trimmed trench coat, Katerina navigates the city streets as our chauffeur, her movements on the wheel precise and efficient. I’m sitting in the back seat, Zara beside me, and two other women across from us, Lena and Tatiana.
Four of us, a tight-knit group. Just enough to get the job done, but not enough to attract unwanted attention.
As we speed towards our destination, the city lights blur into streaks of color. Tatiana looks out the window, her eyes blinking. I notice a slight tremor in her hand. I grab her hand and lock eyes with her. “you don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.” I say.
She nods, “I want, Ava, I want.” she says.
“Okay—” I answer and squeeze her hand. “If you change your mind, stay.”
I pull out my phone, my fingers hesitating above the keyboard. I start typing a message to Alexander but delete it immediately. I do this five times, each attempt more uncertain than the last. Finally, I type “I love you” and hit send to Alexander’s new number. I hope he hasn’t destroyed the new phone yet. If anything happens to me—
I leave the phone in the car; it’s too risky to bring it inside in case someone searches us. Before I stash it away, I quickly type another message to a different number and press send. Then, I slide the phone into the car seat pocket.
“Go get revenge, Devushka ,” Katerina says, as she drives, her voice is a low rasp that vibrates through the car. “You train hard. You ready.”
Zara, illuminated by the car’s interior light, gives Katerina a playful wink. “ Da, mamma .” Katerina’s eyes meet mine, a flicker of something I can’t quite name—-pride?
Tonight, we strike.
I glance at the guns resting beside me, loaded and ready. Katerina’s gotten us small guns to hide on our bodies. I’ve only fired a few shots at the safe house and once at the warehouse long ago when I shot the Raven. I strap mine to an elastic band on my thigh, near my hip. It feels heavy.
“Call me if there’s trouble,” Katerina says, tossing a brand-new miniature phone into Zara’s lap without letting her eyes off the road. “I’ll get Isaac and the guards if there’s any trouble.”
Zara nods. “No worry, mamma. We got this.”
“Remember where the cameras are? We avoid them,” I say.
“ Da ,” Lena and Tatiana say.
Katerina pulls the car up a quiet street corner a few blocks from the club. We creep out of the black car, the air instantly cold and biting. For a moment, I want to stay in the warmth of the car, to hold onto that fleeting sense of safety. But I don’t.
Tonight, I’m no longer Ava. I’m Anya , a Russian ghost. I need to play the role completely. Embrace my roots.
“This is it,” Zara says. “Time to show men what we made of.”
I can see my breath in the light from the street lamps. The road is mostly deserted, a lonely stretch of brick and concrete as we walk down towards the bar, huddled close. We reach the alley, and I scan it. The glow of the club’s sign, a shimmering “Kitty’s Port Bar,” casts a sickly, green light across the ground. We’re just a few steps from the front door, its heavy frame against us.
“Are you sure they’re okay with us coming like this?” Tatiana asks, her eyes darting down the alley as if she’s waiting for someone to jump out and scream ‘booh’ . Her hair is cut short, black, in a bob. She looks intelligent and sophisticated, had it not been for the towering heels and red spandex outfit.
“Yes,” I say, remembering Nikolai’s words: “If you want to work here, stay. If not, don’t come back.” Well, I’m back.
I pull my coat tighter around me, a shiver running through me.
Zara approaches the door. She knocks a few times until the door opens, and two women come into sight. She immediately spots another Russian speaker, one of the women with long blonde hair pulled up in a ponytail, and launches into a rapid stream of fluent Russian. Her voice is smooth and confident. The woman at the door, her face etched with suspicion and boredom, shakes her head.
“ Niet ,” she says behind tight lips.
Zara mutters a curse under her breath.
Damn it, so that didn’t work.
I step forward, my heart pounding. “Tell Nikolai it’s Daisy,” I say, my voice practiced. I’ve rehearsed this moment a hundred times, but I can feel the fear tightening its grip on my stomach.
The woman’s eyes widen, a flicker of recognition crossing her face. She fiddles with a small device, then moves aside, her expression emotionless.
“Why you think, this work?” Zara hisses, her eyes narrowed.
“Trust me,” I say, but I’m not sure it’ll work at all.
Moments later, the door swings open. The woman is alone now, she gestures to us to enter with an emotionless look. Adjusting her sleek hair, she pulls out a cigarette and lights it.
“Enter,” she mutters, her voice a low growl, and turns back to her phone, scrolling through what looks like jewelry shop pages.
“Shit, ragdoll, you genius,” Zara whispers, nudging me after we’re out of earshot.
“Now, will you stop calling me that?” I whisper back, my tone firm.
“Da, ragdoll.”
“Whatever,” I say, dismissing her with a smirk. I glimpse a small, black, reflective globe mounted on the wall, a camera, and quickly look down. “First camera. Look away.”
The women nod, and we strut forward, eyes glued to the floor, trying to blend in. We’re a team.
The music is a beast inside the club; it vibrates through the floorboards, making my teeth rattle. The city outside is holding its breath but in here? It’s a wild party, like chaos on overdrive. The air smells like sweat, cheap perfume, and something darker, more desperate. This isn’t my scene, not usually. But tonight, this place is my battlefield.
I shiver. I can’t believe I’m here. And by choice. I take a deep breath, trying to find my footing.
“What hell?” Lena says, shaking her head. She points at the red velvet curtains. “This club or bedroom?” They’re like a curtain hiding a forbidden world, swallowing the light and creating pockets of intimacy.
“Kind of both,” I say, gesturing to the dance floor ahead. “This way.”
We reach it and see a sea of bodies. The music is like a hypnotizing beat. You can’t stand still. The place smells like smoke and expensive vodka. The strobe lights, flashing nonstop, throwing shadows everywhere, distorting the scene, and turning the room into a blurry, surreal landscape.
I swallow hard, trying to control the panic that’s rising inside.
“Fuck indeed—” Zara adds, pointing to a naked couple on the floor, the woman riding the man, his hands on her hips, his moans drowned out by the music.
“Oh shit,” Tatiana spills out, trying to dodge them as she navigates the crowded space.
I told them about this place, what they do here, but you have to see it to believe it I guess.
Like a vision in black leather pants and smoky eyes, Zara nudges me with a playful elbow. “Ready, slatka ?”
She’s enjoying this, isn’t she? Revenge looks good on her.
On the other hand, I’m on edge. My fingers brush the grip of the gun hidden in my stocking; the sleek, cold metal calms me. Still, my heart pounds, but I force myself to take deep breaths, trying to stay in control. This place, I think, is like a chaotic vortex of noise and bodies. My sanity, my life, depends on it.
“What now?” Tatiana asks her voice tight. Her delicate features are pale and drawn.
“Now we find Nikolai,” I say. He’s the puppet master, the one who orchestrates this nightmare. Finding him is the first step in ending it.
“And then—” Lena asks.
“We take him out, him and his men, just like we planned.” I slap my hand onto the gun, its weight reassuring. This is it. The moment we’ve been training for. The moment we reclaim our power. “We bring Nikolai and Veles to its knees. Then we go after the Raven.” The words taste like fire in my mouth.
The other women nod, their faces grim.
“Tatiana and I will look for missing women,” Lena says.
“Yes,” I reply, “but first, let’s assess the floor. We stay together. I know a room we can occupy. If it’s not taken, there are more down the hallway. We need to scout out his location. Get ready.”
“What if he’s not here?” Tatiana asks. Her voice is small, and her features are delicate and fragile, like a porcelain doll dressed in a prostitute’s outfit.
“I suspect he’s always here,” I say, recalling his chilling gaze, obsessive words, and predatory presence. He is a man of control, of power, with an appetite, a sexual hunger, that fuels this entire operation. He wouldn’t miss a night like this.
“He will be here,” I add, trying to convince myself as much as them. “I have a feeling he’s already here.”
As we navigate the crowded dance floor, avoiding the writhing mass of bodies, I catch a glimpse of the drunk girl from weeks ago. The one who called me a pretty doll. She’s one of the ones I want to get out of here. But she disappears into the crowd before I can reach her. Where did she go?
“Blend in,” I say.
Zara immediately grabs a man by his tie, pulling him in, his gaze reluctantly shifting from the writhing mass on the floor. Zara’s confidence is intoxicating, but I know it’s a facade, a mask she wears to protect herself. Just like me.
“Want fuck later, babe?” Zara purrs. Her voice is seductive as hell.
The man, in his Armani suit and expensive watch, looks at her with lust-filled eyes.
Zara takes his hand and places it on her breasts. “These real, handsome. They belong to you. You own them tonight.”
He sticks his tongue out, pulling her closer and biting her lip swiftly.
“Oh, da ,” she purrs. “We do that soon. I will be back.” She gives his buttock a playful smack and spins away, her confidence radiating like a heatwave. His hungry eyes follow her.
Every muscle in my body is tense, every nerve on edge. We all follow Zara. This is a game of cat and mouse, and we’re the hunters. We reach the hallway, and I let out a breath. I haven’t seen Cole, Nikolai, or Nadia.
Where are they?
I lead us towards the Doctor’s room , where Nikolai took me. I open the door slowly, ready with an excuse if the room is occupied.
It’s not.
We enter the room one by one, blending in with the constant flow of people in the corridor going to different rooms, trying to avoid suspicion. It’s a busy night, Friday, that’s why we chose it.
I look around, making sure the room is empty. I breathe a sigh of relief, quickly locking the door. For now, at least, we’re safe.
“We gotta move,” I say, my voice a taut wire stretched to the breaking point. “Get your weapons ready. Are they within reach?”
“W-what do we do now, Ava?” Tatiana stutters, her fingers fiddling with the strap of her bra. Her eyes are wide like a deer caught in headlights.
“We locate Nikolai. There are offices and rooms nearby, I think. We check them one by one, weapons in handy but out of sight.” I keep my voice level, a dam trying to hold back a torrent of fear.
The girls adjust their guns so they are easy to grab. I take off my high heels, and so do Lena and Tatiana. Everyone except Zara, who’s still rocking her stilettos.
“What? I shoot better on the heels,” she says, pulling her loose hair up in a high ponytail, accentuating her cheekbones. She looks like a warrior princess posed for battle.
I tuck a stray strand of hair behind my ear and inhale deeply. My every muscle is taut, ready to unleash hell. I got this, Ava, I whisper to myself, even though my gut feels like a knot of tangled wires. Got this.
The thought is a lie; I’m barely holding onto my sanity.
I steady the gun, feeling the cold steel against my skin. Honestly, I feel more connected to my swift kick and ball punch than this. The gun, with its cold, metallic edge, feels like a foreign object.
“Alright, let’s go,” I say, pushing open the door.
My breath locks in my lungs. The hallway is empty, too empty.
Where did the flow of people go?
I sense a presence, a cold stare piercing me through the darkness. A wry grin cuts through the silence as if he’s enjoying my shock.
He’s here.
“Well, hello, Ava Parker,” a voice like ice says. “Long time no see.”
Cole’s icy eyes stare into mine, a sleek black gun pressed to my chest.
A wave of goosebumps makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. I step back; there’s a sudden chill in the air.
How did he find us? We were hidden from every camera, every sensor. Did I make a mistake at the entrance calling Nikolai to Daisy? But the name Daisy isn’t connected to me.
“Well, what do we have here? A cute little army of lovers,” Cole mocks, smoothing his beach-blond hair, his grin stretching across his face. His eyes, cold and sharp, scan each of us, taking us in like a predator sizing up its prey.
Behind him, an army of armed men appears, their guns raised like a wall of steel. “Don’t try anything,” Cole says, raising a hand.
“Cole, you—” I start, but the words die in my throat. My mind is a tangled mess of anger and fear.
He steps closer, brushing a stray strand of hair from my face. His touch is as cold as his eyes. I freeze, my body a marionette, my eyes darting between Zara and the other girls; there are four guns pointing at us. Shit, shit, shit.
“Listen, girls, we don’t want to hurt you. Blood is so messy to clean up,” Cole spits, his voice a venomous hiss.
I take a deep breath, trying to calm myself. “Let them go, Cole,” I say, my voice surprisingly steady.
“I’m afraid I can’t do that. They’re too valuable,” Cole says. “As I recall, this was our lost bunch from the shipping container. I remember you all.” He goes over to Lena and caresses her lower back, his touch as cold as his eyes. “Especially you, Lena. We had some good times, didn’t we?” Lena recoils, her face twisted in disgust. “You’ll make me very happy. Niko will be satisfied, too. Maybe we will share you this time.”
“You— you, pig!” I shout. I can’t imagine what Lena went through, but I know it’s something Cole needs to pay for.
“Enough with the harsh words, Ava. Are you jealous? There’s always room for one more in my new mansion.”
My mind races, searching for a way out, a loophole, a flicker of hope. But my thoughts are fragmented, trapped in a cage.
Think of something. Anything, Ava!
“Why this obsession, Cole?” I ask my voice a challenge. “It makes you weak, doesn’t it?”
I’m trying to get under his skin, to shake his resolve, maybe even turn him against Nikolai. A fight between them, a power struggle, could give us an advantage.
“What obsession?” Cole asks, his expression unreadable.
“Your obsession with finding Alexander and me. Sending us a black feather and a lock of Sarah’s hair, all that drama.”
Cole furrows his brow. “I didn’t do that.”
“I know it was you,” I say, my voice firm. “You work with Sarah, don’t you? Why?”
“I do,” Cole says, his lips curling into a sinister smile. He gives me a long, calculating look, a lingering gaze on my body. “We make a good team, Sarah and I.”
I can’t believe he admits it. So, what are they doing together? Are they partners in crime now? Or something more?
“Did you hurt her?” I step forward, my voice rising with anger. But a gun from one of the men jams into my temple, stopping me in my tracks.
“Relax, Sarah is fine,” Cole says calmly. “She’s helping me with some, uh, off-the-grid programming. It’s much easier to export and import humans with a good legal cover.”
“She would never do that!” I say.
“Oh, but she already did,” Cole says, his smile widening. “Now back up into the room, all of you. We don’t want to scare our—customers.”
My plan to throw him off balance mentally fails miserably. He’s playing me, manipulating me.
The girls are gritting their teeth behind me. I can hear it. The men behind Cole are entering the room as we back up, their weapons raised, a wall of steel and threat.
“If the feather wasn’t you, then—” I start, my eyes narrowing. I try to retrace my steps and analyze every move and every detail, but the fog of confusion persists. What did I miss? What clue did I overlook?
Behind Cole, I see a shadow and a powerful presence fills the room. Nikolai steps in, his handsome features hardened with a ruthless determination. His aura is a storm cloud that makes the air crackle. The room freezes as if time itself has been caught in his gravitational pull.
“That was all me, Ava Parker ,” he says, his voice is a low rumble.
“You know my real name?” I ask.
“Of course, I know name. But if you prefer Daisy in certain—settings—I don’t mind that at all.” He winks, his eyes glittering with amusement. “That was not so creative, Ava. I would have expected more from you after you walked into my beauty shop. You were so innocent, so—- krasivyy — beautiful. I knew it was you straight away.”
Me? What is he talking about?
There must have been more hidden cameras in the salon. I’d been so naive, so trusting. I’ve been playing in a game with a master manipulator, and I’ve been playing by his rules.
I catch movement out of the corner of my eye. Zara is shifting her weight, her eyes fixed on Nikolai, her lips pressed into a tight line. She’s planning something, a storm brewing beneath the surface. I’m ready. Every nerve and muscle in my body is coiled, ready to spring at her command.
“So sweet of you to walk straight into the—how you say—honey pot,” Nikolai says, his voice laced with a dangerous charm.
“You—you—” I start, but he cuts me off.
“Yes, me. You and me together , like it should have always been.” His voice is like a siren song, a seductive whisper that promises both pleasure and pain.
“What are you talking about?” I demand. His words are a riddle, like a cryptic message that frustrates me.
“Later, beautiful Ava, we will have to catch up,” he says, his eyes resting on my breasts. I feel a wave of heat, a surge of anger that burns like molten lava.
“Let the others go!” I shout.
Nikolai walks over to the girls, one by one, stopping at Zara.
" Privet, Zara, milaya. Davno ne videlis .” His voice is laced with a honeyed sweetness that makes my skin crawl.
Zara fidgets with her hair, her eyes flicking between Nikolai and me. As Nikolai takes her hand, “Welcome home, Zara,” and kisses her hand. Then, he leans in and kisses her mouth—a deep, tender kiss that sends a jolt through me. He pulls away, his eyes still locked on Zara’s.
Zara steps towards Nikolai, a slow, deliberate movement, “ Privet, Nikolai. I brought you Ava Parker, and more—-women.”
My mouth gapes open, my world tilting on its axis. That was one betrayal I hadn’t seen coming.
“Z-Zara,” I stutter.
“A-ava,” she mocks, her voice cold, her eyes like ice. “Stupid girl. Too trusting, da? You should have known better.”
“You were in the container back in Cole’s warehouse, shipping off to—”
“ Da, I go to Russia,” Zara hisses. “Home to Nikolai, my love.”
I scratch the bridge of my nose, my eyes downcast. Of course . Why hadn’t I seen this? I’ve been so focused on Nikolai, on the danger he represents, that I haven’t seen the threat lurking closer, the threat I thought I could trust. It’s a lesson learned the hard way . Trust no one. Not even your instincts.
“Don’t worry. In family, we have room for more women. And you special. You come back with me to Russia. Anya Petrov .” Nikolai says.
Zara’s eyes cloud over, her gaze hard and unforgiving. “We don’t need her, ragdoll, Nikolai. She trouble. She is stupid.”
Nikolai steps forward, his hand slashing across Zara’s face, leaving a stinging red mark. Zara stumbles back, her hand clutching her cheek, but she doesn’t utter a word.
“You don’t tell me what to do, devushka !” he roars.
“Sorry–my love,” Zara says, a hurt expression in her eyes.
The dots connect in my mind, a chilling realization: Zara’s constant flirting with Alexander, her attempts to steal him away—was it revenge? For something I didn't even know I'd done? Had I unwittingly become the obsession of a ruthless Russian mafia king, a man she loves? The thought makes me gulp down a wave of nausea. I force myself to focus on Nikolai Romanov. He steps back, exchanging a brief, silent handshake with Cole.
They retreat to the other end of the room, and I hear them mention “ Alexander,” something about “making problems.” I feel a knot of fear tighten in my stomach. Could the whole fight scene have been staged between them, a trap set specifically for me? Are they still allies? If yes, then this is bad news for me.
Like you’re not in enough trouble, Ava.
The phone Katerina gave us is still in my pocket, weighted against my skin. Zara slipped it in there after we entered the club. Her latex outfit was too skimpy, and the phone bulged awkwardly beneath it. I wonder if she’s forgotten about it.
With a nod and a gesture of his hand, Nikolai sends one of his men to escort Zara out of the room. He’s a master of control, a puppet master who manipulates every one around him, isn’t he?
“Tie the three of them up, lock the door,” he commands. “ Anya —sweet one, I be back for you soon.” His piercing eyes meet mine. There’s a hunger in them, a predatory need that makes icy tendrils snake down my spine, chilling me to the bone.
“I’m not your sweet one; go to hell!” I spit, straightening my back.
“Keep the — foreplay for later. I like very much, a fiery woman,” he smirks and walks out of the room.
The door slams shut a heavy thud echoing through the Doctor’s room. Metal grates against metal; the sound is like a death knell, sealing us in. I stare at the door, and try to move in my chair. My hands bound behind my back to the chair, a familiar feeling of helplessness threatening to drown me. But this time, it’s different. This time, there’s a fire in my belly, a defiance that refuses to be extinguished.
I remind myself that I’ve chosen this life and have to fight. I have to deal with the consequences. This isn’t a game, and I won’t play the damsel in distress. Even if Zara betrayed us, I’m no ragdoll . I’m not going to break.
My eyes scan the room, searching for any clue, any way to break free. The room is small, sparsely furnished, a sterile, clinical space designed for efficiency, not comfort. A place designed for a sex cult.
A single, harsh fluorescent light illuminates the space. The only sound is Tatiana and Lena’s heavy, rhythmic breathing, each struggling to contain their fear.
The phone in my pocket. I need to reach Katerina. I need to get them here. We need to get out.
“Tatya, are you okay?”
“I-I—,” she stammers, then she’s silent.
“Lena?”
“I’m okay,” Lena says, “Just pissed off. Fuckers. Zara—”
“Yes, I know. She’s a fucker, too,” I say.
My hands are bound. I wiggle my fingers, feeling the rough rope dig into my skin. My focus narrows, and every muscle in my body tense.
I remember Zara's trick: a quick spit on my palm, a swipe of saliva across the knot to make it slippery. The first few attempts are clumsy, but on the fifth try, the spit lands right where it needs to. I rub my hands together, spreading the moisture, and the rope on one hand begins to loosen.
My heart pounds as I pull the phone from my inner dress pocket below my bra. The cool phone feels strange against my skin. I fumble with the lock screen, my fingers clumsy and shaking.
I have to get through.
Finally, I unlock the phone and dial Katerina’s number, my thumb trembling against the screen. I hear the dial tone like a cruel echo. My heart beats as if it’s trying to escape the cage of my ribs.
There’s a sound, and someone is breathing on the other end.
“Katerina,” I whisper, barely audible above the ringing tone. “It’s Ava—They have us.”
I hear feet shuffling outside the door, a low sound that makes me tense up. They’re standing guard. They’re close. I feel beads of sweat forming on my face.
“Where are you?” Katerina hisses into the phone. I’ve never heard her so rattled. Well, except for that night at Cole’s warehouse. That night. Those memories.
“It’s called the Doctor’s room. It’s inside the club, at the beginning of the corridor after the dance floor,” I say, my voice clipped, urgent. “We’re tied up.”
“Stay put. We come, slatka ,” Katerina says, her voice firm. I hear a familiar voice in the background that makes my chest tighten.
“Alexander?” I whisper.
“Ava,” Alex grunts; his voice is deep and rough. “I’m on my way.”
Tears well up in my eyes. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I just wanted to help take them down. I didn’t want to lose you. I knew you wouldn’t let me go—” The words spill out like a torrent.
“Not now, Ava. Stay alive, don’t do anything stupid,” Alex demands. “I’m coming.”
“Be careful,” I say. “They’ll be expecting you.”
I hang up, my heart hammering in my chest. I press my back against the chair, my eyes closed, my body tense. I’ve only got half a hand free, and I don’t manage to loosen the ropes anymore.
I take a deep breath, trying to calm my racing thoughts. I open my eyes, and my gaze hardens. I’m not going to let him break me. I am Ava Parker or Anya Petrov. It doesn’t matter which name I use. I am me, and I’m not going to back down.