Chapter 27
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Nikolai & Vivienne
Nikolai
The air in the study hung dead as molten lead.
"Sorry, the number you have dialed is currently unavailable..."
I killed the satellite phone, expressionless. Third time dialing Sasha's number. Sasha never missed my calls. Not unless he was dead or unconscious.
On the tablet, the red dot marking Vivienne's phone—like a light suddenly unplugged—vanished from the holographic map.
"Pakhan." Mark, the intel chief covering for Sasha, burst through the door, moving fast, forehead slick with sweat. "The convoy sent to pick up Ms. Cole... was ambushed on the south side. Heavy firepower. We found signs of intense gunfire and blood, but... no sign of Ms. Cole or Sasha."
My eyes stayed locked on the D.C. map, running through hundreds of kidnapping routes, surveillance blind spots, likely holding sites.
That street cut through abandoned industrial blocks—open sight lines, perfect for an ambush. If Marchetti's people made the move, they'd hit a deserted stretch, then bolt straight to their south-side compound—
"Pull every camera feed within ten miles of that street. Every traffic cam, even the dead ones. Dig them all up."
My voice came out flat.
"Yes, sir."
I dropped back into the chair, face calm.
But then—
Crack!
Sharp snap. The solid gold pen shattered in my fist, jagged edges slicing through my palm. Black ink mixed with bright red blood, dripping through my fingers onto the carpet.
I didn't feel a thing.
My heart was hammering at a near-uncontrollable rate.
Images I couldn't stand flashed through my head—
Her tied to a chair, eyes full of terror.
Someone beating her, blood at the corner of her mouth.
Her being...
Fuck.
A savage need to tear all of Washington apart, bone by bone, roared through my marrow.
The study door opened again.
Sophia rushed in, file in hand.
"Sir, we found a problem with Ms. Cole's personal maid Natasha's background."
My head snapped up.
"Talk."
"Her employment record from three years ago with the Volkov family is fake." Sophia set the file before me. "Real identity: Marchetti plant. Gathering intel. And according to phone records, she made a call to an encrypted number today at two p.m.—half an hour before Ms. Cole left the house."
My pupils contracted.
"What did she say?"
"We cracked it." Sophia's voice trembled. "She told them, 'Target will pass Fifth Avenue at three p.m.' And... she mentioned 'pregnant.'"
The world went silent.
I stared at Sophia, throat seized like someone's hand was crushing my windpipe. Breathing turned hard.
"What did you say?"
"Pregnant," Sophia repeated, eyes full of worry. "Natasha said on the call, 'The woman's pregnant, but she hasn't told Pakhan yet.'"
My brain detonated.
Vivienne... pregnant?
The vomiting, the loss of appetite, her face pale as paper—every detail clicked together with brutal clarity.
She was carrying my child. And I'd been pushing her with that arrogant, brutal mob logic, until she fell into the hands of those animals with no bottom line.
Raw terror and regret clawed through my chest like talons.
I drew a deep breath, crushing the emotion down. No time to fall apart. If I lost it, she and the baby died.
"Call in all the Cleaners and strike teams." I shot to my feet, grabbed the Glock off the desk and shoved it into my waistband, slate-gray eyes burning like hellfire. "Lock down that steel mill on the south side. Tonight, I'll rip this whole city apart if I have to. I'm bringing her home."
From that moment, I didn't stop moving. This revenge was just beginning.
Vivienne
When they ripped the hood off, the harsh fluorescent light made me squint.
Once my vision adjusted, I took in my surroundings—
An abandoned warehouse. Rusted shipping containers everywhere. The air stank of mildew and motor oil. I was strapped to a cold metal chair, nylon rope cutting into my wrists and ankles.
Then I saw the face I wanted to tear apart.
Derek.
He wore a tailored navy suit, hair slicked back perfectly, that smile I once thought was "refined" now just turned my stomach.
"Awake?" He pulled up a chair, sat across from me like he was at afternoon tea. "Vivienne. Long time."
I stared at him. Said nothing.
"Don't look at me like that, darling." Derek smiled. "We were going to get married. You haven't forgotten already?"
"Shut up." My voice came out raspy. "What do you want?"
"Simple." Derek leaned back, crossed his legs. "I need you to play along. Once Nikolai's willing to trade the Volkov inheritance for you, this is over."
I stared, then couldn't help laughing.
"Are you insane?" I looked at him, disbelief plain in my eyes. "You think Nikolai would give up his entire family for me?"
"He will." Derek's smile twisted. "Because he loves you. Even I can see that."
He stood, walked over, and bent down to stare into my eyes.
"You know, Vivienne, I've always regretted dumping you. You're way more interesting than Chloe—you've got brains, personality. Not some posing mannequin."
"So you kidnapped me to make Nikolai step down, then you can win me back?" I laughed coldly. "Derek, did a door slam on your head?"
"Of course not." Derek straightened, adjusted his cuffs. "I just think if you chose Nikolai, you should pay for that choice."
"What's your connection to Marchetti?" I asked suddenly.
Derek raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised.
"Business partners." He shrugged. "I provide inside intel, they provide manpower and money. Fair trade."
I stared at him, piecing it together fast.
The old man. Derek. Marchetti. Natasha...
This had been a setup from the start.
The old man thought he was using Derek to keep Nikolai in check.
But Derek was working with Marchetti behind the scenes, trying to destroy Nikolai completely.
And me? Just a pawn in their hands.
"You played everyone."
"More like everyone underestimated me." Derek smiled. "Including you, Vivienne. You thought I was just some pretty boy riding women's coattails, right?"
I didn't answer.
Because he was right.
I'd always written Derek off as a shallow playboy. Never imagined he had this kind of cunning.
"All right, enough catching up." Derek pulled out his phone. "Time to send my dear brother a photo. Let him know his woman's in my hands."
"Wait—"
Too late.
Derek gave a signal. A thug walked over and punched me hard in the face.
Sharp pain exploded. I felt my lip split, warm liquid running down my chin.
Click.
Flash.
Derek studied the photo on his screen with satisfaction—my face half-swollen, blood at my mouth, eyes full of shock and rage.
"Perfect." He smiled, fingers tapping the screen. "This should drive Nikolai crazy."
I bit down, forcing back the pain. Said nothing.
Seconds later, Derek's phone buzzed.
He glanced at the screen, smile widening.
"See? Told you. He's already losing it."
He turned the phone toward me.
A message from Nikolai. Just a few words.
"What do you want?"
But I could picture his expression—those slate-gray eyes burning with barely controlled violence and murder.
"Want her alive? Come to the abandoned steel mill on the south side. Alone. Otherwise, the next photo's her corpse."
Send.
He pocketed the phone and looked back at me.
"Now we just wait—"
A crash cut him off.
In the corner, a bound figure slammed into a stack of metal drums.
I turned—Sasha.
Covered in blood, left leg twisted at a sickening angle, but his eyes still blazed with fight.
"Shit." Derek frowned. "Didn't I say to get rid of him?"
"Boss, this guy's too tough, our guys couldn't finish him—"
"Then I'll do it."
Derek took a metal pipe from his man, strode toward Sasha.
"No!" I struggled, shouting. "Derek, you're insane! He's got nothing to do with this—"
"But he's Nikolai's dog." Derek's voice went cold. "And I need you to understand what happens when you defy me."
He raised the pipe.
The pipe slammed into Sasha's shin. Bone snapped audibly.
But Sasha didn't make a sound. Just clenched his jaw, veins bulging on his forehead.
Second blow.
Third.
Blood poured down Sasha's pant leg, pooling on the floor in a vivid red stain.
I closed my eyes. Tears ran down my face.
"Stop... please..." My voice broke. "I'll cooperate. I'll do anything. Just stop..."
Derek finally stopped, dropped the pipe, and walked back to me.
"That's better." He grabbed my chin and forced my head up. "Remember this lesson, Vivienne. Here, I'm in charge."
I stared at him, eyes full of hate.
Only now did I truly grasp the brutal reality—the world Nikolai lived in was a dark, twisted meat grinder.
This wasn't some crisis I could write away with romantic dialogue. This was real violence, lives worth nothing, an actual hell.
I finally understood why Nikolai controlled me the way he did—suffocating, airtight. He wasn't imprisoning me. He was doing everything he could to keep me out of this man-eating world.
Guilt, love, and bone-deep regret crashed over me like a flood.
But my brain was also racing.
Nikolai would come.
He'd walk straight into this slaughterhouse built just for him.
I bit my lip hard, forcing myself to calm down. I scanned the dim room frantically, searching for even the smallest chance.
I wouldn't let him die for me at the hands of these bastards.
Not ever.