Chapter Twenty-One
Tiana
My head spins on the car ride back to the mansion.
So much has happened that I don’t even know what to focus on. We still have so much to talk about, so much to go over, and I don’t even know where to start. But Kirill’s hand is warm on my knee, and that grounds me. That’s all that matters right now.
“So, you’re really not mad about this whole FBI thing?” I ask for the umpteenth time. I’ve changed into a pair of sweats and a T-shirt that Dr. Kuznetsov managed to uncover from one of the nurses’ lockers. I’m swamped in the clothing, but at least I’ve managed to ditch the ruined dress.
“I’m not, Ptichka .” He looks at me. “You told me about it, and that tells me whose side you’re on. That’s all that matters to me.” His jaw works. “Although I should make them pay for targeting my woman.”
Make them pay.
Whatever that means. He’s an unusual man with an unusual code.
But I can never get over how much he cares for me.
He would go to war for me, no matter who or what he’s up against. I rest my head on his shoulder and allow my body to relax.
It’s a moment of peace that I’ve not had enough of lately.
I make a mental note to have more peaceful moments in my life.
I must remember that I have not one, but two tiny souls to care for.
Unfortunately for me, my peace doesn’t last very long.
As we pull up to the mansion, something prickles at my nerve endings. It’s a sense of something not being right.
By the time Kirill and I walk up the steps to the mansion, my heart is already pounding in my chest. The feeling of unease that I started to have in the car has only grown stronger.
Something is off.
Where are the guards?
As we reach the door, Kirill’s hand tightens on mine.
“Dima is not here.” He’s picking up on it too.
His eyes narrow and his nostrils widen, like a predator picking up on the smell of blood.
I swallow hard and nod silently, my throat too dry to speak.
He looks down at me, his dark eyes filled with concern and focus.
“Stay behind me,” he says in a low voice.
I can feel the adrenaline pumping through me as Kirill takes a step and pushes the door open. And that’s all it takes to find out what caused the sense of unease.
As soon as we step into the foyer, my heart plummets.
We’re looking straight down the barrels of half a dozen semi-automatic weapons.
Men are everywhere, their guns at the ready.
The walls and floors are peppered with bullet holes, chunks of wood and marble strewn about.
My throat tightens at the sight of blood splattered on the creamy tiles.
No.
Kirill’s face darkens with anger as he pulls me closer to him. “What the fuck is this?” he growls.
One of the men casually steps forward, a smirk on his face. He’s short and squat, a toad of a man with a shaved head and tattoos on his scalp. “Welcome home, Mr. Vyronov. We’ve been expecting you.”
My stomach twists into knots as I put together what must have happened.
Petrov.
While Kirill came to rescue me with most of his men, the Petrovs must have come back here to take over the place.
Kirill probably had this figured out before I did. His hands are clenched into fists at his side I can see the muscles in his jaw working as he grinds his teeth. “Where is he?” he demands.
The man’s smirk widens. “Mr. Petrov waiting for you in the study.” With a gun aimed at Kirill’s head, he walks closer and pats him down.
“I’ll take that.” He pulls a pistol from Kirill’s belt, then dips slightly and slides a hand down each of his thighs.
When he straightens, he’s got a blade too.
“This way,” he says, jerking his head in the direction of the hallway leading off the foyer.
Kirill stares down at the guy for a moment, before he starts to move.
If looks could kill, this guy would be dying the most painful death in the history of most painful deaths.
But instead of falling to the ground screaming in agony, he leads us through the mansion.
We walk past even more armed men holding their guns at us as we head toward the study.
The closer we get to the door, the more my heart races. Fear prickles down my spine like a living thing. But Kirill looks completely unperturbed, aside from the tension in his jaw. I try to take strength from that, staying close enough to press against him.
Keep it together Tee.
You didn’t survive this long to give up now.
When we finally reach the study, our unwelcome escort pushes open the door.
The heavy wooden door slides open, revealing a burly man sitting behind Kirill’s desk.
He smirks at us, his rugged features twisted smugly beneath a shock of silvery hair.
He looks like he’s in his late fifties, but his eyes are sharp and alert, suggesting he’s been around the block a few times. He’s surrounded by watchful armed men.
Vlad Petrov.
And next to him, looking cool and collected, stands Zoya giving us a wry smile.
Shit.
If I thought we’ve had enough to deal with for the day, I was dead wrong.
“Look at what the cat dragged in,” Petrov says, his voice dripping with false warmth. “And you brought your little suka too.”
Kirill slants Petrov a deadly look, then his eyes narrow at Zoya. “Why?” is all he says.
Zoya’s smile doesn’t falter. “Why do you think, milaya moya? I’m here to assist Mr. Petrov, of course.” She looks down at the burly man who’s still sitting behind Kirill’s desk.
Kirill’s hand clenches into a fist again, and I can see the rage building inside of him. “Fucking traitor,” he spits out.
Zoya shrugs. “What, you think I’d waited all those years for you to take me back?
I know how to live with a man like you.” She puts her hand on Petrov’s shoulder.
“You were just the wrong one, Kirill. I needed someone stronger. Bolder. And then I found him. Vlad is going to take over the Bratva, and guess who will be at his side?”
Kirill scoffs, looking from one to the other. “That’s some plan you two put together.”
Zoya steps around the desk and walks up to Kirill. She stretches out a hand and trails her fingertip down his cheek and over his lips. He shoves it away.
“Does that upset you, milaya ? Knowing that you’ll never have me?” She slants a smug look at me. I know she’s trying to get under my skin, but I refuse to let her. I just shoot daggers at her with my eyes.
“I already had you, remember?” Kirill smirks. “And was glad to see the back of you.”
Something flickers in Zoya’s icy eyes, and I half-expect her to snap back at him, but she keeps her composure.
“Well, that’s too bad, my love.” She huffs.
“Either way, I’ll be the one who takes over your empire and stamps out your legacy once and for all.
I spent too many years hating the life you forced me into. ”
“I never forced you into anything. You chose to run.” Kirill’s nostrils flare. “As for my legacy… what about my son?”
“Who Stepan?” she scoffs. “He’s not your son, you idiot.
He’s just a kid Vlad pulled out of one of his slave shipments.
He was my ticket back to you and it worked better than I thought!
You didn’t think twice about letting us right into your home.
And you?” She looks over at me. “Stupid girl. You were so fucking easy to manipulate.”
Petrov snorts out a laugh from where he’s still sitting behind the desk. “I have to admit, I wasn’t sure that would work, lyubimaya . But sure enough, the minute we got our hands on her, he went charging off like some fucking knight in shining armor, taking every good man he had available.”
I don’t say anything. Maybe Zoya is right.
Maybe I was too naive to believe her and run away from Kirill.
And the thought that my stupidity put us all in danger is now weighing down on me.
I should have seen it coming. I can’t believe they tricked me like that.
And now we’re here to face the consequences.
“It was always going to work, glupaya devchonka .” Zoya snorts and she looks at me. “Just look at this naive little girl. It only took a convincing transcript to set her on her way, like a stupid donkey following a carrot.”
“You people are fucking animals!” I spit the words out. I know it probably doesn’t mean anything to them, but I can’t stay quiet anymore. Kirill squeezes my hand, and I snap my mouth shut.
“What do you want, Petrov?” He fixes the man with a stare.
“What do you think?” Vlad Petrov is up and walking over to Kirill, his features turning grim.
He only stops when his face is inches away from Kirill’s.
“I want your fucking life, Vyronov.” He sneers.
“But first, I will take the life of your pregnant bitch. You watch my men rape her over and over again. You will watch as we carve your fucking offspring our of her. And you will-” He raises his hand in a half gesture and points at me, but he doesn’t get to finish his sentence, because of a loud thud coming from outside interrupts him.
Less than a second later, there is another thud. Then another. Then, the door flies open.
And then all hell breaks loose.
I spin around, and the first fase I see is Dima’s.
He hurtles in, raining bullets in an arc, taking out Petrov’s two guards stationed by the door.
He’s followed by a contingent of men, all of them armed to the teeth.
They waste no time opening fire on Petrov’s mercenaries.
The room erupts into chaos as bullets fly and bodies drop to the floor.
I don’t even get the time to panic. Before my mind could fully register what’s going on, I’m being yanked backward, out of the line of fire.
“Stay here!” Kirill barks, shoving me down as he dives for a fallen gun. I do as he says, crouching behind the heavy desk for cover as bullets whiz overhead. My heart pounds in my chest so hard I can feel it in my ears, drowning out everything else around me.