Chapter 17 #2
Suzie, still trembling, manages a weak smile. “You guys took your sweet time.”
Viktor manages a slight, humorless smirk. “Traffic.”
Iliya is speaking rapidly in Russian into his phone. He points over his shoulder, his expression hardening.
“They ran,” Iliya reports, his voice low.
“Two of them, but Maksim found them.” And then he says something in Russian, causing Viktor to still, the rage in his eyes growing into an inferno.
Though his hold on me is still tender, something about that expression makes me want to run screaming away from him.
Viktor nods, his jaw tight. He releases me but keeps a hand on my arm, his touch a constant reassurance.
He walks Suzie and me out of the locker room, ignoring the half-dressed women clustered around the doorway and the front desk guy shouting about calling the police while visibly shaking in his sneakers.
He doesn’t follow as we emerge into the gray, chilly afternoon again.
Several dark SUVs wait by the curb, serious men waiting outside. Their guns aren’t visible, but I know they’re there, ready to be pulled out at a moment’s notice.
And then I see it as I climb into the SUV with the door open for us: a small, distinctive tattoo on the wrist of one of Viktor’s men standing guard for us.
It’s a stylized raven. I’ve seen it before on Viktor’s men.
I’ve also seen it on Viktor. It’s the exact figure as the crest of the Antonov Bratva Viktor regularly wears pinned to his lapel.
I’ve also seen his tattoo with the same symbol, emblazoned on his chest just over his heart.
The memory of the two masked men reaching for us flashes into my head. Because, on the wrist of the one trying to grab me, I saw the same tattoo.
My stomach lurches. A cold wave washes over me, more frigid than the fear of the chase. “Viktor.” My voice is barely above a whisper. “The men who came after us had a tattoo like that.”
I point at the guard’s wrist tattoo.
Surprisingly, Viktor doesn’t answer immediately. His eyes meet mine, and for a fleeting moment, I see a flicker of something akin to shame, quickly masked by his usual impenetrable facade. His jaw tightens further.
“They were,” he finally admits, his voice low, almost a growl, “rogue elements. They will be dealt with.”
Rogue elements. The words ring hollow. This wasn’t some random attack, and Viktor already knew someone from his crew tried to kidnap me. The realization is a bitter pill, confirming every doubt, every fear I’ve had about his world.
The dark clouds have broken open by the time we get to the Chelsea house. Rain on the car windows fragments the light, and the streets are wet, reflecting the streetlights that have just flickered on.
For the first time since Eliza and I moved in, Viktor’s house feels like a sanctuary, albeit one now buzzing with a new, heightened sense of security. More men, more watchful, patrol the corridors. The air is thick with unspoken tension, a stark contrast to the usual quiet luxury.
“Holy shit,” Suzie whispers to me, her gaze taking in the unbelievable luxury that has the gall to call itself a “town house.” “Not even the partners have homes like this.”
“It is kind of insane, isn’t it?”
“So, like, what’s your deal, Iliya?” Suzie asks suddenly. She’s always been fearless, even with men like Iliya. “Are you always this stoic? Or do you have a secret passion for something weird, like interpretive dance? Do you perform on open mic nights in the Village or something?”
Iliya turns, a flicker of something almost like amusement in his usually impassive eyes. “My deal, as you call it, is to ensure the safety of those under my protection. And no, I do not have a passion for interpretive dance.”
Suzie giggles. “Aww, come on! Not even a little bit? What do you do for fun? Do you, like, knit tiny sweaters for attack dogs?”
Iliya’s lips twitch, a rare, almost imperceptible smile. “I do my job. I train. I observe.”
“Observe?” Suzie raises an eyebrow. “Like people-watching? Or are we talking surveillance-level observing?”
“Both,” Iliya replies, his gaze briefly meeting mine before returning to Suzie. “It is important to understand patterns, to anticipate.”
“He’s very good at it,” I interject, a small smile forming on my face. The easy banter between Suzie and Iliya, so unexpected, is a welcome distraction from the lingering fear.
“I bet he is,” Suzie says, her gaze taking in the large bear of a man.
“Do you like to read? I bet you read Russian literature exclusively. No, wait, I know—” The look in my best friend’s eye suddenly makes me nervous.
“You read People magazine, don’t you? I bet you secretly love celebrity gossip.
It’s part of ‘understanding patterns’ and ‘anticipating,’ isn’t it? ”
I rub my face in embarrassment. I have no idea how long Iliya’s patience rope is, but it has to be fraying by now, except I swear I see an actual smirk curl at his mouth that he covers by turning to meet the footsteps coming toward the room.
One of the guards passes by the threshold, then continues.
“So Iliya,” Suzie presses, “how long have you known Viktor? Do you know what he was like as a kid? Was he, like, a tiny little mob boss in training? Did he extort lunch money from other kids?”
Iliya lets out a low chuckle, a noise that almost shocks me into saying something.
“The Pakhan was disciplined. Even as a child. He always knew what he wanted. And he always found a way to get it.” He pauses, his gaze distant, as if recalling old memories.
“He and his brother, Andrei, were inseparable. Like two sides of a coin. Pakhan, the mind. Andrei, the force.”
My ears perk up. Andrei, Viktor’s brother.
“The Pakhan was always the quieter one,” Iliya continues, his voice thoughtful.
“More calculating. Andrei would charge head-first into a fight. But the Pakhan would plan how to win it before the first punch was thrown. They complemented each other. Viktor trusted him implicitly, more than anyone, I think.”
A subtle shift in Iliya’s tone catches my attention.
A hint of something unsaid, a shadow. My instincts, honed by years of navigating difficult situations, prickle.
Trusted. The emphasis on the past tense is almost imperceptible, but it’s there.
A tiny seed of unease plants itself in my mind.
Was it simply a slip or is there something more to it?
“Brotherhood is the most important thing in our world, the world of the vory v zakone,” Iliya says, his voice softer now.
“No matter what, brotherhood above all else.” He glances at me, a strange expression on his face.
“But sometimes, loyalty can be complicated, especially when the stakes are high.”
The words hang in the air, heavy with unspoken meaning. My unease deepens. It’s a vague feeling, a whisper of caution, but it’s persistent, and a sudden chill skitters across my neck.
I push the thought away—what the hell do I know about all of this? It’s probably just the lingering fear from the attack, making me paranoid.
Viktor appears, his phone still pressed to his ear, his expression grim. He ends the call, his eyes immediately finding mine. He crosses the room and pulls me gently to him. His arm wraps around me, a silent, comforting embrace.
“I’ve put more men on the perimeter,” he murmurs, his voice low, for my ears only. “And I’ve initiated a full internal investigation. This will not happen again.”
I nod, leaning into his warmth. The terror of the chase still lingers, but his presence, his quiet strength, is a powerful antidote.
We sit in comfortable silence for a while, the only sounds the soft hum of the city outside and Suzie’s continued attempts to get Iliya to crack a smile.
She nearly has him there when the man’s head snaps toward the entryway.
The door opens, then closes, and footsteps cross the marble-floored entryway.
A moment later, a man bearing a striking resemblance to Viktor, but with a heavier build and a rougher air, walks into the living room.
His eyes, though the same piercing blue as Viktor’s, hold a different kind of intensity.
Where Viktor’s holds a cool, intellectual gaze, this man’s has raw power.
It’s the same with the younger man who comes in behind him—he’s about my age, tall, with dark, curly hair and dark eyes instead of blue.
I realize I’ve seen both men before—trading barbs with Clarissa at the gala for the animals.
“Andrei,” Viktor says, rising to greet him, a rare warmth in his voice. They embrace, a quick, firm clasp of hands and a brief hug.
“Viktor,” Andrei replies, his voice calm, measured. He glances at me, a polite, assessing nod. “I heard what happened. Are you alright?”
“I’m fine, thank you,” I reply, trying to project a composure I don’t entirely feel. My instincts are a low, insistent hum.
Viktor turns to Andrei, his voice dropping, becoming serious. “We need to talk in my study.”
Andrei nods, his expression unreadable as he gestures to the tall young man. “But first, brother—”
“Viktor,” he says, his voice a low rumble. “I would like to offer Marius’s services, specifically for Leah’s protective detail. Given the recent events, I believe an additional, dedicated presence would be prudent.”
Viktor pauses, considering. He glances at me, then back at Marius. “Very well. Come, we will talk more.”
The three men disappear, leaving me once more with Suzie and Iliya.
Iliya moves to a chair opposite the sofa, settling in, his presence is a solid, reassuring anchor. His eyes constantly scan the room, his posture relaxed, yet alert.
“Well, this is cozy,” Suzie mutters, trying to lighten the mood. “A sleepover with the Secret Service.”
I manage a small laugh. “Eliza will be so excited when she gets home from school. We haven’t had a sleepover in a long time.”
“Hey, Iliya.”
The man turns to look at my best friend, waiting silently for her to continue.
“Can you send someone out to get us ice cream? Rocky Road and Phish Food specifically. And sprinkles—”
“Mini marshmallows and M&Ms,” I add.
“Mini marshmallows and M&Ms,” Suzie repeats.
“Doesn’t Rocky Road already have marshmallows in it?” Iliya asks, an odd lilt to his voice as his gaze settles on Suzie’s.
She sniffs. “One can never have enough marshmallows, Iliya.” The gleam is back in her eye, and I hold in a groan as she promises him, “You’ll learn soon. Don’t worry.”
Iliya’s eyes slip to meet mine, and I can tell he’s pretty sure he should worry.
“Oh, and can you get my dog, please?” Suzie asks sweetly. “I know he needs to go out by now, and you do not want to have to clean that mess up. Plus, he’s never stayed on his own overnight. He’s a big baby, and he’ll wonder where I am.”
I can’t help it—the look on Iliya’s face makes me giggle, then laugh, and soon, Suzie joins me. The fear is still there, a dull buzz beneath the surface, but the immediate danger has passed. I’m safe, surrounded by men who, despite their dangerous world, are committed to keeping me that way.
As I watch Iliya, his face still stoic but with a faint hint of amusement returning as Suzie continues to wax poetically about her giant Great Dane, I can’t shake the feeling that the ‘complications’ Iliya spoke of are only just beginning.
The mystery of why Viktor’s men would try to kidnap me still hangs heavy in the air, a dark cloud on the horizon.
But for now, in the quiet hum of the house, with Eliza safe under their watchful gaze, and with Viktor just a few rooms away, and his loyal men standing guard, I allow myself to breathe.