Chapter 22
Chapter Twenty-Two
Viktor
I had spent the longest three goddamn days of my life on that shit little island.
It should've been simple. The Sorokov family had stashed a shipment of weapons I needed on a private island in the Caribbean.
The Council of Elders—those ancient bastards—had insisted I go in person to inspect the goods and negotiate.
Officially, it was "too important for anyone but the Pakhan to show sincerity.
" But I knew the truth. They wanted me out of New York so they could move pieces behind my back.
I shouldn't have gone.
I should've stayed in New York. I should've stayed with Hailey.
But I had underestimated how bold those old men could get. And I had underestimated how badly someone wanted me dead.
The second night of the inspection, I got hit.
They came with at least twenty men and heavy firepower, pinned us in a villa on the west side of the island. That wasn't some random shootout. That was a planned execution, timed down to the second. They knew my schedule, my manpower, even where every exit in that villa led.
Another rat.
I had taken eight men with me. Three died. I took a round that grazed through my left shoulder, and a piece of shrapnel buried itself deep in my side.
But I fought my way out.
I had always been hard to kill. That island wasn't even close to putting me in the ground.
Bleeding like hell, I hauled the survivors, stole a speedboat, and got off that ghost island before dawn.
Our comms got trashed in the firefight. The satellite phone got soaked.
For three days I was completely off the grid, drifting for two of them with a little water and sheer stubbornness until I finally reached the pickup.
Three days.
In those three days, beyond staying alive and calculating who had sold me out, one name kept punching through everything.
Hailey.
I had promised her I'd come back. I hadn't even finished that movie with her. I didn't know how she'd been these three days. I didn't know if she'd worried. I didn't know if she'd thought I'd... broken my word.
The feeling was new. Before this, even with death breathing down my neck, I'd never had someone on my mind.
By the time I got back to the estate, it was dawn on the fourth day.
I looked like hell. The wounds in my left shoulder and my side had split and infected from saltwater and nonstop movement. Oleg had been dragged in overnight. Now he stood there with a black look on his face while a doctor worked on me.
"Are you made of fucking steel?" Oleg snapped as the doctor used tweezers to pull that goddamn shrapnel from my side. "A few inches deeper and it would've shaved off half your kidney. Viktor, what the hell did you do to deserve to go die in a place like that?"
"Shut up." I leaned back, my face set like stone.
I could ignore the pain.
But something else was crawling under my skin, making it impossible to sit still.
Natalia.
The second I came back, I heard. While I'd been missing, Natalia Sorokova had parachuted into the Ivanov Group as "interim executive."
On what authority?
I had never agreed to that. It had to be the Council of Elders and the Sorokov family working together. While I was gone, they shoved her into my company, made it look like a done deal, tried to corner me into reopening the marriage arrangement I'd already refused.
"Where is she?" I forced out through my teeth.
"Who?" Oleg didn't even look up.
"Natalia."
"In the living room." Oleg shot me a glance. "The second word got out you were back, she camped here. Won't leave until she sees you. Like a cat that smells fish."
I shoved his hand away and stood.
"Sit the fuck down!" Oleg barked. "You're not even stitched up—"
"Half is enough." I grabbed a clean black shirt, yanked it on against the ripping pain, and covered the bandages that still bled through. "I have something to make clear to Miss Sorokova."
When I walked into the living room, Natalia sat on the sofa like she belonged there, holding a glass of red wine. The moment she saw me, she set it down and rose, concern painted perfectly across her face.
"Vik! Thank God you're back." She hurried toward me, reaching out to steady me. "I heard something happened. I was worried sick—"
"Who let you into my company?" I didn't even acknowledge her act. My voice stayed flat and cold.
Natalia froze mid-step.
"I..." She blinked, then slipped into that wounded, caring look. "Vik, you were gone. The company had no one at the helm. My father and the Council were worried. They told me to come and stabilize things until you returned. I did it for you."
"Stabilize things?" I let out a short, ugly laugh and stepped in close. "Natalia, don't play me. We both know exactly why you came."
A crack split her expression.
"I want you out of the Ivanov Group by the end of today." I said it slowly, each word sharpened to ice. "And you go back and tell your father—and those old corpses on the Council—I refused that marriage once, I can refuse it again. There is no future for Ivanov and Sorokov. None."
"Why are you doing this to me?" Her eyes went red. That helpless little face might've pulled at old sentiment once.
Now it just disgusted me.
"We grew up together," she choked out. "I waited for you. How could you... how could you do this to me because of that woman?"
My body went still.
"That woman?" I narrowed my eyes. Cold slid up my spine. "Who do you mean?"
Natalia seemed to realize she'd said too much. Her face shifted for a heartbeat, then she looked away like it was nothing.
"I don't know what you're talking about."
I grabbed her wrist.
"Natalia." My voice dropped, dangerous. "What did you do to Hailey?"
The living room door opened.
Yuri walked in.
"Pakhan, you're back." His gaze flicked to my hand on Natalia's wrist. He lowered his eyes, expression blank. "Please don't get worked up. Your wound—whatever this is, we—"
"My phone." I cut him off, released Natalia, and held my hand out. "I want my phone."
I'd been dark on that island. Every device destroyed. Four days without seeing a single message.
Yuri paused, then pulled my encrypted phone from his inner pocket and handed it over.
"These days, company and family matters were handled by me temporarily. Some messages that weren't important, I—"
I didn't listen.
I snatched the phone, unlocked it fast, and tapped the pinned thread.
Hailey.
And my entire body locked up.
Unread messages flooded the screen. Line after line after line.
"Thanks for the roses and breakfast. They were so beautiful."
"I'll take care of the dog. You too... stay safe."
"Busy? Buddy dragged one of your slippers into his little nest today."
"Viktor, are you okay? You haven't replied in two days."
"Viktor. Miss Sorokova came to the company. She... she made me move out of the office you gave me."
"I got assigned to a corner spot."
"I want to ask, who is she? What is she to you?"
"When are you coming back?"
One after another.
From sweet and trusting to uneasy, then scared.
And the last one—late last night.
Just three words.
"I hate you."
I stared at them like someone had dumped a bucket of ice over my head—blood freezing, then boiling into lava.
Fuck.
I didn't care who was watching. My thumb flew across the screen as I tapped her profile—
A bright red exclamation mark popped up.
Message failed.
She had blocked me.
Goddamn it.
Why the hell had she not even given me a chance to explain?
Pain—sharper than the gunshot by a hundred times—punched straight through my chest.
"Get the car ready." I grabbed the coat draped over the sofa and headed for the door, ignoring the tearing agony in my side as the wound split again. "I'm going to her. Now."
"Vik!" Natalia lunged in front of me and yanked my arm. "You can't go anywhere like this. You're hurt, and for some woman—"
"Let go."
"She's a nobody! A toy you can't take seriously!" Natalia's voice turned shrill, her careful elegance shattering into pieces. "You and I are the same. Is this worth it? What is she even—"
"I said let go."
I ripped my arm free so hard she stumbled and slammed into the sofa armrest.
I looked down at her. This time I didn't bother masking what was in my eyes.
The instant she met my stare, her face drained white. She flinched back without meaning to.
"It was you," I said, slow and deadly. "Wasn't it?"
Natalia looked at Yuri like a lifeline, then snapped back and forced out, screaming, "The marriage between our families—"
"There was never a marriage between you and me." I cut her off, cold, grinding her fantasy into dust. "That was a deal between our fathers. Not my choice. And as for 'history'—"
It almost made me laugh.
"Natalia, we have nothing. A few appearances, a little theater. That's it. You are a passing face in a long life—someone I can't even be bothered to remember. You are the one who turns it into some tragic love story."
Her face bled of color inch by inch.
"From today on," I said, not even looking at her anymore, my voice final, absolute, "the Ivanov Group will have no cooperation with the Sorokov family. Ever. That marriage will never happen. You. Get out of my estate."
"Vik, you can't do this to me—"
"Dmitri."
The guard at the door stepped forward immediately.
"Escort Miss Sorokova out," I said. "And from now on, without my permission, her car doesn't come through that gate."
Natalia tried to speak again, but when she caught my eyes, she couldn't force out a single word. She bit her lip so hard it went pale, her beautiful face twisting with humiliation and rage. Then, under Dmitri's "escort," she stumbled out of the living room.
Only Yuri and I remained.
I turned to face him, slow.
"These four days," I said, my voice low enough to turn the air to ice, "who got Natalia into my company?"
"It was the Council's decision—"
"You're my man, Yuri." I cut him off and walked toward him, step by step.
Yuri didn't speak.
"I treated you like a brother," I said, staring him down, something cold and sick rolling in my chest—the feeling of being stabbed in the back by the one person I trusted. "You took a bullet for me. So this time, you get one chance to explain."
Yuri lowered his gaze.
"Pakhan, everything I did was for this family," he said, each word measured, no panic, no guilt. "That woman would ruin you. The Sorokov marriage is the support we need right now. I only... did what a second-in-command was supposed to do."
"Supposed to do," I repeated it and let out a short laugh. "You let an outsider into my company, interfered in my personal life, hid information from me—and that's what you were 'supposed to do'?"
"Yuri." I bit down on every syllable. "For what we've been through, I won't touch you today. But you overstepped. You go take your penalty. And without my order, you don't get involved in anything related to Hailey again."
Yuri went quiet for a few seconds. Finally, he bowed his head.
"Understood, Pakhan."
He turned and slipped out without a sound.
I didn't have time to dissect Yuri's calm. I didn't have time to dig into how deep this mess went.
Because my head held one name.
Hailey.
I grabbed my phone and called HR.
"Hailey Woods," I said into the receiver, voice rough. "Is she at the company today?"
On the other end, someone froze in fear for a few seconds.
"M-Mr. Ivanov, Miss Woods submitted her resignation three days ago. She left the company."
Resignation.
My grip crushed the phone. I hung up and called another number.
The eyes I'd planted around her apartment had better report. Now.
Ten minutes later, the answer came back.
Hailey wasn't in the apartment on the Upper East Side.
Three nights ago, late, she'd turned in the building access, walked out with one suitcase and the dog.
She hadn't gone back to her old Brooklyn place. She hadn't gone to her best friend Samantha's.
She had cut every trace I could track, like she planned to vanish off the face of the earth.
I stood in the empty living room of the estate. Every wound screamed. I didn't feel any of it.
Fear—raw and new—rose up, big enough to swallow me whole.
I couldn't find her.
"Viktor." Oleg came in at some point, his face tight. "Your wound split again. The way you look right now, forget finding anyone—you might not even make it to morning."
"Shut up." I cut him off, snatched my keys. "Keep digging. She doesn't have money. A woman with one suitcase and a dog doesn't disappear into thin air. You check every motel, every camera in this city. I want her location before dark."
I lived through the most miserable hour of my life.
Right when I was about to lose my mind, my men finally called with something.
Queens. A cheap, forgettable roadside motel, rust on the sign, barely hanging on. There was a cash-paid check-in. The name on the record wasn't one I knew. But the camera caught a side profile—
Black hair. Green eyes. A little golden dog in her arms.
It was her.
I started the car almost immediately.
I ignored Oleg shouting behind me. I ignored the reopened wound in my side, the blood soaking through. I slammed the gas and tore toward Queens like a man possessed.
Hailey. She didn't get to leave me. Not like this.