CHAPTER 9
LIAM P.O.V.
The city was a raw nerve, screaming. And I was the one twisting the knife.
Three days. Three days since Rose had clawed her way out of Volkov’s dark, damp hole, a defiant ghost unleashed into my territory.
And in those three days, I had turned the city’s underbelly inside out, leaving a trail of broken bones and shattered operations in my wake.
Vasily and his men moved like specters, hitting Volkov’s known fronts – the illegal casinos, the drug dens, the human trafficking rings – but I was the phantom limb, the relentless shadow, appearing where they least expected, my fury a roaring inferno that consumed everything in its path.
My body thrummed with a coiled, savage energy, a beast uncaged.
The lingering aches from Volkov’s ambush were gone, replaced by a brutal clarity, a single-minded focus that bordered on madness.
Ivan’s remedies, potent and ancient, had worked their magic, patching me up, but it was the thought of Rose – defiant, vulnerable, mine – out there, alone, that had truly resurrected me.
She was the fuse that had lit this powder keg. And now, the explosion was imminent.
The smell of stale blood and cheap disinfectant hung heavy in the air of the abandoned abattoir, one of Volkov’s smaller, more disposable operations that had foolishly continued to run.
I stood over the cowering figure of Dimitri Volkov, no relation to the old snake, just a low-level enforcer, his face a pulpy mess, his eyes wide with animalistic terror.
My boot was pressed hard against his ribs, a silent promise of more pain to come.
Vasily’s men had already done their preliminary work, softening him up, but they knew better than to finish him without my express permission. I needed answers. Specific answers.
“He talks, Pakhan,” Vasily’s voice, calm amidst the carnage, cut through the low groans of the other broken men scattered around the room. “Says he was on night duty. Sector Seven. That night.”
My gaze snapped to the man beneath my boot, my steel-gray eyes narrowing, promising no quarter. This wasn't just another informant. This was a direct link. This man had been there. He had seen her.
“You were there,” I stated, my voice a low, dangerous growl, “when she escaped.” It wasn’t a question.
Dimitri whimpered, a pathetic sound. “Y-yes, Pakhan... but I didn’t...
I didn’t do anything! She just... she was gone.
The cell was open. The chain... it was broken.
” He choked on a sob, fear making his words tumble out in a desperate rush.
“They came, the clean-up crew. Swept everything. Volkov was furious.”
“I’m not asking about Volkov’s fury, boy,” I snarled, pressing my boot down harder, enjoying the sharp gasp that tore from his lungs.
“I’m asking about her. What did she look like?
What did you see?” The words were laced with a possessive venom that made even Vasily’s hardened men shift uncomfortably.
His eyes darted around, looking for an escape, for a lifeline.
There was none. “She... she was a mess, Pakhan. Bruised. Hair... wild. But her eyes... blue-green. Like a fucking cat. Defiant.” He swallowed hard, his gaze flicking to mine, then quickly away.
“I just saw her. From a distance. On the cameras. Before the dip in power. Before... before she was gone.”
A dip in power. The guard. The hulking brute who had told Rose about the generator, about Nikolai, about the shift change. The information from my own plant had confirmed it. A deliberate leak. Someone had helped her. And this pathetic bastard had watched.
My mind, already inflamed with a brutal possessiveness, conjured her image: Rose, battered, bruised, but still with that fire in her eyes, that stubborn, defiant spirit that had first both infuriated and captivated me.
The thought of her, weakened, vulnerable, yet still fighting, sent a jolt of raw, primal need through my veins.
But it also ignited a fresh wave of blinding, jealous rage.
Who else had seen her? Who else had looked at her with hunger in their eyes, knowing she was mine?
I leaned down, my face inches from Dimitri’s, the scent of fear acrid in my nostrils.
“Tell me, Dimitri,” I whispered, my voice deceptively soft, “did any of Volkov’s dogs touch her?
Did they put their filthy hands on my woman?
” The word ‘my’ was a brand, a promise of swift and agonizing retribution.
He shook his head frantically, his eyes wide with renewed terror. “No, Pakhan! No one touched her! They were just... interrogating. Asking about you. About Volkov. No one... no one laid a hand on her. She was too valuable. Volkov wanted her intact for something. He said...”
He hesitated, a fatal mistake. My hand shot out, grabbing a handful of his blood-matted hair, yanking his head back, forcing him to look at me. “He said what?”
“He said he was going to break her spirit first,” Dimitri choked out, tears mixing with blood on his face. “Before he... he sent her to you. As a message. Broken. Used.”
A red haze descended. My vision narrowed, focusing only on the sniveling coward beneath me.
Break her spirit? Use her? The words were a desecration, a violation of everything I considered mine.
My Rose. My defiant, fiery Rose. The thought of Volkov’s twisted mind even contemplating such an act was enough to make me see red.
The images flashed in my mind: her against the wall, her legs wrapped around me, her desperate pleas, her moans, the raw, exquisite pleasure of her surrender.
All of it mine. Not Volkov’s. Not anyone else’s.
“You saw her,” I rasped, my voice barely above a whisper, but heavy with a terrifying finality.
“You saw my woman, bruised and alone. And you did nothing.” My hand, still clenched in his hair, twisted, pulling his head back further, exposing his throat.
“Did you enjoy the view, Dimitri? Did you imagine what she tasted like? What she felt like, broken and desperate beneath some other man?”
His eyes, wide with horror, confirmed my darkest fears. The thought had crossed his mind. The thought had crossed all their minds. My fury spiked, hot and venomous. No one, not a single fucking soul, got to imagine such things about Rose and live.
I let go of his hair, but my hand snapped to his jaw, my fingers digging in, forcing his mouth open. His eyes dilated, understanding the impending horror. He tried to squirm, to scream, but my grip was iron, my strength born of pure, unadulterated rage.
“She belongs to me,” I snarled, my voice a guttural, animalistic sound, “Every fucking inch of her. Her defiance. Her fire. Her submission. All of it. And no one, no one, gets to look at her, to think of her, to even breathe her name with anything less than fear and respect, unless it’s from my lips. ”
My other hand reached into my pocket, pulling out the small, sharp blade I always carried, its cold steel glinting in the dim light. I pressed the tip against his tongue, making him gag, his eyes rolling back in his head. The metallic tang of his blood mixed with the rancid smell of the room.
“You want to speak of my woman, Dimitri?” I whispered, my voice almost playful, a terrifying contrast to the brutality in my eyes. “You want to fantasize about her broken body? Then let’s see how well you speak, how well you fantasize, when you can’t make a sound.”
With a swift, brutal flick of my wrist, I cut. A strangled gurgle, a geyser of blood, and then nothing but the wet, choking sound of him trying to breathe around the severed muscle. His body thrashed once, twice, then went limp, his eyes wide, glazed over with a silent, agonizing horror.
I straightened, wiping the blade clean on his already soaked shirt, my breathing heavy, my blood roaring. It was a message. A brutal, unambiguous warning. Rose was mine. And anyone who dared to forget that would pay a price far beyond anything they could imagine.
“Any more of Volkov’s dogs on the payroll who were at Sector Seven?” I barked at Vasily, my voice harsh, demanding, cutting through the stunned silence.
Vasily’s eyes were wide, but he quickly composed himself, respect and a healthy dose of fear warring in their depths. “We have three more, Pakhan. Different shifts. We’re working on their locations now. Should have two of them by morning.”
“Bring them to me,” I commanded, my voice flat, devoid of emotion, but thick with an unspoken promise of similar, if not worse, fates.
“I want to know who helped her. The guard. The one with the unreadable eyes. And I want to know where she went. Every street. Every alley. Every fucking sewer she might have crawled into. I want details, Vasily. Details that only a man who watched her escape would know.”
He nodded, already pulling out his secure sat-phone, relaying new orders, his voice hushed.
I turned away from the bleeding corpse, my gaze sweeping the devastated room.
The air was thick with the stench of violence, a perfume I knew intimately, a perfume that now promised Rose’s imminent return.
My hands still trembled, a faint echo of the brutal satisfaction of the kill, but my mind was sharper than ever, focused with laser precision on the hunt.
She was out there. Alone. Injured. My fierce, defiant Rose.
And Volkov’s men were everywhere, searching.
I knew she was smart, tenacious, that she would be using every ounce of her cunning to survive, to blend in, to gather information, just as she had in my penthouse.
The thought sent a surge of pride through me, quickly followed by a blinding jealousy.
My woman. Playing her dangerous games in my city, without my protection, without my control. The thought was unbearable.
I walked to the entrance of the abattoir, pushing aside the heavy plastic curtains, stepping out into the cold, pre-dawn air. The sky was still bruised purple and gray, but a faint, angry red glow was beginning to paint the distant horizon, reflecting the fires I was igniting across the city.
“Vasily,” I called out, my voice carrying over the sounds of distant sirens and the frantic whispers of his men. “Light it up. Every district. Every corner. Every fucking rat-hole. I want Volkov to choke on the chaos. I want him to know that he unleashed a storm, and I am the thunder.”
My eyes, burning with an untamed, ancient fire, swept across the darkening skyline, imagining her out there, somewhere in that concrete labyrinth.
She was a lamb in a den of wolves. But she was my lamb.
And I was the alpha, the most dangerous wolf of all.
And I would tear this city apart, brick by bloody brick, until I found her.
And when I did, she would remember who she belonged to.
In blood. In pleasure. In utter, undeniable surrender.
The hunt had begun. And God help anyone who stood in my way.