CHAPTER 17 #2
I moved to the table where the folders lay scattered. Her notes were there, scrawled furiously in a small notebook, meticulous observations of Volkov’s prison, names, dates, inconsistencies. She saw everything. She remembered everything.
Picking up my phone, I barked orders into it, my voice low and authoritative.
“Anatoly, initiate Phase One. Serpent’s Tongue goes dark.
No loose ends. Report back by sunset.” I ended the call, then dialed another number.
“Sergei, prepare a team. We need a quiet entry into Councilman Thorne’s private office.
Tonight. Get me copies of all his financial records, his personal emails, everything. I want a full dossier by dawn.”
The pieces were in motion. The hunt had begun.
Konstantin Volkov had sown the seeds of chaos, had dared to manipulate the Morozovs, had dared to lay a hand on my woman.
He was about to reap a harvest of blood and fire.
And Rose, my fiery historian, would be right there with me, watching his empire crumble.
The storm outside could rage. We would rage harder.
Just as I hung up the phone, a soft gasp escaped Rose’s lips from the bedroom.
Her eyes, those beautiful blue-green depths, fluttered open.
She blinked, disoriented for a moment, then they locked onto me.
A flicker of something passed between us—lingering anger, possessive desire, and a burgeoning understanding.
“Liam,” she whispered, her voice still thick with sleep, but already regaining its usual defiance. She pushed herself up, wincing slightly as she put weight on her injured foot, but her gaze never left mine. “What’s happening?”
“War,” I stated, my voice devoid of emotion, though my gaze lingered on her, on the marks I’d left on her throat and breasts in my fury yesterday. “The Serpent’s Tongue is being silenced. Thorne’s office will be infiltrated tonight. We’re moving faster than Konstantin expects.”
She pushed the blanket away, revealing the emerald green dress, now wrinkled and torn from our...
encounter in the SUV. Her bare legs, still bearing a faint smudge of dirt from her escape, were exposed.
She pulled a fresh t-shirt and a pair of leggings from a bag nearby, moving to the small bathroom.
I heard the shower running a few moments later, a soft, steady rush of water.
When she emerged a few minutes later, wrapped in a thick towel, her hair damp and clinging to her shoulders, her face scrubbed clean of yesterday’s grime, she looked... softer. More vulnerable. But the fire in her eyes remained.
“Vance?” she asked, her voice quiet as she began to dry her hair.
“Gone,” I said, my gaze cold. “He won’t be bothering anyone again. A loose end tied up.”
She flinched, a subtle tightening of her jaw, but didn’t argue. She was learning the brutal realities of my world, accepting them, even. She pulled on the fresh clothes, moving with a slight limp, but still with that inherent grace.
“So, Thorne,” she began, walking towards the tactical map, her eyes scanning the projections. “You’re going directly after his records. But what if the valuable information isn’t digital? What if he keeps a physical ledger? A hidden safe? Konstantin is old school, he trusts paper.”
My eyes narrowed. She had a point. Most of his financial dealings were digital now, but the deepest, darkest secrets... those were often kept under lock and key, something no hacker could access.
“Vasily,” I barked, turning to my aide. “Send an additional team with Sergei. Instruct them to search Thorne’s office for physical documents, hidden compartments. Leave no stone unturned. If Konstantin trusts paper, we’ll burn his fucking paper.”
Vasily nodded, already updating his orders. “Understood, Pakhan.”
Rose looked at me, a flicker of satisfaction in her eyes. “Good. And what about Dmitri? The summary mentioned you confronting him. Is he still the primary target?”
I clenched my jaw. Dmitri. My foolish, vengeful brother.
He was a pawn, but a dangerous one, blinded by a rage Konstantin had carefully cultivated.
“Dmitri is a distraction, a tool. Konstantin is the head of this serpent. But Dmitri will lead us to his lair. We still need to flush him out. Show him for the puppet he is.”
“So we attack Konstantin’s network, and we bait Dmitri,” she clarified, her mind already piecing together the strategy. “We make Konstantin’s allies squirm, expose them, creating enough chaos to force Konstantin to move. And Dmitri will inevitably react, revealing his position.”
“Precisely,” I agreed, a grim satisfaction settling in my chest. Her analytical mind was a powerful asset. She was no longer just a source of information; she was helping me build the trap.
She took a step closer to the map, her finger tracing a hypothetical path. “We need to anticipate Konstantin’s counter-moves. He won’t just sit back. He’ll send his own men, his own muscle, to protect his assets. To silence anyone we turn.”
“We’re ready for him,” I said, my voice cold and hard. “Every move he makes, every man he sends, will be met with overwhelming force. He underestimated me once. He won’t get a second chance.”
She turned to face me, her eyes locking with mine, a strange mix of fear and fierce determination in their depths. “And what about us, Liam?” she asked, her voice low, almost a whisper. “Where do we fit into this... this final confrontation with your brother?”
The question hung in the air, heavy with unspoken implications. The truth was, she would be with me. Right by my side. She had proven her worth, her courage, her intelligence. She was integral to this war now. And I would protect her, even from myself. But her safety was paramount.
“You’ll be safe,” I promised, my voice rough, stepping towards her, my gaze sweeping over her face. “Always. I’ll ensure it.”
She shook her head, a defiant tremor in her lips.
“That’s not what I asked. I asked where we fit in.
I’m not some bystander anymore, Liam. Not after...
everything.” Her eyes flickered down to my lips, then back up to mine, a silent challenge.
“I’m a part of this. And if I’m going to be a part of it, I need to know your plan.
All of it. And I need to be more than just... safe.”
Her audacity, her refusal to be sidelined, ignited a spark of something primal within me. She was a goddamn whirlwind, pulling me into her orbit, challenging every instinct to dominate, to control. But she was also right. She had earned her place.
I reached for her, my hands gripping her waist, pulling her flush against my body. The contact was electric, a jolt of raw desire that still burned between us, even amidst the chaos of war. My eyes dropped to her lips, full and inviting.
“You want to be a part of it, moya roza?” I rasped, my voice low, my thumb stroking the sensitive skin above her hip.
“You want to know where you fit? You fit right here.” I pressed my erection against her, hard and unyielding, leaving no doubt about my meaning.
“By my side. In my bed. In my fucking war.”
She gasped, her breath catching in her throat, her eyes widening, but she didn't pull away. The defiance in her gaze melted into a simmering heat, a dangerous passion that mirrored my own.
“But not as a pawn, Liam,” she whispered, her hands coming up to rest on my chest, her fingers flexing against the muscle beneath my shirt. “Not as a trophy. As a partner.”
My lips twisted into a dark smile. “A partner,” I repeated, the word tasting surprisingly good on my tongue. “A queen. But remember who holds the fucking crown.”