CHAPTER 20
LIAM P.O.V.
“You son of a bitch!” I roared, a guttural sound that tore from my chest. My Glock, warm and heavy in my hand, swept across the room, seeking out targets.
Volkov’s guards, a solid wall of armed men, simply tightened their ranks, their weapons locked on me, Vasily, and Rose.
Twenty pairs of eyes, twenty rifles, all waiting for Volkov’s command. We were surrounded. Trapped.
Volkov just chuckled, a dry, rattling sound that grated on my nerves.
He savored the moment, his ancient eyes glinting with malicious triumph.
“Ah, Liam. Such passion. Such predictable rage. You were always so... obvious. Like your father. He, too, roared when cornered. But a caged tiger, no matter how fierce, eventually starves.”
My jaw clenched, every muscle in my body screaming for violence. I wanted to tear him apart with my bare hands, watch his life drain from his worthless carcass. But the timer. The goddamn timer. Every second that passed was another piece of my world dissolving.
“What do you want, old man?” I snarled, my voice a low, dangerous growl. “A glorious death? A monologue before the final curtain?”
“Precisely,” Volkov purred, leaning back in his ornate chair, his gaze lingering on Rose.
“A final lesson, perhaps. You see, Liam, your father was a brute. A strong arm, nothing more. He thought he commanded the Bratva. But I was the one who pulled his strings. I orchestrated his rise, and his fall. Dmitri was merely a tool in my ultimate design to cleanse the Morozov line of its weakness.”
“My father was weak?” I spat, the words laced with pure contempt. “He built this empire from nothing. He held it with an iron fist.”
“An iron fist guided by my cunning,” Volkov corrected, his smile widening.
“He never saw the true game. The grand chessboard upon which dynasties rise and fall. He thought loyalty was earned through fear. I taught him it was bought with secrets, with debts, with carefully placed betrayals.” He pointed a gnarled finger at the monitor.
“And now, his legacy... your legacy... will burn. A fitting end, don’t you think?
To erase the stain of Morozov entirely.”
My eyes flickered to Rose. She was pale, her breath coming in short, shallow gasps, but her gaze was sharp, darting between the monitor, Volkov, and me. She wasn’t cowering. She was observing. My fucking witch.
“You hated my father that much?” I asked, trying to buy time, trying to understand the depth of this old bastard’s vendetta. The timer now read 00:04:15. Not enough time. Never enough time.
“Hate?” Volkov scoffed, a dry, dismissive sound.
“No, Liam. Pity. Your father squandered his potential. He was meant to be a king, but he was content to be a thug. And when I saw the same weakness in you... the attachment to a woman, the foolish belief in something as fragile as ‘love’... I knew I had to intervene.” His eyes, dead and cold, bore into mine.
“Love makes you vulnerable, Liam. It makes you soft. It makes you lose sight of what truly matters: power. Absolute power.”
He turned his gaze to Rose, a predatory glint in his ancient eyes.
“And you, little historian. You thought you could unravel my secrets with your pretty little mind? You thought you could find my hidden passage, lead him to my lair? You were merely another pawn, pushed into place by a master hand. Your discoveries were... encouraged. Your ‘insights’ were planted.”
My blood ran cold. He had used her. He had manipulated her. My Rose, my brilliant, stubborn Rose, a pawn in his game. The thought ignited a fresh wave of fury, a burning inferno that threatened to consume me whole.
“You’re a liar,” Rose whispered, her voice trembling but firm. “I found the shaft. I found the schematics. You didn’t lead me to anything.”
Volkov merely chuckled. “Did I not? Did you truly believe a derelict Soviet-era bunker would leave its most critical access points unmarked, unmonitored for decades? Your curiosity, your desire to prove your worth to him...” He gestured at me with a wave of his hand.
“It was all so deliciously predictable. I needed you to find it. I needed you to lead him here. To this moment.”
My eyes narrowed. He was saying he wanted us here. Why? This wasn’t just about destroying my empire. This was about something personal. Something deeper. The timer flashed 00:03:30.
“You wanted us to walk into your trap,” I stated, my voice low and dangerous, forcing myself to think, to analyze, to push past the rage. “You wanted to show us your ‘legacy’ before it all went to hell.”
“Precisely,” Volkov affirmed, a triumphant glint in his eye. “A final, humiliating defeat for the Morozov line. To watch your world burn, powerless. To see your queen fall. And then, when the dust settles, I will rise. Uncontested. The true Pakhan. The architect of a new Bratva.”
He made a gesture to his guards. They raised their weapons, their muzzles pointing directly at us. Vasily, grim-faced, moved closer, positioning himself slightly in front of Rose, his own weapon ready.
“Any last words, Liam?” Volkov asked, his voice dripping with condescension. “A final plea? A whimper before the end?”
My gaze met Rose’s. Her eyes were still wide with fear, but there was a spark there too, a defiant fire that refused to be extinguished. She was my anchor. My goddamn reason for breathing. I wouldn’t let this bastard win. Not with her watching.
“Fuck your legacy, Volkov,” I growled, my voice raw, stripped bare. “And fuck you. You think you’ve won? You think you know me? You’ve underestimated me, old man. You’ve underestimated what I’m willing to do to keep what’s mine.”
My hand, rough and desperate, shot out, grabbing Rose’s arm, pulling her violently against my side.
Her body slammed into mine, her breath knocked out.
I pressed her hard against me, my arm wrapping around her waist, caging her.
My other hand, still clutching the Glock, swept the room, looking for an opening, any opening. The timer was a red blur: 00:02:45.
“You’re mine, Rose,” I rasped against her ear, my lips brushing her temple, tasting the metallic tang of sweat and fear.
“Mine. And I’m not letting you go. Not for this old piece of shit.
Not for anything.” My fingers dug into her flesh, a painful, possessive claim, a desperate reassurance that even in the face of oblivion, she belonged to me.
My body, despite the pain, despite the chaos, responded to her presence, a hard, demanding ridge pressing against her hip.
This was our twisted pact, our carnal bond in the face of death.
Volkov laughed, a harsh, grating sound. “Foolish boy. You still cling to sentimentality. A fatal flaw.” He snapped his fingers again. “Fire at will.”
The metallic clack of safeties disengaging echoed through the chamber. The guards took aim. This was it.
But just as Volkov’s guards prepared to unleash hell, Rose’s voice, sharp and clear despite her terror, cut through the tension. “Liam! The map! The ventilation lines!”
My eyes, already scanning for an exit, snapped back to the monitor.
The red markers on the city map. They were focused on key Morozov holdings.
But Rose wasn’t looking at the city. Her gaze was fixed on a sub-screen, displaying a complex, almost invisible network of lines overlaying the bunker’s blueprints. Ventilation. Oxygen. Air pressure.
“What is it, moya roza?” I demanded, my grip on her tightening, my eyes following her desperate gaze.
“He’s not just bombing the city,” she gasped, her voice strained.
“He’s using a pressure release! The ventilation lines in the bunker, they’re connected to external vents.
A synchronized blast from outside... not just to destroy the targets, but to create a massive pressure vacuum underground!
It’s designed to collapse the bunker itself! ”
Volkov’s smile faltered, a flicker of irritation crossing his ancient face. “Clever girl,” he muttered, his eyes narrowing. “You see too much.”
My mind raced. A pressure vacuum. Not just bombs above ground, but a structural collapse below. He wasn't just destroying my empire; he was burying us alive within his own fortress, using his own design against us. A final, macabre tomb. The timer read 00:01:50.
“He’s going to seal the external vents after the initial blast,” Rose continued, her words tumbling out, breathless. “To maximize the implosion. He’s cutting off our air. He’s planning to suffocate us. Everyone who’s trapped inside.”
Suddenly, the reason for Volkov wanting us here became terrifyingly clear. He didn’t just want to watch us die. He wanted us to be buried in his legacy, choked by his triumph. He was the rat, and he was burying us in his hole.
“The external vents,” I snarled, my gaze darting to a small, obscure panel on Volkov’s desk, one I hadn’t noticed before, next to a series of archaic-looking levers and buttons.
It showed a diagram of the bunker’s external air intakes, marked with small, glowing indicators.
Some were green, some were red. The ones connected to the ventilation shaft we used were green. “Are they still open?”
Volkov’s face was a mask of cold fury. “Silence, girl! Don’t give him ideas!”
“They’re still open!” Rose cried, her eyes wide, locked on the screen. “The main intake, and the emergency exhaust. They’re his failsafes. His escape routes. He hasn’t sealed them yet!”
My heart hammered against my ribs, a desperate, frantic drumbeat. An escape route. The timer screamed 00:01:10.
“Vasily!” I barked, my voice like thunder, snapping my second in command out of his ready stance. “The air intake! Can you override his system? Buy us time to escape the main collapse!”
Vasily, a man of action, didn’t hesitate. He took a single, calculating look at the monitor, then at the control panel on Volkov’s desk. “Potentially, Pakhan. If I can access the pressure regulators, I can delay the external vent seal. But it will take seconds. Precious seconds.”
“Buy them!” I roared, pushing Rose behind me, shielding her with my body. “Volkov, you old bastard! You thought you had me!”
Volkov stood up, his face contorted with rage. “Kill them! Now!”
The chamber erupted in a hail of gunfire.
Bullets whizzed past my head, impacting the wall behind us.
Vasily, moving with astonishing speed for his bulk, dove towards Volkov’s desk, his own Glock spitting fire, providing cover.
His shots were precise, taking down two of Volkov’s guards before he reached the panel.
I returned fire, my Glock a deadly extension of my will, but we were too exposed. Too outnumbered. The pain in my side flared, a burning agony, but I ignored it, focused solely on protecting Rose, on finding a path to that goddamn escape route.
Rose, pressed against my back, was surprisingly calm. “The emergency exhaust! It’s further down the main shaft. It leads to the surface, a smaller access point. We can make it!”
00:00:45.
“Vasily! The vents!” I yelled, emptying my clip into the advancing guards, the impact of their bodies thudding against the ground.
“Almost, Pakhan!” Vasily shouted back, his fingers flying across the ancient controls, a desperate, almost suicidal dance with death.
A guard emerged from a side passage, a silent killer, his weapon pointed directly at Rose.
My blood ran cold. I lunged, shoving Rose violently aside, putting my own body between her and the threat.
The bullet tore through my shoulder, a searing, white-hot pain that made my vision swim.
I roared, a raw, animalistic sound, and spun, firing my Glock. The guard dropped.
My knees buckled. I swayed, the world tilting around me. But I couldn’t fall. Not now. Not with Rose.
00:00:20.
“Liam!” Rose screamed, her voice filled with desperate terror and love, as she rushed to my side, supporting my weight.
Volkov watched, a triumphant sneer on his face, believing he’d won. “Too late, Liam! Too late for your heroics! You’ll die here, buried in your own foolishness!”
Then, a sudden, sharp CRACK! from Volkov’s desk. Vasily had done it.
A loud, metallic shriek echoed through the entire bunker, a grinding, groaning sound that vibrated through the floor. The lights flickered, casting long, eerie shadows. Dust rained down from the ceiling.
“The vents are sealing!” Vasily shouted, already back on his feet, rushing towards us, covering our retreat. “But I’ve opened the emergency exhaust in the main shaft! It won’t last long! We need to move!”
My arm was a dead weight, blood soaking through my tactical vest, but my will remained unbroken. I looked at Volkov, his smug face, his triumph turning to a bewildered rage as his plan began to unravel.
“You’re wrong, old man,” I growled, my voice rough, thick with pain and defiance. “You created a path for us. And we’re going to use it. You’ll be the one buried here. Alone.”
00:00:05.
“Move, Liam! Now!” Rose screamed, dragging me towards the massive, reinforced door we had originally entered through, the one Vasily had opened, the one that now led to our only chance of escape.
The very air in the chamber seemed to crackle, vibrating with an immense, terrifying pressure. The hum of machinery turned into a deafening roar.
And then, with a colossal, earth-shattering BOOM that shook the entire bunker to its foundations, the lights went out.
The screams of Volkov’s men were drowned out by the terrifying sound of rending metal and crumbling rock. The air was ripped from my lungs, a terrifying vacuum. I felt Rose’s hand tighten on mine, her grip a desperate lifeline in the sudden, absolute darkness.
I pulled her hard against me, my body a shield, my Glock still aimed at the blackness where Volkov had been. We were running, stumbling, as the very ground beneath us buckled and tore.
We had bought ourselves seconds. Moments. Enough to escape this immediate death trap, but we were still deep underground, with the city above us burning.
I had to get us out. And then, I would make Volkov pay. If he wasn't already buried beneath his own goddamn hubris.