Chapter 28
ANDREY
Iwatch Matvey put a bullet in the prisoner's head, the sound echoing through the concrete room like a death knell.
The man slumps forward in the chair, blood pooling beneath him, and I feel nothing.
No satisfaction. No relief. Just cold, burning fury that threatens to consume me from the inside out.
Mariya, thankfully, went to our room. She shouldn't witness this. She has enough going on without seeing even more death.
A million-dollar bounty. On my wife. On a Pakhan’s wife.
The disrespect is staggering. The audacity of it makes my blood boil. Marrying Mariya was supposed to protect her. It was supposed to send a clear message to every family from here to Moscow that she's under my protection. That touching her means war.
But someone doesn't care. Someone put a price on her head anyway.
"Clean this up," I tell Matvey, my voice rough. "Then find out everything you can about this new family. Where they're staying, who they're working with, how many men they have. I want to know what they had for breakfast this morning."
Matvey nods once, his dark eyes reflecting the same rage I'm feeling. "Done."
I leave the interrogation room and head upstairs, my boots heavy on the concrete steps. My mind races through possibilities, through strategies. Twice in one day, they've hit me. Twice. The docks and now my own fucking property. My home. The one place that should be completely secure.
How did they get past my security? How did they know Mariya would be jogging alone?
The questions chase each other through my head as I make my way to my office. I need to think. Need to plan. Need to figure out how to eliminate this threat before someone actually succeeds in taking her.
The office feels too small when I enter it, the walls pressing in on me.
I pour myself a drink, the vodka burning a path down my throat, but it does nothing to calm the fury coursing through my veins.
I want to hit something. I want to break something, preferably a few noses and skulls.
I want to find whoever put that bounty on Mariya's head and make them suffer in ways they can't even imagine.
I'm pouring my second drink when the door opens. Mariya steps inside, and I freeze with the bottle halfway to my glass.
She looks worried, actually worried, with her green eyes wide and her hands twisting together in front of her.
The sight terrifies me more than I want to admit.
This woman has faced down kidnappers, interrogations, and armed attackers without showing fear.
She's punched me in the face twice and stabbed me without hesitation.
Seeing her worried now makes my stomach drop.
"What is it?" I set down the bottle and move toward her. "Are you hurt? Did something else happen?"
"No, I'm fine." She shakes her head, blonde hair falling over her shoulders. "I've been thinking."
I wait, watching her face. She's chewing on her lower lip, a nervous habit I've noticed she has when she's trying to decide something.
"The families want me because they can't find my father," she says finally. "They think I know where he is, where all his secrets are hidden."
"I know." I lean against my desk, crossing my arms over my chest. "That's why the bounty exists. That's why we need to find him first."
She makes a face, something between frustration and resignation, then reaches into her pocket. When her hand comes back out, she's holding a wrinkled piece of paper.
My pulse quickens. "What's that?"
"A note from my father." She holds it out to me, and I take it carefully, like it might explode. "I got it when we were standing in front of the fire at the library."
The words hit me like a punch to the side of the head. But before I can say anything, she continues.
"I saw him. Just for a second, in the crowd." Her voice is quiet, almost apologetic. "I thought I was seeing things at first. It's been nine years, and I only caught a glimpse. But then I found this in my jacket pocket."
I unfold the note, reading the cramped handwriting. The message is brief, cryptic, warning her to trust no one. Not even me. My jaw tightens at that, but I force myself to keep reading.
"Why didn't you tell me?" I look up at her, and I can hear the edge in my voice. "As soon as you found this, you should have told me."
"I wasn't sure what to do." She lifts her chin, defiant even now. "The note says not to trust you. And then everything else happened. The attack at the docks, the men coming after me. I didn't exactly have time to sit down and have a conversation about it."
She's right, but it still pisses me off. I turn the note over, and that's when I see it. A drawing on the back. A bird, detailed and carefully rendered. A raven.
I stare at the image, my mind working through the symbolism. Ravens represent wisdom, long life, and prophetic knowledge. But they're also feared as dark omens of death, sorcery, and misfortune. In Russian culture, they're messengers between the living and the dead.
What the fuck is Yegor trying to say? Is this a warning? A threat?
"Do you know what this means?" I ask, holding up the note so she can see the drawing.
She shakes her head. "I've been trying to figure it out all day. I thought maybe it was a location, or a code, but I can't make sense of it."
I study the raven again, tracing the lines with my eyes. The detail is impressive, every feather carefully drawn. This wasn't something Yegor dashed off quickly. He took time with this, which means it's important.
"He was at the library," I say, more to myself than to her. "Standing in the crowd, watching. Close enough to slip this into your pocket without you noticing."
I try to remember everyone who was there. The faces in the crowd, the people pressing close to get a better view of the destruction. But it's all a blur. I'd been focused on Mariya, on making sure she was okay, on getting her away from the scene before someone recognized her.
How could I have missed him? True, I haven't seen the man in years. People change. Hair grays, faces age, and bodies thicken or thin. But he couldn't have changed so much that even his own daughter didn't recognize him at first.
Unless he's just that good at blending in and going unnoticed, at being invisible when he needs to be. The thought makes my skin crawl. If Yegor can get that close to Mariya without me noticing, what else can he do? What other secrets is he keeping?
"He's watching you," I say, looking at Mariya. "Keeping tabs on you. Making sure you're safe."
"Or making sure I don't lead anyone to him." Her voice is bitter. "Nine years of silence, and now he shows up with cryptic notes and drawings I can't understand"?
I move closer to her, close enough that I can feel the heat from her body and the soft floral scent that's uniquely hers. "Are you angry with him?"
"Yes." The word comes out sharp, honest. "I'm furious. He left me alone all this time and let me think he might be dead. And now he's playing games, leaving me clues I can't decipher while people are trying to kidnap me."
I reach out and cup her face, my thumb brushing across her cheekbone. Her skin is soft and warm, and I can feel the tension in her jaw. "We'll figure this out. We'll find him, get the answers we need, and end this."
She leans into my touch for just a second before pulling away. "There's something else."
Of course there is. "What?"
"I want to try and leave a note for my father."