Chapter 21 - Anton
“Talk to me, Yaroslav. Tell me you found him?” I demand, pacing up and down my home office.
Yaroslav nods. “We found out where he’s staying in Detroit.”
My chest is tight with stress. I press my hand up to my heart and take a deep breath. “So, we have him?” I ask, relieved.
“Yes, sir. He’s there. He’s held up with a team of men. I just got a report before I came in here. My men have eyes on him.”
I pace up and down my office, rubbing my hand over my jaw as I consider all of my options.
“What do you want to do?” Yaroslav asks when I say nothing.
I could wait and watch. I could gather intel. I could spy and plan something.
But I’m fucking sick of waiting. I’m sick of lying low and keeping myself under the radar. I’m sick of hiding and waiting for other people to make the first move.
I come to a stop and turn to face Yaroslav. “Get the men ready. We’re going to pay a visit to Illyin Toloff.”
“Now?”
“Yes. Now.”
My heart races with anticipation, but I know this is the only real option I have.
He came so close to taking her from me, and I will do anything and everything in my power to not let that happen. Including facing Illyin directly.
***
Yaroslav walks at my side as we enter Ilyin’s building in the city. It’s an old hotel, and it appears that he has booked the entire place for however long he plans to be here.
I came with five men. Enough to get me out of trouble, but not enough to suggest that I want to start a war right here and now.
I hear shouting ahead of me from around the corner which I assume leads to the elevators. Illyin is snarling at the messenger.
“Sir, they demanded to see you,” the man says.
“And you just let them in?” Illyin snaps.
“It was better than having them shoot their way in,” the man argues.
“I only came here to talk Illyin,” I call out loudly, raising my hands to show him that I am not holding a weapon.
He rounds the corner, his eyes on me right away and his fists clenched at his sides.
Behind him, a group of men follows closely, weapons in hand, not showing the same etiquette that I am.
“Sir,” Yaroslav mutters.
“Stay neutral,” I whisper.
Illyin marches towards me, bringing me and my men to a stop beneath the high ceiling of the entrance foyer.
“What the fuck are you doing here, Anton Radev? I should gut you where you stand for what you did,” he snarls at me.
“As I said, I came to talk.” My voice is even and calm, even though my heart is pounding like a thousand drums. “Something you could have allowed your sister the chance to do without trying to drag her off against her will,” I add to make a point.
“What the fuck do you know about how I should handle my fucking sister!” he screams in fury, spit spraying from his mouth as he throws his words at me in accusation.
I turn my head to the side and sigh softly.
“I know she is an adult and capable of making her own choices,” I say, looking back at him.
“Is that why you kidnapped her? Because you’re such an amazing, good, kind person?” he snaps.
“Fair. Yes. But things have changed, and if give me the chance to explain, we can talk about a solution for—”
“There are no fucking solutions that don’t involve you dying, Anton Radev!” he snaps, raising his gun.
My men jump into action.
Yaroslav grabs the back of my Kevlar vest, hidden beneath my shirt. He pulls me backward towards the exit as gunfire breaks out around me.
Right where I was standing a second ago, the tiles explode as a bullet smashes into them.
“Illyin!” I scream in anger as Yaroslav manages to pull me safely behind a wall. He shoves me hard towards the exit.
My men form a barrier around me as we exit the building.
Only two shots are fired with purpose from their weapons: one in the leg of a guard blocking our way, the other in the arm of a man about to shoot me.
All the other bullets that come from my men’s weapons are deterrents, cover fire to help us escape.
I have no fucking idea how we manage to get out of there without killing anyone or sustaining any serious injuries, but we manage.
Only just.
By the skin of our teeth.
Yaroslav yells, “Drive!” and the man waiting in the car is already pressing his foot against the accelerator as my last man falls into the van.
Breathing heavily, I close my eyes for a second. I don’t hear a car coming after us. I don’t hear a chase.
“Is anyone hit?” I ask, letting my breath out slowly.
“I got hit in the Kevlar.”
“Me too.”
There are groans and grumbles, and there will definitely be impressive bruises beneath the protective layer of Kevlar, but overall, I’d say we got lucky.
“That didn’t go well,” Yaroslav huffs, looking backward out of the tinted rear window.
“That went terribly,” I confirm, pressing my fingers against my eyes and massaging the headache building behind them. “Drop me at my car.”
“Yes, sir.”
I climb into my car with heaviness clouding my thoughts. That couldn’t have gone any worse than it did, apart from one of us losing our lives. And I had no intention of shooting Illyin. I told all of my men before we arrived that he was not to be harmed.
He’s her brother, after all. She loves him, and I doubt she would be able to forgive me if I hurt him in any way.
But I have to admit that I didn’t expect him to be that level of hostile. I thought maybe we would have a chance to exchange at least a few words, even if they were heated and angry. We could have started a conversation.
The engine growls to life, and I push my foot against the accelerator, pulling out of the parking lot and into the street.
So, what happens next?
What do I do now?
What will Illyin do now?
Fuck.
This is so much worse than I thought, because without any kind of communication from him, the next step is impossible to guess or plan.
All the way home, I am drowning in worry.
Will he come after her with more force next time? The only reassurance I have in all of this is that I know he won’t harm her.
But what happens when he finds out she’s pregnant with my child? Will he bring harm to the baby?
My blood boils at the thought and my fingers dig into the steering wheel.
Don’t get distracted. You need to focus. You need to find a way out of this mess.
By the time I arrive home, my thoughts are a mess.
Walking into the house, I’m exhausted from the stress of it, but I am determined not to worry Izabel with this.
She’s already going through a lot, and her health is more important than anything else.
I can’t tell her about the shootout. I can’t tell her that it was a total failure when I tried to talk to her brother.
Izabel runs over to me to hug me. “Hi, I’ve missed you!” she says, snuggling close.
“I’ve missed you too, little pixie.”
She looks up, her eyes narrowed and her nose scrunched up. “What’s wrong?” she demands.
I chuckle, amazed at how quickly she can pick up on my mood. “Nothing. I just had a long day at work.”
She narrows her eyes even more, not convinced. “It’s more than that. You look upset,” she insists.
I brush my fingers through her hair and smile wider. “Beautiful little princess, all I want to do is sit with you in my arms in front of the fire. That will fix everything.”
She grins, shaking her head. “Fine, keep your secrets. But before any fire snuggling, you have to eat some dinner. I made roast chicken.”
“Really? With potatoes?” I ask.
“With potatoes. Extra crunchy on the outside and soft on the inside. Just like you,” she giggles.
We eat dinner together in the living room.
She is sitting cross-legged on the floor with her food on the coffee table and I have my plate balanced on my lap.
She’s chatting about her day and her thoughts, carefully avoiding any topics relating to her brother, although I am sure he’s on her mind a lot today.
I’m listening, but I’m somewhere else. Worried. Thinking about the future. Wondering how to keep her safe so that the life we are building together doesn’t get taken from us.
“Anton?”
She says my name with expectation and worry.
“Mm?” I mumble, snapping out of my daze.
“You’ve hardly been listening all night. Please tell me what’s wrong,” she says.
“I’m sorry. I’m so tired I feel like I’ve been hit by a train. I think I need to get an early night.”
“Well, we can go shower after dinner and crawl right into bed,” she smiles.
“Sounds perfect,” I say, setting my empty plate aside.
My phone rings from my back pocket, and I sigh, agitated.
“Just ignore it,” she suggests.
I pull the phone out to see who it is. My heart almost stops.
This must be Illyin.
His name is flashing across my screen.
“Uh. Sorry. I have to take this,” I mutter without looking away from the phone.
Sliding my finger across the screen, I answer the call and press the phone against my ear as I stand up, already walking out of the living room. This is not a call I want her to overhear.
“Yes?” I huff.
“Anton, I am presuming you know exactly who this is,” he snaps.
“So, what? You want to talk now, suddenly? Why couldn’t you manage a decent conversation this afternoon?”
“Talk?” he scoffs. “Let me fucking tell you something, Radev. And let me make this so fucking clear that nothing, nothing gets misunderstood. That girl is my life. She is my family. I have spent my whole fucking existence protecting her from monsters like you. Monsters that I have and will skin alive if that is what it takes to keep them away from her. She’s my fucking sister, you fucking piece of shit!
And you thought you could just take her from me?
You thought I’d let you get away with that?
” he’s screaming into the phone, spiking my anger and adrenaline.
My blood rushes through my ears, and my heart beats harder and faster.
“You have no idea what your own sister wants!” I snarl over his words. But he isn’t listening.
“I fucking know what she needs! And it isn’t you!
It isn’t some second-rate piece of shit who never achieved fucking anything in his life.
Always second best, hey, Anton. Never good enough.
Never strong enough. Never smart enough.
We all know Josiah won hands-down in every way.
He made such a mockery of you that no one else even bothered to challenge you.
You are a fucking embarrassment to the Bratva world, and now you think you deserve my sister?
A weak, pathetic piece of shit like you deserves nothing! ”
He won’t stop.
He’s going on and on. Tearing me down. Making me feel like shit. He’s striking me in all the ways he knows I’ve struggled with. He’s playing fucking dirty, and I won’t tolerate it!
“You are weak, pathetic, insignificant little…”
“We’ll see who is weak and pathetic when your entire world falls apart, when you realize you are never going to see her again!
You don’t deserve her. She deserves someone who values who she is and doesn’t try to change her!
” I snarl in a rage. “You think I will ever let her near you? Fucking forget it, Illyin. She belongs to me now, and I’ll make the rest of your life a misery; you’ll suffer every moment of your existence, never knowing where she is or how she’s doing!
You want to talk about weak and pathetic?
We’ll see how your life becomes flooded with regret, Illyin.
You will fall apart. I will make sure of it. ”
I slam the phone down, my hand shaking from rage as I walk up and down the upstairs hallway, trying to catch my breath and stop the anger from exploding out of me.
I shouldn’t have said those things. I know I made it worse, but he pushed me. He pushed me too far.
“Fuck,” I grumble, pushing my fingers through my close-cropped hair. “Fuck,” I mutter again, filled with regret.