Chapter 49 Eva
EVA
Consciousness returns in fragments. The chemical taste of chloroform coating my tongue. The throb of my skull where it connected with something hard during the struggle. The cold seeping through the concrete floor beneath me, making my bones ache despite the layers of clothing I'm still wearing.
I force my eyes open, blinking against the dim light filtering through grimy windows high above.
A warehouse. Abandoned, judging by the rust staining the metal beams overhead and the way my breath forms clouds in the frigid air.
My hands are zip-tied behind my back, the plastic cutting into my wrists with every slight movement.
My ankles are bound too, and when I try to shift position, pain shoots through my shoulders from being in this awkward angle for God knows how long.
My first coherent thought is of the baby. My hand instinctively tries to move to my stomach, but the restraints hold firm. Panic floods my system, hot and immediate. Is the baby okay? Did the chloroform hurt our child? The questions spiral through my mind, each one more terrifying than the last.
My second thought is of Roman. He must know by now that something's wrong.
He's probably tearing the city apart looking for me, his blue eyes cold with the kind of rage that makes grown men piss their pants.
The image of him bursting through the warehouse doors, gun drawn, ready to destroy anyone who touched me, makes my chest tight with longing so powerful, it nearly steals my breath.
I love him. The realization from last night crashes over me again, even more devastating in this moment of terror. I love Roman Sokolov with a desperation that defies logic, and I might never get the chance to tell him again.
Footsteps echo through the warehouse, heels clicking against concrete with deliberate precision. I tense, my body coiling with the instinct to fight despite the restraints. The sound grows closer, and a figure emerges from the shadows near the entrance.
I should be surprised to see Irina Titova standing there, elegant in a designer coat, her dark hair swept up in that sophisticated chignon she always wears.
But I'm not. Some part of me has known since Katya's warning at the wedding, since the sabotaged dress, since the hatred I saw flickering in her green eyes when she thought no one was watching.
Irina smiles when she sees I'm awake, and the expression is all teeth and malice. She moves closer with that predatory grace I've seen Roman use, and I realize with sickening clarity that she's learned from the best. She's been in this world long enough to adopt its mannerisms, its casual cruelty.
"Eva." Her voice is warm, almost friendly, like we're meeting for coffee instead of in an abandoned warehouse where I'm bound and helpless. "I'm so glad you're awake. I was worried Marcus used too much chloroform. That would have been unfortunate."
My throat is dry, my voice rough when I finally manage to speak. "Marcus works for you."
"Marcus works for Abram." Irina settles onto a crate near me, crossing her legs with casual elegance.
"But yes, I arranged for him to replace Viktor on your security detail.
It was surprisingly easy, actually. Roman's so distracted by you, by the baby, by playing house, that his usual vigilance has slipped. "
The words are designed to hurt, to make me feel responsible for my own kidnapping.
"Why?" The question tears from my throat. "Why are you doing this?"
Irina's laugh is bright and genuine, like I've told a hilarious joke.
"Oh, Eva. Sweet, naive Eva. You really don't understand how this world works, do you?
" She leans forward, her green eyes glittering with something that looks like excitement.
"Let me explain it to you. Consider it my villain monologue, like in those American movies you probably love. "
She stands and begins pacing, her heels clicking rhythmically against the concrete. The sound echoes through the empty warehouse, and I track her movement with my eyes, looking for any opportunity, any weakness I can exploit.
"I've been with Lev for five years," Irina begins, her voice taking on a storytelling quality. "Five years of watching Roman build his empire, of seeing the power and wealth that comes with being Pakhan. And I wanted it. God, I wanted it so badly, I could taste it."
She turns to face me, and the hunger in her expression makes my skin crawl.
"At first, I thought I could get it through Lev.
He's Roman's sovietnik, his right hand. If something happened to Roman, Lev would be the natural successor.
So I stayed with him, played the devoted girlfriend, waited for my opportunity. "
My mind races through implications. "You wanted Roman dead."
"Not dead, necessarily." Irina waves her hand dismissively. "Just removed. Discredited. Stripped of his position so Lev could step in. But Roman is frustratingly competent. He doesn't make mistakes. He doesn't show weakness. At least, he didn't until you came along."
The accusation in her tone makes my stomach clench. "I didn't do anything."
"You existed." Irina's voice hardens with resentment. "You walked into his office with your innocent brown eyes and your desperate need, and you made him soft. Made him care about something other than power and control. Do you know how dangerous that is for a Pakhan? How vulnerable it makes him?"
She moves closer, and I press back against the wall despite knowing there's nowhere to go. "I saw it happening. Watched Roman fall for you despite every logical reason he shouldn't. And I realized you were either my greatest obstacle or my greatest opportunity."
"So you sabotaged my wedding dress." The words come out flat, stating fact rather than asking.
"That was just the beginning." Irina's smile widens. "I needed to destabilize Roman, to make him look weak in front of the Moscow delegates. A Pakhan who can't even protect his bride at his own wedding? That's not a man fit to lead."
My hands clench behind my back, the zip ties cutting deeper into my wrists. "But it didn't work. The delegates still supported him."
"No, it didn't work." Frustration bleeds through Irina's controlled exterior. "Roman handled it too well. Turned potential humiliation into a display of protective strength. That's when I knew it was time for my backup plan."
She settles back onto the crate, and her expression shifts into something darker, more calculating. "That's why I started seeing Abram Yakovlev."
The name makes my blood run cold. Roman's enemy. The man who's been systematically destroying his empire, who sent gifts to Katya to prove he could reach her, who's been circling like a shark waiting for weakness.
"I needed to make sure I'd be in a position of power no matter what happened," Irina continues, her voice matter-of-fact, like she's discussing a business strategy rather than betrayal.
"If Lev became Pakhan, perfect. I'd be set for life.
But if Abram succeeded in taking Roman down, I needed to be on his good side too. "
My throat tightens with disgust. "So you seduced him."
"It was surprisingly easy." Irina examines her manicured nails with casual indifference.
"Abram is old-school Bratva. He appreciates a woman who knows how to play the game, who understands that loyalty is just another commodity to be traded.
I gave him information about Roman's operations, about his security protocols and about his weaknesses. "
"You're the mole." The realization crashes over me with sickening clarity. "You're the one feeding information to Abram, helping him destroy Roman from the inside."
"Guilty." Irina's smile is sharp, proud even. "I've been playing both sides for months. Sleeping with Lev while fucking Abram. Pretending to support Roman while undermining him at every turn. It's been exhausting, honestly, but necessary."
She stands and moves closer, and I see something shift in her expression.
Something that looks almost like pity. "I actually didn't hate you at first, Eva.
You were just a complication, an obstacle to remove.
We had plans to keep you alive, to use you as leverage against Roman after we stripped him of his position. "
My heart pounds against my ribs. "Had plans?"
"Until we found out you're pregnant." Irina's voice drops lower, becomes almost regretful.
"That changed everything. An heir complicates succession.
Even if we remove Roman, his child would have a claim to his territory, his power.
The other families would support the heir over a challenger like Abram. "
Terror floods my system, cold and absolute. My hand tries again to move to my stomach, to protect the life growing there, but the restraints hold firm. "No. Please."
"I'm sorry, Eva. I really am." Irina reaches into her designer purse, and when her hand emerges, she's holding a knife.
The blade catches the dim light filtering through the warehouse windows, and I see my death reflected in the steel.
"But we can't have Roman's heir interrupting our plans. You understand, don't you?"
She takes a step toward me, then another, the knife held with the confidence of someone who knows how to use it. My mind races through options, through possibilities, but I'm bound and helpless, and there's nowhere to run.
"Roman will kill you for this," I say, my voice steadier than I feel. "He'll tear this city apart. He'll destroy everyone involved."
"Maybe." Irina's smile doesn't waver. "But by then, it will be too late. You'll be gone. The baby will be gone. And Roman will be broken, which is exactly what we need."
She's close enough now that I can smell her expensive perfume, can see the cold calculation in her green eyes. The knife rises, and I think about Roman and the child we'll never get to raise together.
I think about how much I love him, and how I'll never get to tell him again.
The knife descends toward my stomach, and I close my eyes, bracing for the pain.