Dmitri
Chapter Twenty-Eight
“W hat do you mean, it just disappeared?” I cursed, snatching Stepan’s cell from his hand with a surge of frustration. “How could we have her location one second and it’s gone the next?”
Before I could even begin to formulate a plan to rescue Lara, the dot that marked her location on Stepan’s cell vanished into thin air, leaving only an empty map behind.
“Ivan must have found the tracker and gotten rid of it,” Stepan replied, his voice heavy with regret.
“Fuck.”
We had been so close to retrieving Lara, and now we were left with nothing but empty air and a gnawing sense of loss.
The thought that Ivan could have taken her anywhere, without a trace, was maddening.
In a fit of rage, I swept everything off my desk, sending papers and objects flying, scattering across the floor.
“Sir,” Yuri’s voice echoed from the other side of the open door, cutting through my fury like a lifeline. “The prisoner is secure.”
Andrei.
My uncle had attended that fundraiser for a purpose. He knew Andrei—there was no other way he could have been there without an invitation. Andrei was my only hope of finding Lara.
“Prisoner?” Angelo questioned, confusion and curiosity mingling in his tone.
“Andrei. I have him downstairs.” I moved swiftly, rounding my desk and heading out of my office with Angelo and Giovanni trailing closely behind, unable to resist the pull of unfolding events.
We walked past the cells and into the dimly lit torture room where Andrei sat bloodied and bruised, bound to a heavy metal chair anchored in the center of the room. The chair was strategically placed above a floor drain, a grim reminder of the ease of cleanup whenever blood was spilled.
“Andrei Zhukov,” I spat his name, the taste bitter on my tongue.
“Angelo, Giovanni. What is this about?” Andrei’s eyes flickered past me to the two men he had once trusted implicitly.
“You were like a brother to me and what do you do? You betrayed my trust by selling my daughter to Viktor Antonov.” Giovanni stepped forward, his voice a mixture of sorrow and anger, and to my surprise, he slapped Andrei across the face. “I made you her guardian. I trusted you with her life.”
“I couldn’t do it. Lidia and I were going to take Lara away, but then Ivan showed up,” Andrei’s voice cracked, his face contorted with anguish as he shook, the chair creaking under the weight of his grief.
“He killed my dear Lidia.” His eyes shimmered with unshed tears, the memory too agonizing to bear.
“Why did he kill Lidia?” I inched closer, a burning need to unravel the mystery of my uncle’s presence and actions consuming me.
“Because she was pregnant with his child. I refused to allow the child of a devil to live in our home,” Andrei confessed, each word dripping with regret.
His eyes were haunted, a deep well of sorrow reflecting the torment within.
“I gave her a choice. She terminated the pregnancy. Because of my selfishness, he killed her,” he admitted, the remorse in his eyes as palpable as the air around us.
“Why did you kill my father?” I demanded, my voice a barely contained snarl as I seized him by the shirt collar, my grip fierce and unyielding.
“I didn’t kill Victor. Ivan did,” Andrei’s voice quivered, a storm of emotions swirling in his eyes—anger, sorrow, and a deep-seated torment that gnawed at his very soul.
His head shook slowly, haunted by memories he could not escape.
“Ivan discovered that Victor was the mastermind behind the brutal raid on the day of your initiation into the Bratva. It was then he uncovered the chilling truth—that Victor was responsible for the deaths of your mother and Ana. Ana was Ivan’s beloved daughter.
Just as he violated my dear Lidia, Ivan had cruelly violated your mother.
His twisted obsession with securing an heir to seize control of the Bratva drove him to unimaginable acts,” Andrei revealed, his words heavy with the weight of a dark past.
“You’re lying,” I spat, my grip on Andrei’s shirt tightening, my knuckles white with the force of my anger.
“My cell. It is on my cell,” he gasped, his voice strained as I continued to constrict his airway.
Stepan, who had been standing silently nearby, brought over the items he had taken from Andrei before restraining him to the chair.
He handed me the cell, its surface cool and unyielding.
I swiped the screen, but it remained locked, protected by Andrei’s fingerprint.
I stepped up to Andrei, his eyes pleading with me as I placed his thumb on the sensor, the tension in the room thick enough to cut with a knife.
As I sifted through his saved photos and scrolled through the messages, everything about him seemed to paint the picture of a perfect man. But I knew the truth. Eventually, I found the evidence I was searching for and let the recording play, allowing the voices from the past to fill the room.
“I’m not going to kill you, Andrei, but only because I may need you later,” my uncle’s voice echoed with a chilling calmness as I listened intently.
“Thank you, Ivan. Your secret is safe with me. I won’t tell anyone that you killed Viktor,” Andrei stammered, his words laced with palpable fear.
BANG!
The sudden crack of a gunshot shattered the tense silence.
“Fuck! Why did you shoot me?” Andrei’s voice was a mixture of agony and disbelief.
“Think of it as a reminder. If you ever double-cross me, I will kill you.” Ivan’s cold, menacing tone sent a shiver down my spine.
I ended the recording and tossed Andrei’s cell phone onto the cold metal table with a clatter. All this time, I had believed Andrei was the one who had killed my father, but the grim truth was that it had been Ivan.
I walked up to Andrei, looking down at him with a mix of anger and desperation. “How did Ivan get into the fundraiser?”
“Through me,” he admitted, his voice heavy with regret.
“He said if I gave him access to Lara, he would ensure I stayed under the radar. He promised he would no longer demand payment to keep my secret. I wanted to end his life and his threats once and for all. He knew Lara would be there. I was too late.”
Ivan had been blackmailing Andrei, holding him under his thumb all this time.
“Do you know where Ivan might have taken Lara?” I asked, even though fury boiled within me for him allowing that psychopath near Lara. Despite everything, Andrei was my only hope of finding her. I prayed he loved her enough to risk his own life to save her.
“I think I might,” he replied with a hint of hope. “Now, can you please release me?”
~***~
I couldn’t believe my worst enemies were sitting in my study, plotting a strategy to save the woman I loved. I loved her . Lara was my heart, my soul. I truly loved her with every fiber of my being.
It turned out that Andrei knew Ivan’s mansion better than anyone else.
If Ivan held Lara captive, Andrei was certain he would have her locked away in one of the impenetrable rooms beneath the sprawling estate.
Listening to Andrei recount the horrors my uncle had committed over the years—the countless women he had violated and tortured in his twisted quest to produce an heir—chilled me to the bone.
And now, he intended to subject Lara to the same fate.
I had always puzzled over why Ivan never attended the inauguration. Now the truth was clear as day: my father despised him, and my mother lived in fear of him.
The four of us—along with Stepan, Yuri, Boris, and a dozen of my most trusted men—left the safety of the mansion. Our destination was Ivan’s fortress, hidden away in the rugged, untamed terrain of the Catskill Mountains.
Our convoy consisted of four bulletproof black SUVs, each brimming with skilled operatives and formidable firepower, advancing steadily toward the gates that safeguarded his mansion.
Stepan’s keen eyes scanned the surrounding area, spotting two guards stationed at the entrance—an obstacle that needed swift elimination. No problem for us.
As I surveyed the scene, a sense of calm washed over me, knowing the Red Knights were by my side.
I had to involve them, yet I couldn’t afford the risk of their exposure.
Even with the combined expertise in shooting and knife combat that Stepan and I possessed, I wasn’t willing to gamble with the slightest chance of failure.
I assured them they would remain unseen until their intervention was utterly essential.
In a seamless, coordinated maneuver, before the guards could even register our presence, Stepan delivered a precise suppressor shot to the head of the guard on the left.
Simultaneously, I mirrored his action, taking out the guard on the right.
Both fell to the ground with the grace of toppled dominoes, collapsing one after the other.
I scaled the wrought iron gate, its cold metal biting into my palms, and shoved the dead guards’ lifeless bodies aside, clearing the doorway to the dimly lit security booth. With a swift motion, I pushed open the gate, its hinges creaking ominously in the still night air.
We spread out like shadows across the grounds, each of us targeting any remaining guards—three stationed on the upper balcony and six patrolling the manicured lawn below.
We swiftly killed them, their bodies falling silently, while back at my mansion, Gisela busily looped Ivan’s security cameras, her fingers dancing over the keyboard with practiced precision.