Chapter 29
ANYA
The pounding on the door yanks me from sleep. My pulse races. Semyon’s already out of bed, padding to the door in his boxers.
Bang, bang, bang.
“What the fuck?” He yanks the door open to find Matvei standing on the other side. I can tell by the way his huge shadow fills the doorway. I pull the blanket up over my shoulders.
“Eli’s up, and he’s throwing a fucking fit down there, wanting to see you.”
Semyon nods. “Thanks. On my way.”
He shuts the door and turns to me. “I want you to stay here while I talk to your brother.”
Right. I toss off the covers and give him a withering look. “Just because you made me come last night, and I was a blathering mess and all, doesn’t mean you get to keep me in the dark, Semyon. I haven’t done anything to deserve this.”
I feel a little guilty because the truth is I have. Still, I haven’t betrayed him the way he thinks I have. Not even close. I’m going to find a way around the Irish, no matter what it takes.
My phone buzzes with a text.
I ignore it. I could still be asleep. There’s no way they have cameras here, right? I have the distinct feeling it’s secure as hell here.
What the hell am I going to do?
Semyon walks to get his glasses. “Fair,” he finally admits. “Alright, you can come, but I’m the one who leads this, Anya.”
I roll my eyes but don’t let him see. Whatever. If it makes him feel better.
Semyon’s already moving, grabbing his pants, his expression hard. The room’s a disaster—our clothes tangled on the floor, the sheets rumpled from our bodies, the air still thick with the scent of sweat and sex. But none of it matters now.
I yank on crumpled yoga pants and a tee—his, I think, tripping over my own feet in my haste to get out the door. He grabs my elbow to steady me.
I raise an eyebrow when he pulls out a gun, loads it, and slides it into his pocket.
“You need your gun? To talk to my brother?”
“We’re at war, Anya.” The atmosphere in the room feels heavy, oppressive .
War.
We’re at war, and where does that put me?
I’ve never seen so many armed guards in my life. They’re stationed in every doorway, cluttering the halls. Upstairs, he said we were at war. Now I feel like we’re in a war zone.
“Where is he?” Semyon snaps into the phone before he curses and hangs it up. He takes me by the hand, dragging me down a hallway, around a bend, up a flight of stairs, then down another hall. This house is a huge, veritable maze, and I’m not sure if I had to navigate it on my own that I’d ever get out.
Finally, we come to the end of a hall where six armed men stand, their expressions grim. On the other side of the door, Eli screams, his voice ragged and hoarse, desperate. I stiffen. I’m not sure I’m ready for this.
“Move.” The men scatter like ants at Semyon’s word.
I draw in a deep breath. His hand is on the doorknob before he turns to look at me.
“He’s going to be pissed. I have to interrogate him, Anya. I’ll let you see him, but if it isn’t safe, I’m pulling you out. And you will not be in the room when I question him. Agreed?”
I nod, my mouth dry.
He shakes his head. “You’d never let me touch you again,” he mutters before he opens the door. We step in, and Semyon slams the door shut behind him.
I expect to see my brother tied to a bed, but someone’s taken mercy on him. He’s not bound but pacing the room. His face is gaunt, his eyes burning. His clothes hang loose, too loose, his wrists marked from where he was bound. From where I am, I can see angry red peeking out under his collar.
What did they do to him?
The second he sees Semyon, Eli lunges.
“You fucking took my sister?” His voice is raw, a growl breaking past his lips as he slams into Semyon, driving him back. “You hurt her? They took me, and the first fucking thing you did was move in and steal her?”
His fists fly, unhinged, like an animal backed into a corner on the attack. He swings wild, fueled by fury, and for a second, Semyon lets him. Semyon, the cold strategist, the man who never relinquishes control to anyone, is letting himself be beaten… for me. To give Eli the closure he needs. As if he deserves this for taking his best friend’s sister.
“Eli!” I scream. “No! It isn’t like that!”
A punch lands hard against Semyon’s jaw. His head snaps to the side, but he doesn’t move.
“Eli! Stop!” My voice cracks. I grab for his arm, but he’s already swinging again.
Semyon moves, grabbing Eli’s wrist effortlessly. His expression is calm, but I know that cold look in his eyes. I want to pull them apart, to make them stop, but I can’t. Semyon shoves Eli back, sending him crashing into a dresser.
Eli comes up swinging, launching himself at Semyon, his fists flying. A roar tears through the room. I scream as they slam into the wall, grappling, their bodies colliding. A framed print crashes to the floor from the wall, glass shattering. On the other side of the door, fists pound, yelling. Now I know why Semyon shut that door.
Eli swings again but misses, his aim off. Semyon lands a brutal punch to Eli’s stomach, but Eli recovers fast. He rams his shoulder into Semyon, and they both tumble to the ground, fists flying. They grunt and curse, rolling while they beat each other. Blood splatters on the floor.
I hate this. My heart is in my throat seeing the two men I love beat each other like this. “Stop it! You’re going to kill each other!” I scream.
Neither of them listens.
Eli is smaller and weaker after captivity, but he fights as if he’s got nothing left to lose.
And maybe he doesn’t. Maybe he fucking doesn’t. I swipe at the hot, fat tears that roll down my cheeks.
For once, Semyon isn’t in control… isn’t calculated. This is personal.
They crash into a nightstand, sending a lamp shattering to the floor. They hit each other again and again. They’re going to kill each other. They snarl and curse, fighting dirty, fighting mean. I’ve never seen them fight like this, and something tells me this one isn’t going to end.
I look wildly around the room for something to use to stop them when they roll right at my feet. I see Semyon’s gun.
I reach for it, cock it, aim for the ceiling, and pull the trigger. Chunks of plaster fall to my feet, dust and debris making me blink and cough. Semyon and Eli stop. Semyon’s instantly on his feet, running to me. His hand shakes as he cups my face, fear in his normally placid gaze. “Are you alright?”
“I’m fine,” I whisper, choked up at the obvious concern in his eyes.
Eli watches him, wide-eyed.
Semyon’s eye’s swollen shut, he has a bloody lip, and his wound is bleeding. He lost his glasses somewhere in the mix. He looks younger without them.
Both of them are panting, bloody.
“I’m fine. You fucking idiots!” My hands are planted on my hips. “You couldn’t talk like sensible adults?”
Semyon’s heaving air, wiping at his split lip. “You done?”
Eli breathes hard on his back, staring at the ceiling. His eyes land on Semyon’s shoulder, where blood seeps through the fabric. “Jesus. What’d I do to your shoulder?”
“Oh, just opened up a gunshot wound ,” I snap.
Semyon shakes his head and rolls his shoulders as if it’s nothing. “I’m fine.”
“My god. ” I shake my head, my nerves completely shot. “Seriously. You two could’ve killed each other like absolute imbeciles.”
Eli’s eyes meet mine, narrowed and angry. “Did he hurt you?” He looks back at Semyon, his anger rising again. “That’s my fucking sister, you douchebag.”
“I’m well aware,” Semyon says smoothly. “And, of course, I wouldn’t hurt her. ”
Semyon scoffs, but I can see the tension in his muscles. He lied. He’s definitely in pain.
Eli pushes himself up to an elbow. “Why Anya? Of all people, Semyon, my sister. ”
Semyon’s eyes flash at him. “Because there are no other women for me, Eli, and there never was.”
I stare at Semyon as the truth crashes in on me.
He was waiting for me.
He’s planned every move in life just like he plans his moves on a chessboard. He waited until I was grown up—until I needed him—and he had a way to bargain for me.
At another time and place, I’d have been horrified. But now… but now I see the truth.
Semyon Kopolov… loves me.
Eli flinches. I see it, the moment reality sinks in. The bruises, the hollowed cheeks. The way his hands tremble. He’s paid the piper too.
I drop to one knee in front of him. “Eli.” My lower lip trembles. He reaches for my hand and gives it a gentle squeeze.
“I’m sorry, Anya,” he says, shaking his head. “I’m sorry I couldn’t stop it, I didn’t want you mixed up in all this.”
I give him a sad smile. “I know, but it’s too late for that. I thought you left.”
He scoffs. “Left? I might’ve made some bad decisions, but do you really think I’d leave you and Stefan alone like that?”
Yeah. Yeah, I really did think that .
“Maybe I did.”
Eli shakes his head. “I deserve that. I fucked up. Still, you should’ve run, Anya. Jesus, woman. Instead, you married him. ”
And for some reason I can’t explain, I feel like defending Semyon. “It’s not like I married the devil incarnate.”
Semyon quirks a brow. “Thanks?”
Eli lets out a ragged breath and drags himself to sitting, leaning against the wall for support.
“You’re welcome, by the way,” he says dryly to Eli. “And you and I aren’t done here.”
Eli holds his hands, palms up. “I won’t fight you anymore.” His gaze flicks over Semyon’s wounded shoulder. “And you’re bleeding through your stitches, dumbass.”
Semyon shakes his head. “It’s nothing.”
“Yeah, yeah, you fucking Bratva hardass.”
A beat of silence stretches. They haven’t forgiven each other, but are we getting closer to an understanding?
“Are you two done beating the shit out of each other or what?” I ask sternly, hands planted on my hips.
“I’m done,” Semyon says wryly. “For now. Depends on what I find out when I ask some questions whether or not I continue the well-deserved ass beating.”
Eli shakes his head. “Keep telling yourself that.”
Semyon only frowns at him. “You gonna tell me who the fuck had you? ”
“As if you need any confirmation.”
Semyon’s body goes rigid. “I knew it. The fucking Irish.” He shakes his head. “Makes no sense why they’d just bring you back, though, unless they had something to gain by it.”
Eli frowns. “They want to dismantle your entire operation from the inside out. They took me because I owed them money, but somebody paid them off.”
Semyon frowns. “Did they?”
“Yeah. No clue who.”
“Still doesn’t make sense that they just let you go.”
“So yeah, can we figure this all out later, you guys? I think it would be really smart right now if you weren’t bleeding out on the floor when you have these discussions?”
Semyon rises to his feet, towering over Eli. “I told you, Anya. We aren’t done here.” He nods to the door. “Go. I’ll come see you after Eli and I talk.”
I open my mouth to protest, but his expression brooks no argument. “ Go .”
Eli pales and swallows hard. “Anya?”
I turn to look at him.
Eli gives me a curious look before he huffs out a laugh. “Wait.” He looks to Semyon. “Remember when we used to play chess? And you’d try to talk to me through the moves?”
What the hell is he talking about, and why does that have anything to do with us now?
“Yeah,” Semyon says with a nod. “I remember it well. ”
Eli smiles. “And no one would ever know we had a secret language, did they?”
“Nope.”
His eyes swing to mine, and he gives me a knowing look. “It was convenient,” he says, talking to Semyon and meeting my gaze. “A good way to talk to each other in secret.”
Semyon shakes his head. “Strange time to remember that, but alright.”
No. No, it isn’t a strange time at all. It’s an excellent time.
My god.
Eli, you’re a genius.