Chapter 43
Katerina
The dentist’s office door swings shut behind me as I walk down the street towards the parking lot.
Nik brought me to my semiannual cleaning.
It’s been a long time since I’ve left the compound, so I’m not used to walking around, which is why I’m not alert when a black car with tinted windows pulls up in front of me.
Not until the doors open, and armed men flood out.
They move synchronously as they ambush me.
One grabs me from behind. As I try to escape his grasp, another grabs my legs.
Despite my struggle, they’re able to throw me into the backseat of the car and slam the door shut.
I lunge for the door, but the child lock is on.
“Quit your dramatics, Katya. This is not how I raised you to act,” an all too familiar voice says.
Chills run down my spine. My head whips to the person on the other side of the backseat until I’m facing Viktor.
I fight the urge to launch myself at him.
Even though I don’t have any of my weapons on me, I know I could land a few strikes.
But attacking him won’t do me any good with his guards surrounding us.
“What do you want?” I grit out. I’m done pretending for him. I’m not the Bratva princess he gave to Dominic. I have become a strong woman capable of defending herself.
“I want your cooperation, damn it! You haven’t responded to any of my calls or messages. Tell me what you’ve discovered!” Viktor doesn’t even pretend to be composed. But his fury doesn’t deter me.
“No.”
Even the narrowing of his eyes, a clear indicator of abuse to come, doesn’t compel me to comply. I won’t betray my husband. I won’t betray my Syndicate.
“Oh, so you think you’re special. You think he cares for you.” He throws back his head and lets out a bone chilling cackle. “Na?ve girl. All your worth is your cunt. And even that’s replaceable.”
“Maybe to you, but not to Dominic!” My fists clench at my side. Unlike Dominic, if I hit him, he’ll hit me back. But it would be worth it.
“Bullshit. What could he possibly have done to convince you of that?” His disbelief is written all over his face. He thinks I’m so na?ve that I’d believe anything. But he’s wrong.
“He inducted me into the Syndicate!” As soon as the words leave my mouth, I know they’re a mistake. Him possessing that knowledge can only mean trouble.
“Ah, so you have been following my mission. And here I thought you were useless.” He’s testing me with his words. He doesn’t expect me to deny them; the Bratva Princess never would’ve. But I’m not her anymore.
“No, I won’t do your bidding. I’m not your little doll that you control anymore. I’m the Syndicate Queen.” Words that sounded so fierce in my head fall flat.
Viktor laughs darkly, actually taking amusement in them.
“‘The Syndicate Queen!’” He cackles, mocking me. “You stupid whore. You were barely able to be the Bratva Princess, and all that demanded was being pretty and silent.”
“You don’t know who I’ve become! I’m capable of leading by his side!” I all but shout the words at him. I’m losing control, grasping at straws. This isn’t how I foresaw our confrontation going.
“You think he could ever trust my progeny? You’ll never be anything but Bratva in his eyes.” There’s curiosity in his, and I can’t tell if he’s confident in his words.
“He doesn’t see me that way. He knows I was never involved with your little organization. That’s why he trusts me enough to be in the Syndicate.” The words are closer to a plea than a statement.
“You truly believe when he finds out you were sent to betray him, he’ll understand? That he’ll forgive you?”
A pit forms in my stomach.
“He’s never going to know. I never did anything to betray him. And I never will.” But despite my best efforts, his words fill me with self-doubt.
“He’ll throw you on the streets, and you’ll come crying home to me. If that’s the choice you make, instead of coming home a valued member of the family, you’ll be a reject. A disappointment. Even Sergey will frown upon you.”
“I would never come crawling home to you, pidor!” I spit in his face to jab the ultimate disrespect.
I feel the sting of my cheek before I even register the hit. I should’ve seen it coming, but in my rage, I wasn’t paying attention.
I lunge forward, punching him in the nose, reveling in the sound of it crunching beneath my hand.
He pushes me off him and returns a punch, which I block.
His next one lands on my nose. My hands wrap around his neck in a vise grip.
Rage fuels me. Which keeps me blind to the hit to my side.
The wind is ripped out of me, and I’m left gasping for air.
Viktor shouts to his men, and the car jerks to a stop. The backseat door is jerked open, hands grab me, and I’m thrown from the car.
“When you’re ready to come home, you better have valuable information, or your life will be hell. You’ll be begging for Sergey when I’m through with you.” Viktor’s words are the last I hear before the door closes, and the car speeds away.
They dispose of me in the parking lot, so I hobble to Nik’s car. The gasp he lets out at the sight of me is all the indicator I need of how fucked I am. There’s no chance I can hide this from Dominic.
“Fuck, Katya! What the hell happened?” Nik surveys the lot, looking for the threat. His gun is unsheathed, ready to make someone pay.
“Viktor happened,” I confess glumly. I’m ashamed I let him even get one hit on me, much less two.
“Where is he?” Nik’s voice is merely a growl, but I can’t let him out of the car.
“Just drive us home. I’ll tell you later,” I mutter before closing my eyes.
Five minutes pass of him barraging me with questions before he finally resigns to my silence. My shame won’t let me open up to him.
I check my reflection in the overhead mirror and note that my nose is bleeding, and my eyes are forming black circles under them. I lift the hem of my shirt to reveal a giant green and yellow bruise forming. Fuck. There’s truly no way I can hide this from Dominic.
When we get home, I sneak inside. I make it halfway to my old room when I hear my husband approaching. The familiar pattern of his footsteps taunts me as I pick up my pace.
“Where are you going, tiger?” His jovial voice causes me to flinch. I know the moment I turn around, that cheery demeanor will vanish.
“I’m going to my room. I need some alone time.” My even voice doesn’t betray my lie.
“That’s not your room,” he growls from right over my shoulder.
He wraps his arms around my middle and lifts me in the air. The howl of pain I let out causes him to halt. He tenses and gently places me on the ground.
“Katerina, what’s wrong–” His words transform into a snarl when he turns me around.
“It looks worse than it is.” I try to alleviate his worries, but my words only seem to anger him more.
“Who did this to you?” His voice is so dark and low that it sends shivers down my spine.
To anyone else, it’d be terrifying. But to me, his wife, it’s almost arousing. Because his anger is in defense of me.
“Katerina, who touched you. Who hurt you.” His words aren’t a question, they’re a demand. He needs answers. He needs to make them pay. But unfortunately, he can’t touch my assailant.
“Don’t worry about it, darling. You should see the other guy.” I aim for teasing, but it comes out rough.
“I don’t give a damn about the condition of the other guy. His life is coming to an end.” His eyes are fully black now as his fists clench at his side. He’s bloodthirsty to avenge me.
“You can’t kill him.” I press a hand to his chest, trying to calm him. He immediately wraps my hand in his large one and forces it closer to him.
“There’s not a single force on this earth that could stop me from killing the person who hurt my wife.” He tilts my face into the light as he inspects my injuries. His gentle touches contrast with his furious words. He’s my personal angel of death.
He carefully lifts my shirt up to inspect my midsection where he touched earlier. When he sees the bruise, he lets out a sound of anguish doused with fury.
“You can’t kill Viktor Sokolov.” My teeth grit together as I tell him.
His head snaps up in shock at my words. His mouth opens then shuts, before his eyes narrow, and he composes himself.
“Your father did this to you?” His words are calm, as though we’re speaking of the weather. It’s the calm hiding the hurricane of wrath within him.
“He stopped being my father a long time ago.” I need him to know that. I need him to know that I don’t relate to Viktor. That I don’t claim him.
“Because of this? He’s done this before?” That same even tone is used as he inspects my wounds. But the tremble of his hands betrays his facade.
“Yes,” I murmur, transfixed by him. My husband cares for me. I know he does. Viktor is wrong.
“When did it start?” I hiss when he lightly touches my nose, and he quickly jerks his fingers back.
“After Мама died. I was seven.” For the first time ever, I’m allowed to feel the pain and hurt. I’m allowing myself to feel what he’s done to me. My own father.
A small tear trickles down my cheek, but before I can wipe it away, I’m crushed against my husband’s large chest. One hand holds my head against his shoulder, while the other rubs my back.
He’s not gentle with his comfort, despite his best efforts, but it’s what I need.
I need his overbearing aggressive reassurance.
“I’m so fucking sorry, Katerina. That fucker doesn’t deserve to even be on the same planet as you.
He will never touch you again. No one will.
I swear on my life.” The confidence in his promise fills me with relief.
Despite the reality of the situation, I believe him. He won’t ever let me get hurt again.
After a few minutes, he calls the Syndicate doctor to come check on me. I assure him I’m fine, but he won’t be dissuaded. When the doctor confirms a broken nose and rib, Dominic curses and paces furiously.
We have a calm evening, then head to bed. Despite my attempt, there’s no fun time. I know he’s scared of hurting me. When I assure him that I’ve been in worse pain before, it sets him off again, and he leaves to calm down. Eventually he returns and holds me until I fall asleep.