Chapter 10
Ivan
The fire marshal lingers longer than I had anticipated. I had planned on avoiding any interaction with the officials, blending seamlessly into the chaos that enveloped the scene. However, it quickly becomes apparent that their primary objective is locating the owners of the house.
I weigh my options. I could stay here, hidden all day, and they may not leave. If I want to find Vivi and Nikolai, I need to move.
Reluctantly, I step forward, feeling the weight of the moment settle heavily on my shoulders.
"Mr. Romanov?" the fire marshal inquires as I walk toward him, his voice carrying an authoritative edge as he holds a clipboard firmly in his hand. His gaze scans me from head to toe, and his eyes widen.
Blood is splattered across my shirt. "Yes, that's me," I respond, striving to keep my voice steady and devoid of the turmoil brewing inside me.
He nods and tightens his hold on the clipboard. When he speaks, his voice is low and has lost all the authority it carried only moments ago. "The fire seems suspicious," he states, his tone grave and laden with unspoken conclusions.
I nod, already acutely aware of the nature of the blaze. Suspicious was an understatement. "What makes you say that?" I ask, trying to mask my inner anxiety with a veneer of calm curiosity.
"There were multiple ignition points," he explains, flipping through his detailed notes with a furrowed brow. "And we've removed a number of bodies from the house, both male and female. The coroner will be keeping them until they can be identified."
Each word he speaks feels like a blow, the reality of the situation sinking deeper. The mention of the bodies, both male and female, sends my stomach churning.
Bodies. How many lives were snuffed out in those flames? "Do you have any idea who they might be?" I ask.
The fire marshal looks at me, his expression grim. "To be honest, some of them are in really bad shape, Mr. Romanov. I would warn any family members that want to make a claim."
I swallow hard. Most of the people under my employment didn’t have families to claim their bodies. The nature of the business attracted lost souls, people looking for someone to be in charge of their lives.
And Vivi…
The thought of what may have happened to her makes it difficult to steady the rage boiling inside me. I clench my fists, trying to maintain my composure. I can't afford to lose it now.
After the fire marshal leaves, the firefighters pack up their equipment, and the coroner takes away the last body, I'm left staring at the husk of what used to be the castle for my kingdom. So many years of careful planning, of hiring contractors and replanning, of making sure everything was perfect. Gone in hours.
Along with Vivi.
I walk closer to the charred remains, the smell of smoke still thick in the air.
I try calling Nikolai again, the phone pressed tightly to my ear. It rings several times before going to voicemail. No voice, just an automated message with the phone number. I hope this is a good sign that Nikolai got out and his phone is still on. But why isn’t he picking up? My mind races with possibilities, none of them comforting.
I step through the front door, which hangs precariously on one hinge, a casualty of the firefighters forcing it open. The destruction is worse than I imagined. I walk to the left, where the sitting room and Angel’s cage used to be. The room is completely destroyed. The golden bars of the cage are blackened, and part of the ceiling has collapsed into a pile inside it.
Images batter me: Angel inside that cage, trying desperately to get out. His death was, without doubt, gruesome. Painful.
He looked just like his sister. Same eyes. Same hair.
God, I can’t bear it.
Lifting my hand, I swipe it through my hair, the gesture restless, agitated.
An unsettling energy courses through my body, the need to do something, to make a decision. For the first time in my life, I don’t know what to do. Vivi is gone. Maybe. Probably.
No, that can’t be the case. I waited years to have her. I’m not going to lose her like this.
I go back outside, not trusting the integrity of the building enough to continue inside. I circle the house, my mind racing. In the back are the old stables, which I had converted into a garage for my collection of cars. Miraculously, the building remains pristine.
Azrael didn’t care about taking my cars from me; they were after everything else.
I push open the garage door and flick on the lights. Two rows of expensive vehicles greet me, their polished surfaces reflecting the harsh overhead lights. It's a stark contrast to the devastation outside.
My gaze sweeps over the cars, and for a moment, I allow myself to think of escape—a way to regroup and plan my next move. I need to find Nikolai. I need to find out who did this. And I need to make them pay.
The hum of the garage lights is the only sound, a reminder of the normalcy that once was. I take a deep breath, trying to calm the storm inside me. I need to stay focused.
I put in the code for the office where all the keys are kept. The keypad beeps, and the door clicks open. My fingers run along the keys hanging on the wall, each one representing a different kind of escape. I select the one for a simple Toyota Corolla. A common car that won't catch anyone's attention.
I walk through the garage, still trying to figure out exactly where I’m going to go in that unremarkable car. The luxurious vehicles almost purr at me seductively, their sleek designs promising speed and power. But I’m a man on a mission, even if I haven’t quite made a plan yet.
I reach the silver Corolla and am about to unlock it when I catch movement from the corner of my eye. Lightning fast, I draw my pistol and point it in the direction of the movement.
I lose my ability to breathe for a moment, shock rendering me paralyzed.
Angel Valachi is leaning against the passenger door of a McLaren Speedtail. He's in bad shape. His clothes are covered in soot, and one of his arms is badly burned, the fabric of his shirt gone, and the tender, damaged flesh exposed. Despite his vulnerable position and what must be a lot of pain, Angel is smirking at me.
"You look like shit, Romanov," Angel says, his voice surprisingly steady.
"You’re no better," I reply, keeping my pistol trained on him. "How did you survive?"
Angel shrugs, wincing slightly as he moves. "You had poor contractors. Remember, you made me watch them build the cage."
"That’s a lie. You would have escaped long ago if that were the case," I counter, narrowing my eyes.
"Kicking the bars away from their bases is noisy," Angel explains, looking down at his arm. "I needed a distraction, like a fire. Azrael did me a favor." A wry smile plays on his lips. "Well, almost," he adds.
Of course, Angel Valachi survived. If any man could survive an attack like that from Azrael, it would be this bastard—the man who couldn’t be broken, even by me, Ivan Romanov.
Fucking cockroach.
Angel shifts his stance. When he speaks, his voice is barely above a whisper, yet each word hits me like a hammer. "She’s alive, by the way."
"What?" I walk closer to him.
"My sister. Vivi. She got out."
Relief sweeps over me, intoxicating and overpowering. It penetrates through my grief and shock, reigniting the fire within me. Vivi is alive. My mind races with possibilities, with hope.
"Azrael took her?" I ask, needing to know every detail.
Angel shakes his head, wincing at the movement. "Azrael knew you built a fortress; none of them came inside the house. It was your man, Nikolai."
Nikolai. The one who isn't answering his phone. My heart sinks, suspicion and betrayal clawing at my insides.
Angel struggles to get to his feet, using the car for support. I make no effort to help him, my mind a whirlwind of thoughts. "If you are unaware of her survival," Angel continues, his voice strained, "then you have lost Nikolai." Without realizing it, he echoes my suspicions.
"He wouldn’t dare," I mutter, more to myself than to Angel. Nikolai, my trusted lieutenant, betraying me? The very thought is unthinkable. But the evidence is there, staring me in the face.
If he had escaped with Vivi, he would have called and told me, or at least answered his phone. Fuck . Angel is right, but I can’t let that show. “He wouldn’t dare betray me,” I say, but my words don’t carry the same level of surety.
"He has," Angel says, his smirk widening despite the pain etched on his face. "We’ve been playing his game a long time, Romanov. Think of what you would do in his position. You’re expected to be dead. Azrael has burned down your house in an attempt to kill your hostage. He has the daughter of Lorenzo Valachi."
My mind races, piecing together the puzzle. "He’s going to use her to bargain with the others."
"Exactly," Angel confirms. "He’s probably arranging a deal with the others right now, offering himself as their new friend and the new head of the Romanov empire."
The rage that had momentarily subsided flares back up. "I’ll kill him," I vow, my voice a low growl.
"You’ll have to find him first," Angel points out. “And my sister. There was something…” He shakes his head, his gaze distant. “I don’t trust him with her,” he finishes. “But I can help you, my friend.”
New York City is too big for a random sweep. There are a number of safehouses under our ownership, and a condition of employment with me is that I’m made aware of all the employees' assets. That’s a lot of ground to cover. Angel's smile tells me he knows exactly where my mind is going.
"We are not friends," I stated coldly.
"Come on, nothing forms a bond like a rescue mission," Angel replies, a glimmer of amusement in his eyes.
"I’m not joking, Valachi. If you slow me down, I will get rid of you.”
"Relax," Angel says, raising his hands slightly in a mock gesture of surrender. "According to the world, I’m already a dead man. You’re the only one who knows I’m alive."
"I’m only doing this for your sister’s sake," I say, my tone icy as I lower my pistol.
"I know," Angel responds, his expression serious for once. "That is exactly why I am helping you."
I reach the Corolla and open the driver’s side door. Angel appears at the passenger side, and I shake my head.
“You are driving.” I keep the door open for him. With his injured arm, this won’t be easy, but he’s tough. He’ll survive, and if he makes one wrong move, I’ll empty my gun into the back of his head.
Angel smirks and walks around to me; I release my hold on the door and let him take the wheel. “I mean, you could have picked something better than this piece of shit.”
“I could have done a lot of things,” I answer, my mind already wandering to Vivi. She’s alive. Nikolai’s betrayal cuts deep, but I can’t afford to dwell on it now. I need to stay sharp, focused. Angel starts the car, and we begin moving.
"First things first," I say, my voice steady. "We need to narrow down the possible locations. Nikolai will be somewhere he feels secure, but also somewhere he can easily negotiate from."
Angel nods, thinking. "There are a few places that come to mind. We should start with the ones that offer the best strategic advantage."
"Agreed," I reply. “Near the docks, there’s a small shop. It’s a front for us.”
“The name of this shop?” Angel asks.
I don’t give it to him. “Take a left up here.” I’ll direct him the entire way so he doesn’t make one wrong move.
As we drive through the city, the streets are bustling with life, completely oblivious to the war brewing in the shadows. I glance at Angel, who’s silent, lost in his own thoughts. Despite our differences, we’re united by a common goal: to save Vivi and bring down Nikolai.
Every safehouse, every hideout, every lead will be pursued relentlessly. I will find her. And when I do, Nikolai will pay for his betrayal. The game has changed, but I am still a player. And I will not lose.
Not this time.