Chapter 16
Sixteen
Rowan
Bullets spray the wall above my head.
Taking control over the darkness pouring through my soul is nearly impossible. So I stop fighting it. I push Cora behind me and force her to the floor when she wants to pop her head over the edge of a table.
“Woman, keep your head down. Don’t ever do that again. Stay here. Promise me.”
I expect to see fear in her expressions, but when my gaze locks with hers all I see is trust.
“Yeah, got it. Please don’t get killed but let them eat lead.” She kisses me and then tucks herself out of sight.
A second sheet of bullets takes out the window behind Rafael's head and glass cascades across the marble in a glittering wave.
I’ve spent years burying my darker side. Letting my brothers handle the bloody side of our business.
Dark cravings for murder and bloodshed prickle over my senses.
That ends here.
I take in my surroundings. There are six shooters. Two on the stairwell, four fanning from the elevator bank in a loose V with weapons trained on the center of the lobby. Nikolai stands behind the formation with his arms crossed, watching his choreography unfold with a sadistic smile on his face.
Our security teams sit thirty floors below us. Response time runs roughly forty-five seconds, which means the first half-minute belongs to the men with the guns.
That can’t happen. Not with my Cora here.
Thirty seconds is a long time when bullets are chewing through walls like paper.
Drake and Kon surge forward.
“Do you remember what I told you the last time I saw you?” I ask. “Tell me, do you remember?”
My son wants to taunt me but I ignore his words as he calls out.
“Load me up.” I hold my hands out and Drake tosses one of his weapons from his shoulder holster my way.
We hang low as we move swiftly into a protective position.
We both flip a table, using it as a shield in time to catch a wild arc of bullets.
Metal pelts the solid mahogany, keeping the blood in our veins for a while longer.
I signal for Massimo and Cristian to break off and secure the rest of the location. Massimo fights my decision with a stone-cold look but ultimately peels off and circles behind Nikolai, heading for the stairwell. The last thing we need is to have more men entering this small space.
Luca cuts left along the perimeter, fast and silent, closing the distance to the stairwell shooters. Rafael catches my eye and signals that one of the shooters has popped his last clip.
“Answer me you sorry piece of shit. Tell me! do you remember?”
I again hold my tongue when my son taunts me. Bitterness, rage and madness drive the man. Talking with him now is a waste of energy.
I catch Rafael’s attention and jerk my chin toward the incoming shooters working for my son. They think they have the upper hand here and I’m going to love proving to them how wrong they are.
The next five seconds slow as Rafael raises his weapon and pulls the trigger.
I’m to the right of him. My finger is already on the trigger. I pull at the same time he does. Dual muzzle flashes and the scent of blood hit my senses simultaneously.
Two bodies drop, making it four left to go.
“Everyone listen up. My son is for me to handle.”
Rafael looks at me as does Soren and Luca.
I get stiff nods from everyone who can hear me.
Rafael steps behind the opposite pillar from me. Marble chips fly everywhere. He doesn’t flinch when bullets whizz by his head as he takes out his phone, coordinating the response from security while keeping a clear line to the east corridor.
All the while those mother fuckers haven’t laid off the triggers.
Soren grabs Raine by the arm and hauls her behind the reception desk. She fights him for a full second, teeth bared, before dropping behind the granite counter with her hands already reaching for something useful.
“My sister!” Raine screams, thrashing against Soren's grip. I don’t know what Soren tells her but she must have understood Cora is safe because I don’t see her bolt across the room looking for her.
Chaos erupts in the stairwell.
“Ahh, it looks like more of my friends have arrived.”
My son is earning his place in a prison cell or a coffin the longer he plays this game.
Rafael looks at me and Soren looks at Rafael. I learned patience a long time ago. The price I paid for the wisdom that comes from learning to wait was steep. I lost a wife because I failed to stop and think. I lost a son because I was impulsive.
I hold my hand out a fraction to signal for my brothers to hold their positions. Going balls to the wall and having a chaotic shootout isn’t the way to go here.
We hold.
Cora peers out from the corner of her hiding spot and I shake my head.
And then there’s silence.
“Now!” I bellow.
Soren, Rafael and I all step out from behind our cover as Nikolai’s hired muscle reloads.
Fear blooms over their faces when they realize their mistake.
The first man swings his weapon toward my chest and I close the distance in two strides, catch his wrist, redirect the barrel past my hip, and drive my fist into his jaw.
The impact rattles through my knuckles, sharp and satisfying.
His knees buckle against the marble. The second one comes from my left.
I take the hit on my forearm, redirect his momentum past me, and drive my elbow into the base of his skull.
He drops face-first onto glass with a heavy, wet sound that feeds my soul.
I don’t risk leaving my focus on either of them for long. I can’t afford to give my son more ammunition against me than he already has. He knows how much Cora means to me. He will use her to get what he wants and I will give it to him.
Beside me, Rafael and Soren take care of the remaining fuckers.
I scan for Cora across the lobby. Glass and overturned furniture and bodies create a maze of chaos between us.
She crouches behind a column with Raine, her white hair catching emergency light in a flash of silver against the stone.
Her face is tight with controlled fear, her hands gripping Raine's arm, her mouth moving.
She's telling her sister something I can't make out over the chaos.
But she's alive.
A round catches my left arm above the elbow, a hot, sharp line across the skin, but I ignore the pain. I step over a body that is no longer contributing to the fight, and close the distance to Cora's column.
I reach her just as Nikolai comes around the opposite side.
Evil gleams in those soulless eyes.
Twenty years of Bratva training has honed his skills and made a weapon out of my boy. His arm locks around Cora's throat and the muzzle of a Makarov grinds against her temple before my next breath clears my lungs.
Every sound in the lobby thins to static. I sense more than see my brothers hold their position.
Raine crouches three feet to the left, a gun in both hands I assume she got from Soren. Her face is white as chalk, but her fingers steady on the trigger. Soren stands behind her with his body angled to block a shot she'd never see coming, amber eyes on Nikolai, calculating without moving.
"Take me." I strip my words of all emotions and leave nothing but the command. "I'm the one you want, Nikolai."
My son laughs. Twenty years of anguish leaves a man bitter. "Why? But I had her first, dear Daddy." His arm tightens around Cora's throat and her fingers claw at his forearm. "So I think it's only fair I get to keep her."
He presses his mouth to Cora's cheek. Then he drags his tongue up the side of her face, slow, deliberate, jaw to temple.
"I licked her." He grins over Cora's shoulder. "Now she's mine."
The cold that drops through my blood bleeds me of humanity. All I see is red. Death fills my senses and I forget about our shared blood.
My fists tighten until my knuckles pop and the silver ring bites into the finger beside it, pulling me off the lethal edge my demons want to push me over.
I inhale sharply and fill my lungs with gunpowder and the sting of rage. The men who loaded cargo beside me in Saint Petersburg would step back from me if they ever saw the rage pouring into my blood.
The only barrier keeping me from ending Nikolai Volkov’s life is the gun pressed against the temple of the woman I love.
Cora surges against his hold, every muscle straining, as she fights against the arm locked around her throat.
"Stop." I speak to her and I pour everything into the word. Every promise. Every night in the compound. Every morning we shared together. "Don't give him a reason to pull the trigger. He'd love nothing more."
Violet eyes find mine across six feet of glass-covered marble. Fury blazes in them, hot and alive. She holds. She trusts me enough to hold.
Nikolai's arm stays locked and he holds the gun steady. Shattered glass catches the overhead lights and throws fractured rainbows across the ceiling.
“Aww, the two love birds are scared for each other.”
His blue eyes shine with bitter amusement despite the obvious pain I see there too.
"I got your letter." Nikolai's voice shifts.
The performance peels back and underneath is rawness.
"You remember the letter, right, Father?
I packed my bag and waited at the airstrip.
I was so excited that my father wanted me at his side.
Grandfather showed up telling me you changed your mind.
He handed me a letter from you telling me I was better off in Russia. "
I feel the weight of eyes on me from my brothers.
"He handed me a letter in your handwriting and your words.
" Nikolai taps the metal tip of his gun against Cora’s temple.
"Telling me I was better off in Russia. Telling me you didn't want me.
" He turns to Cora and presses his lips to her ear.
“Can you believe that? Can you believe a father would do that to his son?”
I turn the ring on my finger. The silver is warm and slick with blood.
"Your grandfather is a master manipulator, son. I was at the airport. Ready to pick you up. He was supposed to deliver you to me. Instead I received a note in your handwriting telling me you wanted nothing to do with me. That you considered me responsible for your mother's death."
My son chuckles like I’ve said something funny.