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“Trying to make you out a fool, Volkov?” I laugh drily. “Why should I bother? It is so very obvious to anyone who sees you.”
The fucker looks like his head is about to explode. “You—!” he begins, then stops abruptly as the sounds of cars honking and people shouting outside infiltrate the room. Volkov spins around, momentarily distracted. Startled too, if I’m not mistaken. But his composure is quick to recover. The bastard may not be a hard man, but he knows more than I do about hiding his emotions.
Slippery bastard.
He glances from the window to me and then grins. “Ah. This will be the rest of my men.” Volkov turns toward the door, stepping away from me. “Your estate will be a smoldering ruin by the time I’m done, Anton. And so will your life,” he throws back over his shoulder at me. The bastard leaves me, and the door slams shut; it’s just me and the shadows now. Shadows that flicker with memories of Scarlett’s face.
She’s gone.
Shot dead.
By the same motherfucker that killed my wife.
And it’s my fucking fault.
For a brief moment, grief sweeps through me. I clench my fists and grit my teeth, focusing on the pain radiating from my leg wound. The pain I deserve. But then, something else takes over. A sense of clarity. Raw purpose. Suddenly, it feels like everyone I’ve ever lost is here with me in this room, their spirits giving me the strength and courage to do what needs to be done.
Save my son.
And then exact a bloody revenge against the bastards who did this. Every single one of them will pay with pain like they have never experienced before.
I draw a deep breath, and the fog clears from my mind as if it never existed. My eyes find the walls around me again, and I can almost feel the weight of all those who have gone before me pressing down upon my shoulders. They are here with me now too, backing me up just like Scarlett was doing…before they took her.
My training kicks in as if no time has passed since that dark day when I left Volkov’s grasp for good. Instinctively, I start searching for an escape route: a weapon hidden in plain sight; an exit point where no one will expect one.
But there is nothing here – only more shadows in the dim light of this room.
So instead, I focus on one simple thought: revenge.
Whether it’s tonight or if I have to come back from the grave to do it. Volkov is going to pay. For Scarlett. For Katya. For the years I’ve been forced to live on the run to keep my son out of his clutches.
And if he has laid one finger on Nikolai, even the Devil himself won’t offer him sanctuary.
I twist against the ropes binding me, jerking at my wrists and ankles as much as possible in an attempt to break free. If Scarlett is dead, and if these thugs are going to tear apart my home, then I’ll be damned if I don’t at least try to fight back.
There are more shouts from outside, and I strain to make out what they’re saying. Trying to recognize who might be out there. If it’s more of Volkov’s cronies, I’m as good as done for. But there’s no way I’ll go without taking some of them motherfuckers with me. I feel warm stickiness trickle down my wrist as I yank sharply at the ropes yet again.
Did something loosen?
I pause as Volkov’s voice booms in the hallway.
“Take him out! Just like the others,” he yells. “We don’t have time to stick around here,mudak!”
Fuck!
The clock is ticking. They’ll be in here in seconds. I have to get free. My fury surges, as does my determination. I am a man of action. I must do something. The darkness of the room seems to close in around me, tightening its grip as the shadows on the walls dance and contort, mocking my helplessness.
Not helpless. I’ll tear his throat out with my goddamn teeth if I have to.
I struggle harder. The race is on as the shouts outside grow louder.
Come on, come on!
The tendons and ligaments of my shoulders strain at the pressure I’m putting against the bonds at my wrists.
The sound of approaching footsteps causes my pulse to race even faster.
The doorknob turns.
