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I drop without hesitation. I know I have no other option. Even if it buys me a few minutes to save my son, it’s worth it.
The concrete hard and cold under my knees as I land. I sense rather than hear the men shifting around us. There’s an eerie silence now as Volkov eyes land me. He looks surprised. What did he expect? I’d die for my child if I thought it would save him. But I know it’s not over yet.
“Now, squeal like a pig.”
“What?” Is the fucker serious? He knows I’ll do it, but I doubt it’s going to make any difference. He’s just drawing out his moments of triumph. Rubbing my face in the dirt.
“I don’t like repeating myself, Ulianov. Squeal like the fucking pig you are!” His eyes slant sideways and his head dips slightly. A silent instruction. There’s a movement from one of his men and then a mechanical whirr. Metal clangs as a giant funnel swivels over the top of the pit Nikolai is chained in.
“No!” The word is torn from me as concrete mix cascades into the pit, its viscous flow threatening to cover my son. Panic suffocates me, urgency reaching a fever pitch.
“I spent my life working to get where I am.” Volkov’s voice rings out over the sound of the pouring cement. “I got here by being stronger than men like you. Smarter. You think you can get away with defying me?”
I never did. I knew this day would come eventually. The reckoning. I’d somehow hoped it would be a showdown between men, though. But the Volkov doesn’t operate like the rest of us. “Honor” is a nonexistent word in his vocabulary.
“Fuck you,” I snarl, knowing that he plans to kill my son as I watch, whether I play by his rules or not.
I don’t do rules. I narrow my eyes on him.
“Come on, pig. Squeal for me! Show me that you can learn to behave, and maybe I’ll let him live.”
He’ll never let him live. He made that decision the day I walked out of the Bratva. Nobody gets out alive. He owns us.
Volkov waves his hand and the guy at the controls angles a thicker flow of cement into the hole. Volkov is laughing like a madman as I watch the pit begin to fill faster. A mix of rage and horror surge through my veins, my heart slamming against my ribs. My head races, unraveling a whirlwind of scenarios as I calculate the odds of getting to him on time.
Blyad.
It’s now or never, Ulianov.
I’m surrounded and unarmed. Outnumbered. But that’s never stopped me before. And it won’t stop me now.
Ignoring all dangers, love for my son overriding every other instinct, I lunge forward.
“Niko!” I roar as I throw myself through the air.
“Anton!” I hear Scarlett scream behind me, although it seems as if the sound comes from a distance.
There’s a blur around me as I charge forward with one purpose in mind. Get to Niko. But the blur turns out to be a flurry of movement from Volkov’s men. They react with ruthless efficiency – I expected as much – their movements are honed by countless confrontations. But what choice do I have?
“Get him!” Volkov bellows. “I want him alive so he can suffer through this!”
His threats don’t scare me. What worries me most is the rapidly filling pit.
“Niko!” I yell again. There’s silence now. He doesn’t respond.
Please, God!
Please don’t let it happen.
Not again.
Noy my son!
I can’t let someone else I love die. It can’t happen. I won’t let it.
I feel a hand grasp my upper arm, and I swing a vicious fist that connects with something that crushes beneath it. There’s a heavy blow between my shoulders and then a kick aimed at my legs. I keep going, mindlessly crashing through bodies. Until something hits me. A blow to my head that could only be driven by cold steel. I don’t get a chance to figure out what it is because my vision goes dark.
“Nyet!” is all I can choke out.
