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I finish the glass of water in a series of quick gulps, ignoring the pain in my head from the angle, and walk to the door. My steps are still unsteady, and my mind still needs some clarity, but I feel good enough to drive my car into the Russians’ territory and fight for my wife and my son. No matter what Yuriy thinks, they are my family, and he can’t take them away from me.
I've already lost them once, and I am not going to let it happen again.
As soon as I drive onto the street, I feel the aftereffects of the blow in my head. It’s difficult to concentrate on many things at once, and I feel a headache growing at the back of my mind. But thankfully, I’ve spent half of my life driving the streets of Chicago, and I know the coordinates of Yuriy’s mansion by heart. So I follow the directions in my mind almost reflexively, creating only a few dangerous situations on the road.
When I get closer to the Bratva’s borders, though, I slow down and try not to attract their attention. The last thing I need right now is another confrontation with some morons of a lower rank. But surprisingly, nobody pays attention to me, and even when I cross paths with a group that clearly looks like a patrol, they don’t bat an eye.
Damn. That’s suspicious, isn’t it? Perhaps I have to be more careful—but instead, I pick up speed and drive straight to Yuriy’s mansion. Whatever reason they’re ignoring me, I don’t care. Right now, the only thing that matters is to get to Sasha and Misha as soon as I can.
It’s hard to mistake Yuriy’s mansion for anything else. A few years ago, when I still was too young and low-ranked to be known by the Russians, Riccardo’s father sent me to keep an eye on Yuriy. We had a reason to believe that he was keeping a few of our men in the basement of his mansion—later, we found out it was true—so I had to gather as much information as possible to get them out of there.
I know where most of the rooms are and how to sneak closer to the mansion without being noticed, but I don’t care enough to hide my appearance. Even if the Russians didn’t stop my car, they must’ve reported it to Yuriy, so what’s the point? Besides, I don’t have enough strength of mind right now to create a better plan of approach—so instead, I drive my car straight to the entrance of Yuriy’s mansion and swing the door closed behind me.
The building is oddly peaceful and quiet, with no guards or servants coming out to greet me, and for some reason it pisses me off. I see cars in the parking lot, so that means at least someone is inside. Is it not Yuriy? Did he take Sasha and Misha somewhere else? Shit. No, it can’t be!
“Yuriy, you bastard!” I yell, walking up the stairs to the door. I’m glad to notice that my coordination is better now, but the soreness and exhaustion still keep my muscles stiff. “Where are you? Where did you take them?”
The empty hallway only echoes my words back at me, and with a rush of frustration I take out my gun, ready to shoot at the ceiling, when I finally hear some movement. Are those steps? Is someone coming to face me? I look around, trying to find the source of the sound, but at the last moment I realize that it’s coming from multiple sides, and one of them is right behind me!
I instinctively turn around, firing at the door and whoever is hiding behind it, and step back. The thunder of my own gunshots hurts my ears, making me flinch. Shit. I have to focus! I breathe out sharply and raise my gun, looking at every door and opening leading from the hallway.
“Where are you?” I ask out loud, and the response comes from above.
“This door was made and carved from taiga trees, and you just shot it like a barbarian.” Sergei walks down the stairs with an indifferent expression, and I feel a wave of anger and adrenaline in my veins.
“You’ve stolen my wife like a fucking toy. Do you call yourself civilized?”
I aim my gun at him and open fire, but Sergei jumps a few stairs down, avoiding it, and before I can fire again, someone hits my head from behind. The burst of pain is so strong it blinds me for a moment, and I feel the ground slipping from under my feet until someone grabs both of my arms and forces me to stand up.
My mind is heavy, and my vision is blurry, so I have to blink a few times before I can focus on Sergei’s face in front of me. He stands there with his arms crossed and a cold look on his face, reminding me of his mother.
“Your marriage was just a deal, and you’ve broken it. Accept it.” Sergei looks at the men behind me and nods upstairs. “Take him to Father’s office.”
I groan under my breath and tug at my arms and shoulders, trying to free myself from the grip, but my movements are too slow and uncoordinated to do any good. Shit. I grit my teeth but give up to their nudging, walking after Sergei. They knew what they were doing when they hit me right at the bruise. That second blow shook my mind all over again, and now I have to pull myself together before my weakness becomes dangerous.
With my arms held behind my back, the Russians take me to the second floor where, after a few knocks on the door, they push me into the room hard enough to make me stumble. The pain of the sharp movement and the daylight streaming through open curtains make me wince for a moment when I hear a gasp.
“Louis!”
Is that Sasha? My heart immediately picks up its pace, and I frantically look around the room. I see Yuriy and Olga next to a huge desk, looking as unbothered as ever, and a few feet away from them, there are Sasha and Misha, kneeling on the floor with their hands tied behind their backs.
They both look at me with eyes full of surprise and relief, and Sasha even sits up in her place, her gaze darting over me from head to toe. “Are you okay?”
I nod, but before I can say anything Yuriy clears his throat and claps his hands. He looks between me and Sasha with a fake smile and shakes his head. “Ah, a family reunion! How sweet. It’s a shame you came all this way for nothing.”
“Let them go!” I immediately turn to him with a frown of rage, trying to step closer but being held back by the men behind me. “Sasha is my wife, Misha is my son, you can’t just take them away. They’re my family!”
I glance at them, and I see both Sasha and Misha looking at me with wide eyes, huddled together. At the same time, Yuriy leans back in his chair and hums as if he’s genuinely thinking about my words, and his theatrics make my blood boil. What a piece of shit! Is it so hard to be honest for once?
“Well, they're my family, too, aren't they?" He pointedly looks at Olga as if reminding me that she is Sasha’s aunt. Olga doesn’t even bat an eye, keeping her eyes on the laptop on the desk, but as always, it doesn't bother him. "But you shouldn't worry, I'll let them go as soon as I'm done with your cousin."
I blink. My cousin? Riccardo?
"Although I don't think you'll be there to witness it," Yuriy adds, rubbing his chin and studying me with a thoughtful frown. "I don't want you to spoil my plan, so—"
"No!" Sasha suddenly exclaims while I'm still processing his words. My mind is thick and slow, and it takes me a moment to grasp the hidden meaning. "Let him go, he hasn't done anything!"
But Yuriy only chuckles and swings in his chair, turning to face her. "So nowyouare going to defendhim. Interesting. Are you two actually in love or what?"
