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With a shaky hand, I stop the playback. The weight of this revelation is almost suffocating. The sharp tang of my brewing coffee cuts through the room, but the anxiety, the apprehension, drowns everything else out. I want to scream, to rage against the inevitable. Roman, the supposed enemy, has worked his way into my heart. And if Vladimir's merciless plan goes into action, it won't just be Roman's blood marking the city's cobblestones.
A gnawing sense of urgency takes root. I need to act, and quickly. My next move isn't just for myself, that is clear. It's for Roman, for Ilya, and maybe for a future I haven’t even dared to dream of.
Darkness encases the streets of St. Petersburg, the melancholy tune of the night accompanying me. With Lena cradling Ilya in her arms as I leave, I step out into the evening, desperate to find solace, a temporary escape from my current peril. The bar isn't particularly fancy or well-known, but it's dim and nondescript — exactly what I need right now.
The interior smells faintly of aged wood and decades-old smoke, a hint of something spicy playing in the background. Low murmurs and soft laughter drift through the air as I take a seat by the bar. The bartender nods in recognition, and I request a club soda with lime. Something stiff sounds better, but the nausea from the night before is still fresh on my mind.
Each sip is a dance of bubbles on my tongue, but my thoughts are elsewhere. The icy coolness settles in my stomach, and I let it soothe the burning tension wrapped tightly around my heart. There's a call I need to make, a voice I need to hear. The weight of the realization pushes me to step outside, away from the noise, away from the eyes that might be watching.
The night air feels brisk against my face, cool and refreshing. My fingers hover above the screen, Roman's name glaring at me. I take a deep breath, pushing past the hesitancy and the tingling sensation in the pit of my stomach, a brief wave of nausea washing over me.
The first ring barely has time to echo when my world upends. Rough hands grab me from behind, one clamping over my mouth while another wrenches the phone from my grip. I bite, I kick, but there's more than one assailant, and they're too strong.
My heart slams against my chest, frantic and wild, as they drag me towards a sleek black car. I'm shoved into the backseat, Vladimir's piercing eyes waiting for me. A cruel smirk plays on his lips as he snatches my still-connected phone.
“Ah, Valentina, always the defiant one,” he chuckles darkly, the sound cutting through the car's confines.
The voice on the other end is unmistakable. Panic-laced and desperate, Roman demands, "What the hell have you done with Valentina?"
Vladimir raises an eyebrow, his amusement evident. "Isn’t it charming when enemies become lovers? Roman, I hope you savored your time with my sister. Because it's the last memory you'll have of her.”
My breath hitches. Every fiber of my being screams out, but the goon next to me keeps me pinned, his grip like iron.
“You think this is about territory? Power?” Vladimir continues, malice dripping from every word. “This is for family.”
Roman's voice is barely audible, filled with cold fury. "If you lay a finger on her, I swear—"
Vladimir cuts him off, laughing darkly. "Prepare for war, Roman. Because it's coming, and nothing in this world can stop it.”
The line goes dead. My brother's face, once familiar and protective, now seems like a stranger's. And as the car speeds through the night, I know one thing for certain — I’m caught in a game where the stakes are higher than ever. The storm is here, and there's no escaping it.
Chapter 22
Roman
The weight in my chest intensifies, Vladimir’s chilling words echoing in my ears. My fingers, cold and shaky, swipe open my phone. Would he actually harm Valentina, his own flesh and blood? As much as I'd like to believe there are lines even the Chechens won't cross, this life has shown me that family can be more brutal than enemies.
For all I know, what I’d overheard had been nothing more than a family squabble out of context. All the same, there’s no arguing with the sick feeling in my gut, one telling me something was very wrong. One thing is for certain – I’m going to find out, one way or another.
I dial into the conference line we’ve had for years, punching in a sequence of numbers only the five of us know. I can feel the seconds dragging as I wait for each of them to join.
Andrei's voice is first, always prompt. "Roman?"
“Everyone here?” I ask, taking a deep breath, steadying myself for the onslaught of information I’m about to unleash.
One by one, each voice chimes in – Damien with his always curious tone, Leo in his calm and collected manner, and Samuil, the fiery spirit among us.
“We're all here. What’s the emergency?” Damien's voice booms with concern.
Drawing in another breath, I unleash it all. “Vladimir has threatened war, and Valentina... she’s been taken.”
Stunned silence fills the line. I can almost picture the expressions on each of their faces. The shock, the rage, the determination. Finally, Andrei, ever the eldest and protector, breaks the silence. “We end this. Once and for all. The Chechens have already proven beyond a shadow of doubt they’re not going to stand aside while we move into the city. And if they’re turning on their own, that’s all the more reason to take them out.”
Leo's tech-savvy brain is already ten steps ahead. “I can get eyes everywhere. No part of this city will hide from us.”
“Good,” I say, glad for his prowess. “We need to know their every move.”
Samuil, voice calm but with a hint of cold rage, interjects, “We should consider a diversion. They’ll expect a full, open war.”
