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Suddenly, just as I think I'm in the clear, a door creaks open behind me. I barely have time to duck behind a pole. One of the men steps out, his gaze scanning the corridor. We lock eyes for a split second. I move first.
Swiftly and silently, I close the distance between us, twisting his arm behind his back. Before he can even let out a gasp of surprise, I slip my other arm around his neck, locking him into a chokehold. His struggles are futile, his movements becoming weaker as oxygen deprivation kicks in. I count the seconds, feeling his pulse beneath my fingers. The weight of his body threatens to bring me down, but adrenaline keeps me standing tall. Within moments, he goes limp, unconscious.
I quickly drag him to a nearby closet. In the low light of the supply closet, I recognize the gangster’s face – Yuri, some kid barely in his twenties who’d joined for thrills and excitement. Perhaps he’ll wake up and, realizing one of the deadliest assassins in Russia held his life in her hands and had mercy on him, reconsider his line of work, find something a little safer.
With that potential threat out of the way, I navigate through the building's maze-like corridors.
The night air hits me like a wave when I finally emerge outside. It's both refreshing and sobering. I've made it out, but the real journey — the journey to rescue my son and confront Vladimir — is just beginning.
Cold air bites my skin, the initial relief from the stifling room replaced by the harsh reality of the Russian winter. Frost clings to the world around me, shimmering under the dim streetlights. The icy wind snakes through my insufficient attire, reminding me of how unprepared I am for the elements. Each breath feels like inhaling shards of glass. There's no time to stop and think, though. Every second wasted increases the chances of being discovered.
I wrap my arms around my body, trying to contain whatever warmth I can, and move quickly through the silent streets. My footsteps are the only sound, crunching softly against the snow. Buildings loom on either side, their windows dark and unwelcoming. Here in the city's underbelly, everything is bathed in an eerie, ethereal light.
The knowledge that I'm being hunted by my own is a gut punch. Betrayal is a bitter pill, and the realization that I might have to fight family is terrifying. But the thought of Ilya, so young and innocent, being caught in the crossfire propels me forward.
My mind races as I consider my options. I need to change clothes, get some weapons, find a safe place for my son. And I need to contact Roman. Somehow. My relationship with the Bratva leader is complicated, to say the least. But if there's anyone who can help in this situation, it's him. Assuming, of course, that Vladimir hasn't gotten to him first.
Pushing the dread away, I focus on my immediate concern. Home. I have to get to Ilya. The thought of my brother taking him is too much to bear.
Seeing a small corner shop ahead, its lights dimly flickering, I make a quick decision. I approach, pressing myself against the store's wall, and steal a glance inside. The shopkeeper is busy, engrossed in conversation with a customer. Perfect.
Silently, I slide through the entrance, blending into the dim ambiance. With a practiced eye, I skim the racks for clothing that will fit and be suitable for the cold. A thick sweater, a woolen scarf, a pair of gloves. Efficiently, I strip off my lighter layers and don the warmer clothing right there in the shadows between the aisles. My movements are fluid, silent, a dance of necessity. Every second counts.
Before the shopkeeper or the customer have even the slightest inkling, I’m out, merging with the darkness once more, the door barely making a sound as it clicks shut behind me.
Dressed and ready, my thoughts turn to home and my son.
Chapter 24
Roman
After enjoying a room service lunch, I take a break from trying to get Ilya to giggle, giving the boy my undivided attention, when the door to the penthouse hotel room I’ve rented bursts open. My brothers, all of them, file in with their significant others. The entrance would be impressive if not for the shock etched on their faces at the sight of me—Roman Nicolaevich, known charmer and reckless playboy—playing with a kid.
“What the hell, Roman?” Andrei's voice booms, his authoritative demeanor instantly taking charge of the room. His green eyes, a mirror of my own, flick from me to the boy, scrutinizing. “Please tell me you didn’t kidnap him.”
“Of course I didn’t,” I reply.
Samuil grunts from the doorway, his broad shoulders nearly filling the frame. “Who’s the kid?”
Taking a deep breath, I stand up, lifting Ilya into my arms. “Let me get him settled for a nap and I’ll be right back.”
I carry Ilya to the guest room and get him tucked in. He looks at me with big eyes and asks, “Is my mama coming soon?”
I don’t want to lie to the kid, but I don’t want to frighten him any more than he already is. “Not too much longer, buddy.” I brush his hair back from his head and tuck him in. He closes his eyes; he’s exhausted, poor guy, and I’m glad he didn’t put up a fight about the nap.
“Alright, here's the deal,” I say as I return to the living room. I recount the twisted tale—meeting Valentina, finding out about her ties to the Chechen mob, her supposedly dead fiancé, the threat to Ilya, and everything else in between.
As I speak, my brothers exchange glances, processing the information. Andrei's face remains inscrutable, but I can see the cogs turning behind those eyes. Sandra stands close to him, her hand resting on his arm, silently offering her support.
When I finish, Leo breaks the silence. “This is big, Roman. The Chechen mob isn’t to be trifled with.”
“I’m aware,” I reply tersely.
Samuil growls, his fists clenching. “They won't touch the boy. Not if they know what's good for them.”
Damien leans against the wall, his face uncharacteristically dark. “So what's the plan?”
“We find Valentina, get her back, and make sure the Chechens understand they messed with the wrong family,” I declare. The resolve in my voice is unwavering. I don’t know exactly how we're going to achieve it, but I'm not giving up without a fight.
