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It was only a matter of time before Viktor found out. But hearing it so bluntly, especially after the blow, I can only offer a half-smile. "We didn't plan it, you know. It just happened."
Viktor takes a step closer, his expression darkening. "Look, Samuil, Ana's been through enough. She's strong, the strongest woman I know, but she's also been hurt too many times. And I swear," he pokes a finger hard into my chest, emphasizing each word, "if you ever,everhurt her, I’ll chop you up into tiny bits and feed you to the sharks."
For a moment, the weight of his words hang in the air between us. I don't break eye contact, letting him see the sincerity in my gaze. “I wouldn’t expect anything less from you. She’s special to me, Viktor. I promise you, I’d die before I let anything happen to her.”
Viktor watches me for a few heartbeats, as if measuring the depth of my conviction. Then, with a slight nod, he replies, “Just remember that promise.”
There’s always been an understanding between us, an unspoken bond forged in the fires of family loyalty and love. With a sigh, Viktor claps a heavy hand on my shoulder.
"Just... take care of her, alright?"
I nod, feeling a new weight on my shoulders, one of a deeper trust along with the responsibility of protecting his little sister on a whole other level. “Always.”
Viktor's eyes find mine with a mix of hesitation and understanding. "I'll stay with Ana," he says. His voice, usually so hard and unwavering, cracks with a hint of emotion. "She shouldn't have to wake up alone."
My gaze shifts to the room's entrance. The very thought of Ana lying there, weak and broken, such a contrast to the woman warrior I’ve come to adore, makes my heart clench. "Viktor," I begin, "I promise you. I'll make them pay. Every last one of them."
Viktor nods, his jaw clenched, unspoken sentiments of brotherhood, duty, and vengeance understood between us. "Good," he says, finally. "But before you go, she'd want to know you were here. Even if she doesn't wake up, she needs to hear your voice."
I'm taken aback, surprised at the opportunity Viktor is granting me. "Just a few minutes," I say.
He nods understandingly. “Of course,” he says, and steps aside.
I slowly enter the room. The steady beeping of the heart monitor fills the silence, and the antiseptic smell of the hospital is stifling. She’s lying on the bed, looking so fragile and pale, her fiery spirit dimmed. The sight tears at my heart.
Walking to her bedside, I take her hand in mine, the coldness of her fingers sending shivers up my spine. The Ana I know is passionate, fierce, a force of nature. Seeing her like this, lifeless and vulnerable, feels like a cruel joke.
“Ana,” I whisper, my voice choked with emotion. “It’s me, Samuil. I'm here.”
I gently squeeze her hand, hoping for even the slightest response. But she remains still, the steady rise and fall of her chest the only indicator of her life. I lean closer, my lips close to her ear.
“I love you,” I say, the words spilling out, raw and unfiltered. “I'll never let anyone hurt you again. I promise you, I'll protect you, always. No matter what.”
There’s no response, but a warmth envelops me, a connection that goes beyond the physical. It's as if, in her own way, she's reassuring me.
With one last lingering glance, I gently press my lips to her forehead, sealing my promise. I step back, determination filling every fiber of my being.
Exiting the room, Viktor stands waiting, his gaze seeking answers in mine. I simply nod, letting him know it's time.
There’s an uneasiness in the air as Andrei, Roman, Damien, Leo, and I sit around the worn wooden table in the Bratva safehouse. The dim overhead light casts a grim ambiance that perfectly matches our mood. The blueprints of the Romanian warehouse lay sprawled in front of us. Every corner, every entrance and exit, are marked in detail.
Roman leans forward, a glint of deep purpose burning in his eyes. "Their operations run out of this warehouse. Drugs, weapons, their entire network. If we cripple this, we cripple them."
Damien points at a side entrance. "There's a weak point here. Minimal guards. We can enter from this point and plant explosives."
Andrei nods in agreement. "Once inside, we split. Damien, you and your team handle the goods. Secure whatever they’ve got, and make sure it’s ready to be shipped out. Roman, you target their records, every shred of evidence, every deal they've made, wipe it clean. Leave them blind."
Roman smirks, "Consider it done."
I meet Andrei's gaze, a silent understanding passing between us. "I'll head straight for Radu. I want to look in his eyes when he realizes what’s coming."
We delve deeper into planning, discussing every detail, every possible scenario, everything that could go wrong and the backup plan if it does. This isn’t just about revenge; it’s about sending a message, one that will resonate through every corner of the underworld.
Hours go by, but time seems to stand still. It feels like an eternity and a blink all at once. The clock soon reads eleven-thirty p.m. We gear up, ready to take the fight to the enemy.
The cold Moscow air hits us as we step outside. The city, usually so alive, seems to hold its breath in anticipation. Snow blankets the ground, untouched, pure. A stark contrast to the chaos we're about to unleash.
The night is silent, save for the distant hum of the streetlights and our synchronized footsteps crunching the snow beneath. As we approach our vehicles, we go into dark mode. Every move from here on out is based on trust, on the expectation that each one of us knows our part and will execute it flawlessly.
