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Chapter 21
Philippe
Blood. So much blood.
The metallic stench assaults my senses. Crimson pools seep into the marble floor, reflections of the carnage that lies before me.
Two bodies sprawled face down in a grotesque pantomime of death, limbs splayed at impossible angles. Tatiana kneels between them, clutching her mother's lifeless hand, her screams piercing the silence.
She trembles against me, her tears soaking through my shirt. I whisper soothing words into her hair and hold her tight, my heart shattering at her anguish.
I smooth a strand of hair from Tatiana's face and tip her chin up to meet my gaze. I try to soothe Tatiana as shock crashes over her in waves, but she remains unresponsive in my arms. Hereyes stare at nothing, glazed with grief, as she trembles against me.
All I want is to take her pain away, but I'm helpless in the face of such tragedy. She doesn’t want me to call the police? What other option is there?
"Tatiana, talk to me," I urge gently. "I'm here for you. Whatever you need, it's yours." She doesn't seem to hear me. I sigh and pull her closer, brushing a kiss over her hair. I don't have the heart to move her or suggest we leave. When her tears finally come back again, I hold her through the storm. She clings to me, face pressed into my neck, and I feel every shuddering sob like a knife through my heart.
"Why?" she whispers. "How could this happen?"
"The police need to be called right away, darling. They can investigate and find evidence to help catch whoever did this. They’ll find the answers we seek."
She shakes her head, fresh tears spilling onto her cheeks. "No. No police. I told you that already. Your men...they can do it. They'll make the bastards pay."
Her demand startles me. Does she understand what she's asking? Getting my men involved will only lead to more violence and death. But looking into her eyes, I see she knows exactly what she's asking for. I swallow hard, torn between protecting her and respecting her wishes. "Tatiana, this is not the life Iwanted for you. Let the police handle this so we can find justice the right way."
"The right way?" Her voice cracks. "Philippe, where is the right in this?” She motions at the grotesque scene. “The police can’t make this right. Philippe, please do this for me. I need to know they suffered like my parents suffered! I want their necks slit. I want to watch them die. Will the police let me watch them die, Philippe?"
Her plea guts me. I cradle her face in my hands, resting my forehead against hers. How can I deny her this? If this had been my father, my mother, I’d want the same. She's lost everything, and if revenge is what she needs to start healing, how can I refuse?
I sigh, defeat and determination warring inside me. She's left me no choice. For her, I would storm the gates of hell itself.
"All right," I say softly." But you have to promise me you'll let me handle it my way then. Whatever it takes.”
"I promise," she whispers, relief flickering in her eyes.
I kiss her forehead and pull her close, wishing I didn't have to drag her into my world like this. But for now, all that matters is giving her justice...and keeping her safe from the same fate as her parents.
"We'll find who did this," I vow, my voice low and fierce. "I promise you, they will pay."
She looks up at me with eyes glazed by shock and grief. "Make them suffer," she whispers.
Her words ignite the darkness inside me. I cradle her head against my chest, hiding my grim smile. She'll have her vengeance.
Taking a deep breath, I force myself to focus on what must be done next. "I'm going to call my backup team to gather evidence and start investigating," I tell Tatiana while I take out my phone and dial Antonio’s number. My Lieutenant will give orders to my most trusted men. I have full confidence that they'll be discreet and efficient.
Hanging up, I manage to guide Tatiana into the kitchen, away from the morbid scene, and make her some tea. She follows, sagging into a chair at the dining table.
After only a few sips of tea, she falls into a fitful sleep, her arms crossed in front of her over the dining table. I wish I could convince her to shower, to change. Her sitting here, clothes still soaked in her parents’ blood, serves no purpose. But she’s on an emotional ledge. Right now, I need to let her find her small comforts, whatever those may be.
A leaden cloak comes to settle on my shoulders. It's not just about avenging Tatiana's parents anymore; it's about keeping her safe from whatever threat is lurking in the shadows. Maybethere is more to her family than meets the eye. The fact that there was so little information available about her online comes to mind.
I look up at the sound of tires screeching outside, indicating the arrival of my men. A glance out the window confirms their presence. I turn back to Tatiana. She’s still lying with her head in her arms.
I go to open the front door and am immediately greeted by the grim faces of my loyal soldiers. They've seen horrors before, but the sight of Tatiana's parents must have shaken even them. As we discuss our plan of action, Enzo approaches me, face grim. "Boss, you need to see this."
He leads me to the wall by the front door, illuminated by floodlights. There, painted in garish red, is the mark of the Bratva—a spoked wheel with flames licking up from the center.
"Merda," -shit - I mutter under my breath, as fear and anger coil in my gut like two venomous snakes. This is my worst nightmare come true. Guilt gnaws at my heart.
