Chapter 37

37

NIKOLAI

" R epeat that," I demand, my voice cutting through the thick tension like a blade.

Nadia sits on my bed, hunched over her knees, her grip tightening around the knife in her hand. The gleam of steel catches the dim light as she spits out the words again, each one laced with venom. "Boris is striking a deal with the Yakuza to smuggle him out of the country. He's desperate, and they're his only option."

Rage coils in my chest, sizzling off the leftover shower droplets along my skin. The bastard's always been a snake, but this? This cuts to the bone. The alliance between the Russians and the Japanese had always been fragile, a ticking time bomb ready to explode at the slightest provocation. And now, Boris is setting the match.

"No one makes deals with the fucking Yakuza," I snarl, the words like gravel in my throat. My fingers itch to grab something, break something .

Aleksandr leans against the window, unnervingly calm, his shadow stretching long across the room. His eyes are hard, calculating, but there's a resignation there that only fuels my fury. "It makes sense," he mutters.

"The hell it does," I snap back, pacing the floor, the towel around my waist nearly forgotten. I can feel the tension building in my jaw, muscles clenched so tight it feels like they're about to snap.

Aleksandr's gaze is cold as ice as he speaks, his voice mocking. "The enemy of my enemy is my friend."

I stop in my tracks, locking eyes with him. "The Yakuza aren't a group that makes a deal that big without something bigger in return."

"He'll be lucky if they get him out of the country alive, let alone to Russia." Aleksandr's even tone grates against my skin, and a part of me wants to punch him in the face for being so fucking calm.

"Old man's lost his mind," I mutter almost to myself as I make my way into the walk-in closet and search for clothes. "He knows how volatile this is. If this gets out?—"

"It won't get out," Nadia growls, followed by the sure sound of my comforter being sliced open with her knife. The room is silent for a moment, besides the clink of my hangers knocking against each other.

"Are you saying that you finally agree to let us kill Boris?" Aleksandr questions, and I pause my searching throughout the closet to hear her answer.

Nadia's voice comes out small, cautious just like she sounded as a child. "Yes…I mean…I don't know. "

"Well, when you figure it out," Alek responds in a bored tone, and I continue to look through my clothes.

I carefully retrieve a dark, charcoal-colored hoodie from my closet, along with a well-worn pair of black jeans and black timberland boots. I sit on the bench in front of the wall-length mirror and take a deep breath before facing my reflection. My eyes widen in shock as I take in my disheveled appearance - tangled hair, dark circles under my bloodshot eyes, and pale skin. I look like shit. I am running on fumes, barely able to function, and I don't know if I can keep running around like this to capture Boris.

I haven't slept more than four hours this week, barely eaten anything, but the ache of not being inside Gwen for the past two weeks is like a knife twisting in my gut, leaving me raw. I am on my last sane nerve before it pops and I become the man I never wanted to be.

Funny enough, this is the type of man Boris wanted me to be. A man gone insane for vengeance just like he is, and I don't know how he looks so well rested. I pull my clothes onto my damp skin, adding a cashmere t-shirt and underwear under the all black attire.

I wipe my hand across my face and make my way back into the bedroom. "If Boris is in bed with the Yakuza, it means he is desperate enough to be sloppy; we got him right where we want him."

I don't stop to look at my siblings; instead, I leave the room knowing they will follow. "We need to move Gwen to a safe house. Nadia?"

"Don't worry, I got her," she responds, keeping up with my pace .

"Alek, I need you to find Boris's trail even if it is a footprint. I want to know the last place he breathed," I order and Alek responds with a curt grunt of agreement. I turn the corner, starting down the stairs, looking over to the couch and seeing that Gwen is absent and her book sits idly closed where I last saw her.

"Gwen," I call as I hit the last step. The murmurs of my guards catch my attention.

A hushed whisper yells, "What do you mean she is not in the lobby?"

Another voice whispers back, "I did a floor by floor sweep. I don't know where she went."

The cold knot of dread coils tighter, hardening into a fist in my gut. "What the hell are you saying?" My voice is sharp, lethal, and it silences the murmuring guards instantly.

Nadia moves in beside me, her eyes scanning the room with a predator's intensity. "She wouldn't just leave without a word. Where was she last seen?"

My mind races, piecing together fragments of the last hour. Gwen in my hoodie, curled up with her book, pretending everything was fine. The way she smiled—too easy, too forced. I should've seen it. I should've known she'd run away again.

"Where is she?" I growl, every muscle tensing as I turn on the guards.

"She—she said she needed a minute alone, sir. She promised she wouldn't leave the building, just needed some space," one of the guards stutters, clearly terrified.

I feel something dark and violent crack open inside me, a red haze blurring the edges of my vision. "And you believed her?" The words drip with venom. "You let her out of your sight?"

The guard's face pales, his hand trembling as he clutches his gun. "I—I thought?—"

"I don't pay you to fucking think," I snarl, cutting him off. My heart pounds against my ribs, each beat filled with the icy dread. "I pay you to know where she is at all times. Now I'll ask again. Where is Gwen?"

"Nik, let him go." Nadia's voice eases under the hot burn of anger, crawling under my skin. My eyes stay on his fear filled pupils as I release my grip on his throat and he gradually drops to the ground out of my eyeline.

I close my eyes for a split second, forcing the rage down, forcing myself to think. Gwen's gone, and every second that passes is a second closer to losing her for good. No, I won't let that happen. I can't.

"Alek, sweep the building, all exits. Now!" I bark the order, and without hesitation, Aleksandr bolts into action.

"Move it," Aleksandr commands, shoving two guards towards the emergency exit with such force that they stumble.

My eyes lock onto the guard who let her slip away, and I can feel my blood boiling with rage. "You're coming with me." My voice comes out in a dangerous low growl. "And if we don't find her, you'll wish you were never born."

The guard's face pales as he stammers out a response, but I don't give him any more attention as I storm toward the elevator, every nerve in my body on edge. The thought of Gwen in the hands of someone else—of someone using her against me—makes my blood run cold .

Nadia is hot on my heels, and she places her hand on the sliding doors, her eyes narrowing in on me. "Nik, if you catch him. You can't…you can't-"

"And what do you think I should do, Nadia?" I lean forward, looming over her with sharp eyes, eclipsing her in my shadow. "You want me to let daddy dearest go? Let Gwen die? Give him a free pass to Russia?"

"No," she grinds out, avoiding my gaze, nostrils flare as she darts her gaze from side to side. "Nikolai, he's our father."

"No," I snarl, knocking her hands off of the sides of the elevator. "That is your father, and when I catch him, there will be less of him left than our mother."

I back up, keeping my hardened gaze on her as the elevator doors close in her face, but before they can slam shut, her pain-filled scream cuts through the air, "Nik!"

There is a part of me that wants to run to her and beg for forgiveness, promising I won't kill her father, but right now, with Gwen so far out of my reach, no piece of me bleeds for her, because Gwen has already bled me out.

"Last time she was seen was in the lobby," Aleksandr says, spinning his laptop to face me as we walk down the seventeenth floor hallway, because when my guards said they swept the building, I didn't fucking believe they'd do it properly. They went from the top down and went from the bottom up.

"Where in the lobby?" I move the bed of a twenty year-old couple who are currently being occupied by my head guard Roshin who regrettably was on his scheduled sleep break during Gwen's disappearance. A fucking mistake that I would never make again.

"She was on the arm of the couch in the corner, then the video skips."

I grab Alek's wrist and he turns back the video to Gwen talking on the phone one second and then the lobby being empty the next second.

"We also found her phone," Alek adds, his voice rough. A guard behind him holds it up like it's some sort of consolation prize, but all I can focus on is the blank screen, the reflection of my own fury staring back at me.

"She was right there," I mutter, more to myself than to anyone else, my eyes locked on the screen. "Right fucking there."

I force myself to look away, my thoughts clouded as I am trying to figure out where I can ground myself, see clear enough not to get her home safely.

I tear my eyes away from the screen and grab her phone, dialing the last number she called which unsurprisingly was Kelsey. It rings once, twice, and then goes straight to voicemail. I curse under my breath and try again, the repetitive drone of the unanswered call like a hammer to my skull.

Voicemail. Again.

I try once more, a cold sweat breaking out on my forehead. Nothing. Just that same damn voicemail. I'm gripping the phone so hard I'm surprised it doesn't shatter.

As we approach the lobby, my eyes scan the space with the precision of a predator. I'm looking for anything—any sign, any clue that those idiots might have missed. And then I see it, placed gently on the middle of the seat where Gwen once sat on the arm of the chair, chatting to Kelsey on her phone—a satin lilac box, almost identical to the last one with pieces of my mother, except for the ivory silk ribbon tied around it.

My breath catches in my throat, and I step forward, my breathing coming out sharp and heavy, beating in my ears. The box burns in my gaze. It's taunting, and it's for me. I know it before I even touch it.

"Nik, don't-" Alek barks.

I push through, and pull the ribbon loose with trembling fingers, the rage in my chest tightening into something cold and lethal. The box opens with a soft, almost innocent click, revealing its contents.

A chunk of Gwen's curly black hair.

I stare at it, the dark curls resting on the pale satin like some twisted trophy. A note is tucked beneath the hair, its edges crumpled as if someone had clenched it in a fist. My hands shake as I pull it out, unfolding the paper with a kind of dread that seeps into my bones.

The words are scrawled in a jagged, almost mocking script:

Next time, I'll send you her scalp. Let me leave in peace, or you'll have her in pieces.

For a moment, I can't breathe. The world narrows to just those words, and the strands of Gwen's hair tied in an emerald green bow. Her favorite color. Just how fucking long could he have been watching her?

A low, primal growl builds in my chest, rising up until it rips from my throat in a roar of pure, unfiltered rage. I slam the box against the wall, the satin and ribbon scattering across the floor as I turn on my heel.

"Gather the heads of our alliances. I need to make a deal."