11. Valentina

Chapter 11

Valentina

"Let go, love, it's over. He's dead."

Harsh ringing in my ears makes it hard to hear Mikhail's words as he gently pries the handgun from my fingers. The sharp smell of gunpowder hits my nose when I breathe deep. I stumble out of Mikhail's grasp toward Ezra.

Blood seeps into the grass. My heart pounds harder than ever before, pushing adrenaline through my veins. My vision blurs as tears sting my eyes.

In a single heartbeat, everything's changed.

Ezra blinks up at me as I collapse against his chest, falling hard into his lap. He groans, and I instantly try to backpedal once I realize he's hurt , but he'll have none of it. He wraps one arm around my waist and hoists me higher up his thighs, forcing me to straddle him.

"I hurt you." Panicked tears pool in the corners of my eyes. Andrei already has his palm pressed tightly over a gunshot wound to Ezra's shoulder, but I still apply my own pressure. "I shot you."

His voice rumbles low, his Russian accent thicker than usual on accord of the drugs in his system. "You saved me, lisichka ." He buries his face in the column of my throat, scraping coarse stubble across my skin. "I am still here. Feel me. Feel heart beating." He pulls my hand from his shoulder and buries it beneath the collar of his shirt, pressing my palm flat against his chest so that I can feel his heartbeat. But its beat shouldn't be that slow—if anything, he should be more concerned than he is. What if he isn't getting enough oxygen in his system—or what if he's so used to being shot, he doesn't realize how serious this one is—or what if?—

" Valentina. I am fine. Breathe with me."

Together, we breathe deep. So deep that it aches. He nestles his face in the crook of my neck the entire time, mumbling old Russian prayers. Each of them burrows beneath my skin, soft and sweet, just like they did when my mother used to recite them to me when I was a child. Ezra must have heard me recite them years ago while he stood outside my bedroom door, acting as my bodyguard. They're prayers of protection and healing, meant not for yourself, but for others. Not once did I ever expect to hear them from Ezra.

As he finishes the final one, he presses a tender kiss to my jawline. "You are safe, Valentina Violetta Baranova, no matter how far apart our hearts."

Even when he's the one bleeding, he's worried about me. My heart swells with love for this selfless man. He's always protected me over himself. I've always thought it was because his pakhan gave the order, but although his protection may have began that way, a bodyguard doesn't pray for his charge. They don't storm into enemy territory with a small army at their back for just anyone. He makes shrugging off a bullet wound look like it's just another day at the office when I know it hurts like hell. Not only that, he brushed hands with death moments ago.

He did all of that, and probably more than I'll ever know, for me.

The gravity of his vow has never felt more significant. I don't know how I ever took this man for granted before. Ezra. His name falls from my lips as a whisper. I don't know what to say. Nothing will ever be enough to show him how grateful I am.

Ezra lifts his eyes to mine, and everything that's ever been left unsaid passes between us with that single glance. He doesn't need words. He never has.

When he kisses me with a slow, purposeful press of his lips, I realize that I don't need words, either. Not when it comes to Ezra.

Our perfect moment of solace ends once we pull apart and reality sets back in.

I may have shot Ezra, but I killed Liam.

His body lies directly in front of me, fallen to the wayside after I sunk a handful of bullets into his guts. The henchman that held Ezra's arms behind his back is dead, too—Andrei shot him the same exact moment I shot Liam.

I keep staring at Liam, waiting for him to lunge at me. To choke me. Call me a whore. Grab the knife I plunged into his thigh and shove it between my ribs. To kill me, so that no one else can have me.

None of this feels real. Not the fact that Liam is dead—that Katya is dead—nor the fact that all of my men and I are alive and together again.

Andrei barks orders to armored guards, and within seconds, they drag away the henchman's body. Before they can move Liam, however, Mikhail holds up his hand to pause their advance. Crouching in front of my ex-boyfriend's corpse, he whistles. "Damn, Valentina, you took what I said earlier to heart. You got him four times, right in the chest. Wait, no, five if we count the forearm."

"I'm not counting anymore, Mikhail." Our eyes meet over Ezra's shoulder. "I'm done counting."

His lips twitch into a scowl. "I'm nowhere near done." He unsheathes a hunting knife strapped to his thigh and begins carving into Liam's body, muttering under his breath the entire time. Ezra picks up on what he's saying instantly, and the pair mumbles together in unison, counting in Russian.

I watch as Mikhail rolls Liam onto his back and digs the knife in deep, wherever he can find purchase, all across his body. Despite it being too late to cause the man pain, he makes a show of slicing into him, counting higher and higher until he reaches ninety-nine. Then his gaze flicks over to me. "Your turn."

Ezra releases me as Mikhail slides his hands under my armpits and pulls me into his lap. He presses the knife handle into my palm and wraps his hand around mine, securing the weapon in place. "One more, malyshka. The last one," he murmurs, kissing the soft spot behind my ear. "It'll feel good, I promise."

I've pictured stabbing Liam a thousand times. Cutting into the artery on his neck, or his thigh, or slicing off his balls one at a time and shoving them down his throat. Grotesque things I never would have imagined before. Things I never would have wanted.

But he hurt me, stole me, assaulted me. He tried to kill my men. He drugged Ezra, poisoned my grandmother, gaslit me for years, and still had the audacity to insist he loved me.

What a fucking nightmare.

I grip the knife tight and plunge the blade deep. Its tip is serrated and makes a hideous, wet sound as it carves through Liam's flesh. He can't feel it—but I can. Stabbing him in the thigh and thigh in the dining room was quick. A jab of anger as I plunged a switchblade into him. This, however, is slow, deliberate, and somehow . . . cathartic.

Mikhail helps me wedge the knife deeper, pushing it in between two of Liam's ribs to hit his heart. I wish it were still beating. I wish I could see the horror in his eyes as the woman he thinks he loves is the one to kill him.

In the end, I claimed his life, but not in the way I wanted. Not in the way I needed.

Somehow, Mikhail understands that.

I count the final number in my head while Mikhail murmurs it in my ear. Ezra rumbles it beside us, and even Andrei, watching the gory display from a few feet away, says the number aloud.

One hundred.

We leave the knife in his corpse.

"What happened to—" I pause mid-sentence, wondering if I should even ask about my grandmother's fate once she left the dining room. Knowing how angry my men have been with her, I can only imagine how they defiled her corpse. The kill was stolen from them, but disrespecting the dead woman's corpse is still within reach.

I take a deep breath. I'm done with being left in the dark. I need to know. "What did you do with Katya?"

Mikhail hums idly, appearing nonchalant as he leans back on his palms and tactfully to avoid touching the bloodstained patches of grass. "If you really want to know, I'll tell you."

"How bad is it?"

He shrugs, but a slow smile curves on his lips. "Could have been better in terms of finesse, but it will do for now. We'll have to retrieve her later for proof of her death, of course, but then we can properly decide what to do with her."

"Won't we bury her?"

Mikhail lifts an eyebrow. "Does she deserve to be buried?"

I realize that the decision is ours to make. I don't know if she had a preference upon or any legal documentation regarding her disposal upon her death, but even if she did, we don't have to follow them. Mikhail's father wasn't buried. My mother wasn't buried. Why should Katya be honored after the betrayals she committed?

"No," I ultimately decide. "No, she doesn't."

Ezra watches us silently while the medic patches up his shoulder as best they can. He'll need proper treatment from a doctor soon, but for now, stabilization for transport will suffice. They keep asking him triage questions in Russian, which he ignores. Lacing our fingers together, he tugs me back into his lap with his good arm, stealing me from Mikhail. "Tell me, lisichka , how do you feel?"

I cup Ezra's jaw and try to stay out of the medic's way. "I should be asking you that." In truth, I'm not sure how I feel, or how I should feel. All of my emotions jumble together, between the sorrow at losing people I once loved, the security of knowing that they won't harm us ever again, and the relief that we're going to be okay. "I feel . . ." I take a deep breath and assess the turbulence inside my heart. At my core, how do I feel?

The answer comes out on an exhale. "Relieved, more than anything." I scrub my hand across my eyes, expecting tears to rise, but none come. "I'm so relieved that you're alive—that you came to rescue me—that all of you are here. " I look over Ezra's shoulder to Andrei, who's speaking with the two medics crouched beside Riot. It's strange to see him without his face shield and to find that he's older than I thought, the faintest hint of gray peppering his dark beard, crow's feet crinkling around his eyes. He stares blankly ahead, either from a concussion or from the toxins in his system. "What did you say his name was?" In the blur between Liam's gun firing empty and mine unloading into his chest, one of our people made a run for the unconscious man at the back—the same man I sent to find my men, who followed my orders this past week without question or condemnation. The man I know as Riot.

Ezra clumsily tangles his fingers in my hair, pulling the strands as he undoes the loose knot keeping it all together. "He is Thanatos. He will be okay. Drug cannot break him."

The name Riot feels juvenile when compared to the name of a Greek god. I'd told Riot to go to the estate to get into contact with Andrei, but that if they weren't there, to find them at all costs, as soon as possible. He accomplished his mission in spades. "I asked him to find you."

Ezra nods. "He is former member of Bratva. He knows how we work, how we think."

Mikhail rolls his eyes. "He knows how you think. But me? I'm still an enigma—a tired enigma. Can we leave yet?" He palms at my leg, slowly sliding his hand up my thigh until the cool night air tickles my bare ass. "You deserve so much praise for getting rid of that mudak. I'd like to show the depth of my appreciation somewhere a little less . . ." He crinkles his nose. "Bloody. This place reeks." He turns his attention to the medic shining a light in Ezra's eyes. "Is he cleared yet?"

The medic glares at Mikhail. "Like I told Mr. Reinoff, he needs to go to a hospital. "

"No." Ezra lifts me from his lap and hands me off to Mikhail, then forces himself to his feet. His eyes glaze over until I put my hand in his, and with one strong pull, he lifts me to my feet. "We are finished."

"Mr. Reinoff?—"

"We are leaving ." He cuts the medic a harsh glare. "Take Thanatos and brother to Baranova compound."

The man kneeling beside Riot shares his sharp cheekbones and raven hair. If it weren't for Riot's huge muscles and peppered beard, they could almost pass as twins. Our eyes meet, and the stranger lifts his chin in my direction.

"I thought Riot— Thanatos —worked for my grandmother?"

Ezra grunts, following my gaze to where Riot lay unconscious. "No matter what he thinks, he is part of family. Cannot remove Bratva from blood." Sighing, Ezra pulls me against his side and drapes his good arm over my shoulder. "Let us go. Mikhail, bring car around."

Snapping his fingers, Mikhail orders someone else to fetch the car. "You are not driving. You can barely stand up! Let Valentina walk on her own, for fuck's sake. You're weighing her down."

Although it's true that Ezra is favoring his left side and leaning on me more than he likely intends, I wrap my arm around his waist and hold on tight. "Get his other side, Mikhail, and stop shouting."

Andrei reaches Ezra first, sliding under Ezra's injured arm with graceful ease. "C'mon, brother, let's get you to bed. You look like shit."

That earns a chuckle from the larger man. "You are missing chest plate. Did Valentina break clasp or did you forget it after fucking wife, hm?" He shakes his head. "Careless, pakhan. I cannot protect you all time."

My cheeks flush as I realize not only are they bantering, but they're casually discussing the sex Andrei and I had earlier. Ezra and Mikhail know .

"Don't look so shocked, malyshka . There's little we don't share." Mikhail, leading our way across the back lawn, tosses me a wink. "Your little tryst earlier was a much needed highlight to an otherwise dreary fucking week."

We weave through the upheaval across the gardens, stepping around overturned cement statues and over numerous masked bodies as we make our way through the back gate and onto the street. The entire area has been cordoned off, leaving a clear path for us. More armed guards swarm the area, but thankfully, we're left alone. We load into the back of an SUV, with Ezra squeezed in the middle between us all. There's enough room to sit apart, but none of us bother, instead taking up the entire back bench as we tangle our limbs together.

Well, as my men tangle their limbs around me.

Despite how ashen Ezra's complexion is and how often his eyelids flutter closed, he insists on holding me in his lap, banding his arms around my midsection stronger than any seatbelt. Mikhail weaves his ankle around mine and pulls my thighs apart so that he can slip a hand between them. I'm anticipating him teasing my clit, but he seems content to gently stroke my inner thigh while he peers out the window, a pensive look in his eye as we rumble down the city streets. Andrei takes Ezra's other side, cradling my arm across his chest while he kisses each of my knuckle bones, his gaze unfocused as he, too, loses himself in thought.

Now that we're alone, I can see the signs of exhaustion. The dark circles under their eyes. The way their heads hang low. How they don't say a word, or even look at each other.

The desire to curl up between the three of them hits hard, and I picture us sprawled out on the biggest, fluffiest, whitest bed I've ever seen. Sleeping. Waking up naked in their arms to a new world where the threat of Liam and Katya doesn't exist sounds fucking perfect.

"Where are we going?" I ask, leaning my head back against Ezra's shoulder.

It's Mikhail who speaks up, flicking his gaze towards me. As we pass orange streetlights, their glow highlights copper flecks in his eyes. He wakes up marginally as my question registers, a small smile playing on his lips. "One of our safe houses. I think you'll like this one."

"You always think she will like your things," Ezra grumbles, resting his chin on my shoulder.

"She does ," Mikhail huffs, pursing his lips. "My things, especially. I have taste , unlike the two of you. You'd put her in some cabin in the woods, I bet, claiming it's rustic. " His hand travels higher, teasing more sensitive skin than before. An electric buzz settles between my thighs. "I'll give Valentina the kind of views she needs to recover. Something truly beautiful—the kind of view that a queen deserves."

I try to imagine what a safe house might look like, but all that comes to mind is a concrete panic room, much like the room in the basement where Liam tore off my dress. I shiver at the memory, and Ezra rumbles a soothing shhh in my ear, kissing the curve of my neck.

Andrei remains the voice of reason. "We'll arrive soon enough, then Ezra needs to rest. He may have a concussion."

"Then he needs to stay awake," Mikhail counters, a glimmer sparking in his eye. "I know just the thing to keep his eyes open." His fingers travel higher, his knuckles pushing between my folds to brush against my clit, making me gasp. His copper eyes dance as we pass another streetlight, and the quick glimpse of his tongue sliding across his upper lip sends a rush of heat straight to my core.

"We've all missed you, malyshka . Isn't that right, boys?"

Andrei's attention drifts back to us, his weight shifting in his seat. He wraps his lips around one of my fingertips and teases it with his tongue. "Mmm. Very much."

An electric zing shoots up my spine as Mikhail applies more pressure to my clit, rubbing just hard enough to get my heart pumping. "I—I don't think this counts as resting. "

How any of us are horny after the clusterfuck that happened tonight is insane. Legitimately, it's crazy. We're crazy. Sex should be the last thing on our minds. But Andrei's cum keeps me wet, and even if it didn't, the way Mikhail flashes his canines as he slips a finger inside me definitely turns me on.

The car rolls to a stop, and he pops his glistening fingertip into his mouth, sucking it clean. " Mmm , just as sweet as I remember."

Andrei pushes open the car door and drags me out of Ezra's lap, setting me down on the ground outside. Sand kicks up around my ankles, and a cold ocean breeze blows right through me, whipping my dress across my thighs. I stare out at the dark, endless ocean, ink-black beneath an overcast sky.

The car doors slam once Mikhail and Ezra climb out. Mikhail places his hands on my shoulders and abruptly turns my body away from the crashing ocean waves. "Welcome to my favorite hideaway."

At first, all I see is the ocean, but that's impossible. It roars behind me, stronger than ever as a storm threatens to kick up. I stare at the impossible waves in front of me until I notice their edges—dark pockets of space on either side where they disappear into shadow.

The ocean doesn't have edges. It's endless.

The four of us move closer, my shoes catching on a wooden walkway hidden beneath a layer of sand. As we close in on the mirage, I realize what I'm actually looking at is a wall of glass. The raging ocean behind us reflects perfectly across it, so much so that when I reach out my hand, I expect to feel its icy spray across my skin. Instead, my fingertips press against an equally frigid wall, sending a tremor through my entire body.

"Get us inside before she freezes," Andrei hisses. If he weren't supporting Ezra's weight, I have no doubt either one of them would carry me inside. I catch his eyes in the glass reflection, and I try to smile around my chattering teeth.

" Shit , Valentina, hold on." Mikhail curses as he slams his palm on a camouflaged scanner. "Almost there." It takes three separate body scans to open the door, and then I'm ushered inside by three overbearing men. The house is nearly as cold inside as it is outside, and Mikhail quickly adjusts the thermostat and lights a gas fire in the fireplace.

Warmth floods into the room at the first flicker of flame, and I migrate over to the fireplace without pausing to look at our surroundings. I stare into the flames and hold my hands out, desperately waiting for the chill to seep out from my bones.

It isn't until I feel someone's hands on my waist and lips on the back of my neck that my pulse jumps from a frozen crawl back to a steady beat.

"I've missed you, malyshka ." Mikhail's hands travel lower, beneath the edge of my skirt to touch my skin. He's warm all over, radiating body heat through my dress and into my skin, hotter than any fire. "I've been going crazy thinking about you. We all have."

Even though I can't feel Ezra or Andrei nearby, I have no doubt that they're watching, listening. "I've missed you, too. So much." My heart aches at how much I've missed the three of them. Part of me believed I'd see them again, but another deeper, darker part didn't. My throat aches as I swallow a sudden wave of sorrow despite knowing that the feeling of abandonment shouldn't matter anymore. They are here. They chose to find me, despite the risks. Despite how much it cost them. Despite how much it hurt them.

I draw a breath as Mikhail unzips my dress from behind. The air is still chilled, pebbling my nipples, and I bite my bottom lip as a needy ache blooms deep inside my body, starting in my chest and spreading between my legs, as both my heart and my body crave to be filled.

I need their love. Their touch. Their everything.

As my dress falls to the hardwood floor, I step out and turn around. Andrei's eyes reflect the flames, his gaze burning as he reclines in an armchair a few feet away. Ezra sits back on a couch facing the fireplace, his muscled arms thrown across its back. Both of them have shed most of their clothes, suddenly wearing nothing but matching black boxers and t-shirts. Like Andrei, Ezra's eyes are wide open as he drinks in my body.

Mikhail hums in approval. "That's right, love, keep your eyes on Ezra. Make sure he stays awake." His thumbs trace circles along my waist as he sucks on my neck, creating a twin hickey beside Andrei's from earlier. Another zing goes straight to my clit as he nips with his teeth, making me gasp.

Andrei leans forward, resting his forearms over his knees. "Show us how much you missed us, baby. Let us hear it."

As Mikhail's hands cup my breasts and he flicks his thumbs against my nipples, I can't stop the moan that breaks free. All three of my men groan in unison, and it's one of the sexiest fucking sounds I've ever heard.

"Do that again," Ezra rasps, "and I will stay up all night to hear."