Chapter 20

Viktor

CHAPTER TWENTY

The next few weeks with Lydia feel like a passing dream.Sometimes, I fear that I'm going to open my eyes and she'll be gone. I don't want it to be that way. I'm not sure I could stop it if I tried. Still, I don't take any of this for granted.

The days with her begin to unfold, turning into weeks. Despite the fact that both Lydia and Aria spend hours trying to anticipate the next attack planned by the Ledyanoye Bratstvo, we find no conclusive evidence that they're going to move soon. It might seem like they've shifted their focus.

I know better, though. We can't grow complacent. One of the biggest mistakes we could make is letting our guard down.

So I don't. And Lydia doesn’t fucking like it, but I don’t care.

It helps that she has a job here with me and my family. My job is of a physical nature—I’m the group heavy. I’m the one everyone comes to when they need a heavy hand or muscle. All of my brothers can hold their own, but no one does it quite like I do. That means Lydia gets to accompany me, for better or for worse.

For better or for fucking worse.

There’s no use pretending to be someone other than who I really am. When we marry each other, we accept each other for who we are completely, no holds barred. I never understood how anyone would bother doing any less.

I’m going to make it worth her while, though. I swear I am. I’m trying now.

“Alright, so let’s go over what you’ve learned.”

I’ve given her a crash course in basic self-defense that Kolya taught all of us: escape holds and grabs, situational awareness, defense maneuvers, and the use of everyday objects. There’s no time to teach her to shoot.

“Okay,” she says, standing in front of me in a fighting stance. She’s wearing a hot-pink tank top, black leggings, and sneakers. She’s lucky I need to teach her, or I’d tear those off and fuck her right up against the side of the house. “Use the flat of my palm or a hard kick against vulnerable areas if I can—eyes, nose, throat, and groin.”

I nod. “Go on.”

“Don’t lose my shit if someone’s got me in a hold but focus on escaping. Pay attention to the surroundings and use what I can to my advantage.”

I don’t want her to have to use the skills I taught her. I want her self-defense moves to be an absolute last fucking resort.

Still, she needs to know.

“Like?” I test, my eyes boring into hers.

“Like if we’re near the fire pit. Push them off kilter so their foot hits the drain grate, then shove them into the fire like the wicked witch in Hansel and Gretel.” Her eyes gleam, and she grins at me.

I grin back. “You’ve given this some thought.”

“Yes, sir,” she says in a seductive purr. Good thing she just talked about kicking the groin, or I’d be hard as fuck right now.

“Go on about escape.”

“Stay calm. Shout for help as loud as I can. Use my screaming voice.” She winks. “Strike if possible, lower my center of gravity, turn, and face my attacker.”

“Excellent.” Pride swells in my chest. “That’s my girl. What else?”

“Use everyday objects if possible. Pens, keys, my handbag weighted down with the latest spree at Sephora.”

I nod. “Excellent.”

Nikita paws at the back door, jealous of the attention I’m giving to Lydia.

“Take a walk?”

“Mhm.”

I get Nikita’s leash, and we walk downtown, Nikita obediently heeling by my side. We stop at a stoplight, and Lydia bends down to scratch Nikita's ears.

I thought I loved Lydia before she moved in here. But now that she loves my dog, I’m fucking gone.

“I was thinking of making chicken parm for dinner,” she says casually.

“That makes me fucking hard,” I tease her.

She grins at me. “I never met a man who was turned on by the food he ate.”

“Not turned on by the food I eat. I’m turned on watching you cook it.”

“Oh, I get it. Satisfying all the appetites and all that?”

“Mhm. That sounds delicious. On Friday night, when we’re planning the final details, we’ll go out to dinner. Sound good?”

I don’t cook. I eat. And if I’m not with someone who can cook, I order in. I had a private chef for a while, but I didn’t like it. I don’t like anybody in my space except Lydia. It’s her space too.

All of a sudden, Nikita's ears go back. Her hair bristles, and she lets out a low, dangerous growl.

Lydia stands up straight. “What did I do? I thought she loved me.”

“Behind me,” I growl. “It’s not you.”

Lydia’s eyes widen, and for once, she does what I say, thank fuck. I scan our surroundings. At first, I don’t notice anything out of place. Just a normal night in the city. But Nikita growls deeper and lets out a loud, vicious bark.

Suddenly, a masked assailant leaps out from a doorway, followed by three more. They’re masked, hooded, and coming straight at us.

Lydia stiffens, a scream caught in her throat, and I bark over my shoulder, “Remember what I fucking taught you.”

One attacks us head-on, gun raised. I know in my gut these guys aren’t here to murder but to take her. A second reaches for me, a gun glinting in the overhead light. Before he shoots, Nikita is on him. She’s got him by the leg with a savage snarl.

I elbow the second attacker in one swift motion, putting all my strength behind it. I hear a satisfying crunch as bone breaks, and he cries out, falling to the ground and clutching his face. The third barely has time to reach before I land a punch squarely between his eyes, sending him backward.

The fourth is one lucky son of a bitch still standing, still defiant. I want to beat the fucking shit out of him with my bare hands, but I need someone to interrogate. There’s a dark, primal satisfaction in the idea of feeling his bones break under my fists, his blood staining my knuckles.

The air is thick with the scent of sweat and fear. One reaches for Lydia, and I can’t get to him in time, but her eyes blaze with a fury that matches my own. She knees him hard between the legs, and when he crumples to the ground with a pained groan, she stabs at his eyes.

Good girl.

The sharp crack of a gunshot rings in my ears. Nikita cries out. Rage surges through my veins, hot and unrelenting. My vision narrows, and all I see is red.

“Keep one alive,” I remind myself. I hang onto the one lifeline that keeps me from murdering them all. I’m battling the need to kill, to make them all pay.

I grab the nearest one by the throat, slamming him against the wall. He’s the only one conscious, his wide, terrified eyes staring into mine with a plea for mercy. The need to protect, to unleash my fury on him, wars with my need to get information.

“Why did you come after us?” I demand, my face inches from his. “Where the fuck are you coming from, and who do you report to?” He chokes out a weak, garbled response, and I loosen my grip just enough for him to speak.

Over my shoulder, I yell to Lydia, “Get my cell phone. Call Aleks and tell him to get a cleanup crew, now.”

I hold him by the neck, but before he can get another word out, his head flings back, hitting the concrete, and a circle of crimson blossoms on the center of his forehead.

Lydia screams. I drop his body to the ground, shove her down, and cover her under my body. Fucking sniper. But no more shots come.

He was the target because I would have made him talk.

Someone killed him. Someone’s watching. Someone doesn’t want me to know what they’re doing. Fuck.

A car pulls up, and I'm immediately alert, but Lydia breathes out, “It's Aleks.”

Aleks and a team of our men quickly exit the vehicle. Aleks has been training two of the old Ivanov men, and they’re here to help us, and they move in quick succession.

“They got away,” I say. “But there’s a sniper here, Aleks. He wants us scared but isn’t ready to make a move.”

“We’ll cover every possible area to see where they could be hiding. I want everything swept.”

It isn’t until the scuffle ends, with our attackers either incapacitated or fled, that I notice the blood on Nikita’s fur.

Lydia kneels beside Nikita, her hands trembling as she parts the dog’s thick, black fur. “She’s bleeding,” she says, her voice breaking. There is a small, trickling wound on Nikita’s side, but it isn’t immediately clear what caused it.

“Is Nikita okay?” Lydia asks, her eyes filling with tears and her face flushed. Is she crying? I can't tell if she's crying. “She’ll be okay, right? She’s bleeding, Viktor.”

“Are you alright?” I ask, even as a lump forms in my throat when I kneel beside them.

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” Lydia says, though her hand is shaking.

I turn back to Nikita.

Shit. Nikita was hit. Fuck. My hands tremble. If someone hurt my dog… If someone fucking hurt my dog…

“Where’s the entry point?” I mutter, frustration and fear clawing at me. I examine her closely, expecting to see a bullet wound. But there’s nothing obvious, just the slow, persistent oozing of blood from somewhere beneath her dense fur.

Lydia’s fingers are gentle but thorough as she probes around the wound. “It looks like the bullet grazed her,” she says, sounding relieved. “But the fur is so thick, it's hard to tell exactly where it hit.”

It makes sense. The bullet likely skimmed across Nikita’s side, slicing through fur and skin without fully penetrating. The impact would have been enough to cause pain and bleeding but not the catastrophic damage I feared. Her fur, matted with blood, hides the exact entry point, making it difficult to see the full extent of the injury.

Lydia does a quick assessment. “She’s breathing fine, but she seems like she’s in pain.” Her hands are steadying now as she gently presses around the area. “We need to get her to the vet to make sure there’s no deeper injury. Let’s get her to the vet, Viktor.”

I have to make a choice—vet for Nikita or safety for Lydia.

“You to safety first, then the vet.”

Lydia is crying, swiping at her eyes. “She was defending us.”

“She’ll be fine,” I say, hoping that if I say it enough times, it’ll become true.

Lydia looks up, her eyes lighting up. “Harper said Vera got in last night. My sister will know what to do. Even though she deals with human patients, a lot of her knowledge should transfer to pets.”

“Where is she?”

“At your mom’s.”

“Let’s get her to come to our place. We shouldn’t move Nikita too much. Let’s bring her there.”

She makes a call. “Please, have Vera come to Viktor’s.”

We load Nikita into the back of Aleks's car. I sit beside Aleks while Lydia holds Nikita's head in her lap. She strokes her beautiful black fur and wipes her eyes.

As we drive, Lydia keeps Nikita’s head in her lap, stroking her fur and whispering reassurances. Every so often, she glances at the wound, trying to see if there is more we can do. But the graze, while bloody, seems to be just that—a surface wound that hasn’t penetrated deeply.

I hope.

“I hate him,” Lydia whispers. “This is part of his game, isn’t it?” she says, her voice trembling. “Any new developments, Aleks? Give me something to decipher, for fuck’s sake.”

“This is the first one,” Aleks says. “Aria will send local blueprints. Might be able to find where the sniper was hiding.”

She shakes her head. “Fucking bastard, he’s such a coward. I hate him.”

“Me too.”

By the time we get back to the house, Nikko is on the phone. “We are ten minutes away. Anything else we need to know?”

“Her breathing is shallow,” Aleks says. “I can’t see where she was injured, but there’s blood on the seat. She doesn’t look good.”

Lydia doesn't let go easily. She’s messed up. So am I, but damn it. Was she shot? She had to be.

Back at my house, we get Nikita situated on the couch. Lydia sits with her head in her lap, and Nikko and Vera arrive.

“Vera,” Lydia says. When she blinks, fat tears roll down her cheeks. Poor girl. She’s traumatized by this. And, of course, she gets one look at her sister and her wild emotions surface. Who can blame her?

Vera walks in, all business. Her hair is tied up in a crazy knot on the top of her head. You can barely tell they’re sisters. Lydia is all curves and feminine allure, while Vera has an intelligent grace about her, different from Lydia. But Lydia’s eyes are wide and wet, and there’s a little dimple on both their chins. The intelligence in their eyes and freckled noses tell me they’re sisters. Vera runs to Lydia, wraps her arms around her, and gives her a fierce hug.

“I’m so sorry I couldn’t come sooner.”

“You were in Alaska,” Lydia says, smiling. “I’m just glad you’re here now. This is Nikita.”

When Vera kneels in front of Nikita, Nikita growls at her. She’s afraid, poor thing. I kneel beside her and stroke my thumb over her pretty head. “It’ll be okay, girl. She’s gonna take care of you. It’s gonna be okay.” As I gently stroke her head, Lydia begins to cry.

Vera takes her vitals. “Let’s take a look. You think she was shot?”

She carefully cleans the wound, searching for any sign of a bullet fragment. “It’s tricky,” she says, frowning. “The fur is thick, and the skin is tough. It looks like the bullet just grazed her, but I can’t find an entry point either.”

I watch as she works, my heart still pounding with worry. Nikita lies still, her eyes closing in exhaustion but her breathing steady. The wound, hidden by her thick coat, is minor compared to what it could have been. But the uncertainty, the not knowing, gnaws at me.

“We’ll take her to the vet,” I say firmly. “Make sure there’s nothing we’ve missed.”

Vera frowns. “Agreed. I’m trained in medical science, specifically for trauma response,” she tells me. “I don’t know much about veterinary care, but I’ll do my best to stabilize her. We need to get her to a veterinary hospital immediately.”

“Of course.”

“I’ll call,” Lydia says. “Aria will be able to get us an emergency vet sooner than anyone else could.” She’s reluctant to leave Nikita’s side. I suspect she feels somehow responsible for this. She isn’t, though. I know she isn’t.

A moment later, Lydia looks up. “I’ve got a vet’s name,” she says. “It’s thirty minutes out.”

She looks at me, her eyes wide. “Do you think this is part of the plan, Viktor? Hurt Nikita so we have to take her to the vet, then chase us?”

I nod. “I do. Or put us off guard. Shake us.”

She gets to her feet, her eyes alight with fire. “No fucking way are we being shaken. No way!”

I can’t help myself. I reach for her, wrap my hand around the back of her neck, and kiss her hard. Vera blinks, watching us with wide eyes.

Aleks stands with his hands on his hips. “I’m on it,” he says. “We’ll go together.”

It takes longer than I’d like, but all of my brothers come in force. Three armored cars line up outside. We move as one. Vera sits with Lydia in the backseat of the car I drive, Nikita between them. She lazily licks Vera’s hand, and Vera bends and kisses her.

“Elevate her head,” Vera says. “Just like that. You’re doing great, Lydia.”

Lydia sniffles, wiping at her cheeks. In the rearview mirror, I see Vera take her hand and give it a gentle squeeze. “You’re doing great,” she says again, her voice firm, and it hits me that she’s not just talking about this incident.

“Feels like we’re VIPs,” Lydia says with a sad smile. “Like someone’s coming to bring the president to the airport.”

“As it should be, of course,” Vera says with a smile. “Nikita’s invaluable. We need her here with us.”

She leans down and kisses the top of Nikita’s head. Nikita’s eyes close, and my heart thunders in my chest. “Vera,” I say, panic in my voice.

“She’s okay, Viktor. She’s tired.”

“I’ll get your car cleaned,” I tell Aleks.

“I don’t fucking care about the car,” he says. “I’ve got that all under control. You worry about her.” I don’t ask him which her he’s referring to. They are both my world.

We finally get to the emergency vet. When we enter, there are only two other people in the waiting room: a little girl with a sick kitten on her lap and an older woman with a greyhound that looks like it has a broken leg. The staff runs to greet us.

“This way, Mr. Romanov,” one of them says, ushering me, Vera, Lydia, and Nikita into a nearby room. My brothers take over the waiting room.

Vera takes charge. “My name is Vera Romanova. Medical-trained doctor”

“I know who you are,” the vet says, extending her hand. “It’s an honor to meet you, Dr. Romanova.”

There’s pride in Lydia’s eyes as she smiles.

“We suspect a gunshot but have been unable to find an entry point.”

The vet nods as if this were just another day, people bringing in dogs with gunshot wounds. “I see.” She takes Nikita’s vitals. “Her breathing is shallow. I’m going to put her to sleep, Mr. Romanov,” she says.

Panic must show in my eyes because she quickly shakes her head, and Lydia squeezes my hand.

“Temporarily. I’m so sorry; I should have clarified. I’ll give her something to rest and to alleviate the pain.”

I swallow and nod as she slides a needle under Nikita’s skin, and Nikita’s breathing slows. I stare, unblinking, my heart pounding when Lydia’s hand slips into mine with gentle reassurance.

“A graze wound,” she says, examining Nikita. “It can be tricky with animals, especially with thick fur like this. It looks worse than it is, but we’ll clean it thoroughly and keep her overnight for observation.”

“Oh, thank God.” Lydia turns to me and buries her head on my chest, her shoulders shaking. I cup the back of her head, and my heart warms. She loves Nikita, just like I do. Vera watches over us, her own eyes shining.

“I think you should keep her here for the night, just for observation. We will call you if anything changes.”

“We will stay here.” I’m not leaving Nikita, and I suspect Lydia agrees.

Lydia shakes her head, whispering to me. “I don’t trust her apart from us, Viktor,” she says. “This was intentional. We’re playing right into their hands. If we stay here, we’re sitting ducks.”

The vet’s eyes widen, but Vera quickly assures her. “It’s not you they don’t trust. But Lydia is right. I’ll go back with them, and I’ll know what to do if there are any changes with Nikita.”

The vet prescribes some medication, and slowly, one by one, we leave.

As we leave the vet, I feel a wave of relief. Nikita will be fine. She’s been hit but not seriously injured.

We’ve been lucky this time.

But we need to stay vigilant. Our enemies are out there, watching, waiting for their next move.