Chapter 18

Chapter

Eighteen

"What she did not realize is the dream was only the start of a long nightmare."

― Jason Medina

Volk

Tanya Petrova, a delicate and mysterious woman, was a sight to behold.

In the streets, you might mistake her for a young girl, not a forty-four-year-old woman who sold her body for a living. Her blonde hair cascaded like a veil, her skin as pale as moonlight. But behind that delicate exterior was a woman with a very mysterious past.

Rumors swirled about her.

Some said she struck a deal with the devil for eternal youth, others whispered about a vengeful spirit's curse. Her mismatched eyes—one blue, one brown—fuelled whispers of witchcraft.

Tanya entered prostitution after a tragic turn in her life. Her lame husband was murdered by a neighbor who found out he had impregnated his wife. In a rage, the neighbor shot him, slit his throat, and left his headless body in their yard.

With no other way to survive, Tanya ended up on Igor's payroll.

But it was Vlad who offered her an escape from the brothel's grime.

As Dve parked the SUV, I stared at Tanya's small brick house with its white fences and red roses climbing the walls.

What fucking secrets lay behind those walls?

"I don't think Vlad's here. Marina lied to you," Dve murmured.

I lit a cigarette, its glowing tip dancing in the air. Taking a deep drag, I rolled my shoulders, seeking relief. Cigarettes were my only sanity these days, the only thing that could clear my mind from that infuriating, feisty brunette who wouldn't leave me alone. Thoughts of Sofiya's body—her ass, tits, mouth—kept creeping in.

Fuck.

I took another drag, hoping the smoke would calm my racing mind. I wanted her so badly it consumed me day and night, and that pissed me off even more.

I shrugged. "I know she did."

Dve frowned. "Then why the fuck are we here?"

I grabbed the folded picture from my pocket and handed it to Dve.

Inhaling one last time, I opened the door and tossed my cigarette. The cold air smelled of burning chimney.

It was past midnight, and the world seemed asleep. Or so it appeared.

No lights shone from Tanya's place, but I knew she was there. Waiting.

"Volk, I don't get it," Dve said, handing back the photo.

I took one last look at the picture before pocketing it.

"You think that's the same house?"

I nodded. "It is."

I found the picture a couple of nights ago in the study, which is why I invited Marina to dinner. Hidden between two dusty books, The Captain's Daughter by Pushkin and Le Horla by Maupassant, it fell to the floor when I reached for the first book.

Black and white, it showed a young girl in the arms of a man with his face scratched out. She clutched a small box adorned with a tiny cross.

The man stood proudly in front of a house. Tanya's house. I was sure of it.

Marina always sprinkled some truth into her lies. When Tanya's name slipped from her lips, it wasn't for nothing. I had someone keeping tabs on Marina. She regularly sneaked off to that house, always late at night.

Vlad might not be around, but tonight I'd know where he's hiding.

Anger flared thinking about what Marina might have told Sofiya.

Marina was right though; Sofiya was too innocent, too fragile for this world.

I cursed Igor for putting her in my path.

Sometimes, I could hear Sofiya crying or pacing in her room, and it sparked a feeling I hadn't felt in ages: guilt.

The other night, I overheard her muttering something strange: "Dear Lord, the day I die, make it glorious, so the stars above will welcome me as their own."

Was she into astrology?

"Wait in the car."

"But, Volk…"

Ignoring him, I crossed the street and approached her front door. As I pushed it open, a heavy silence engulfed me, like a weight on my shoulders.

The house was too fucking quiet.

Gun in hand, I took a few steps, ready for anything.

Slipping through the dark hallway, I searched for Tanya. The floorboards creaked beneath my feet, sweat trickling down my forehead.

Damn, it was too fucking hot in here.

My eyes scanned the shadows.

Suddenly, a sound emerged from the bedroom.

I froze, gun ready.

As I approached the door, my heart hammered, adrenaline blasting through my veins. I took a deep breath and shoved it open, gun at the ready.

There she was, across the room, her own gun trained on me.

The tension was fucking electric.

Her eyes had that same steely look I'd seen in our men—the kind that says you've seen some serious shit and you've got nothing left to lose.

We stood there, frozen, guns aimed straight at each other. The silence was suffocating, just the sound of our heavy breathing breaking through. Neither of us was about to back down. And I sure as hell wasn't going to.

She was dressed in a long, lacy black dress, her hair a mess around her face. Her red lips were smeared, and her eyeliner was streaked from recent tears.

In that moment, it hit me: Tanya was more than I'd been led to believe .

She was buried in darkness, and I was only scratching the surface.

"You're late," she spat, her gun now pointed directly at my head.

"Sorry for the delay, Your Highness," I shot back. "But your shady dealings will have to wait till tomorrow."

"They may be shady, but I've heard about you, Volk," she said, tilting her head and flashing a smirk that revealed a faint dimple. "You've got quite the reputation for liking a good whore."

"And I also have a taste for lifeless bodies at my feet."

"You could never kill me," she said, her laughter filling the room.

"Oh, don't underestimate me, Tanya."

The room fell silent. Then, out of nowhere, a car honked. The loud sound snapped us out of our intense stare, reminding us there was a world beyond these walls. We both instinctively turned toward the noise, momentarily distracted.

"You work for the wrong people, Volk," she said suddenly, her grip on the gun unwavering.

"The wrong people?" I scoffed. "Fuck you, Tanya. You and your little gang of whores."

"At least I'm not the one killing innocent people," she retorted, her eyes narrowing. "That's your game, Volk. And Igor's."

What the fuck is she talking about?

"You have no idea what you're talking about," I spat, stepping toward her. "You're just a spoiled brat."

Her expression hardened, and she lowered her gun slightly, aiming at my heart, her finger on the trigger. "And you have sold your soul to the devil himself. "

We stood there, guns pointed at each other. One wrong move could mean the end of either of us.

I smirked. "You think you're tough, don't you?"

Her eyes narrowed further, finger twitching on the trigger. "Shut up, Volk. You don't know anything about me or what I've been through."

"Oh, I know plenty," I sneered, stepping closer. "Cheating husband, murderous neighbors, cheap sex." I took another step, holstering my gun. "You've got quite the reputation."

I closed the distance until the barrel of her gun pressed against my chest, right over my heart. Towering over her, I lowered my chin to meet her eyes—one blue, one brown.

Her lips trembled, a sob breaking free. "I was the one who killed him. The bastard deserved it."

This conversation was starting to bore me, and I didn't have time to lose.

"I don't give a fuck." I grabbed her gun, lowering it. "Where is Vlad?"

Her eyes widened. "What do you mean, where is Vlad?"

"You know exactly what I mean. I've been searching for him for weeks, and I know he's been contacting you."

Tanya hesitated, searching for an escape. But I wasn't letting her off the hook.

"I don't know where he is," she whispered. "He contacted me a few days ago, but he was secretive. I didn't ask any questions, I swear."

I narrowed my eyes. "What did he want?"

"He wanted to meet," she said, her voice trembling. "But he wouldn't say why. He just told me to meet him at a bar downtown."

I released her gun and stepped back. "Do you know which bar? "

Tanya shook her head. "No, I'm sorry. He didn't give me any specifics."

A faint breeze drifted through the open windows, and I could see her skin shiver.

I sighed, frustrated. I knew she was fucking lying.

"Why was there a picture of your house in Igor's study?"

Her eyes widened in panic and confusion as she scrambled for an explanation. The room was dead silent, the only sounds were our breathing and the occasional creak of the floorboards.

As I waited for her answer, a chill ran down my spine. Something was off. But damn it, I was going to get to the bottom of it, no matter what. Hell, if I had to dig up everything myself, I would.

Finally, she spoke, her voice barely above a whisper. "Vlad is the one who bought me this house."

I studied her carefully. Her story sounded plausible, but I didn't believe a word.

"Tell me the fucking truth, Tanya."

Her hesitation was obvious, uncertainty flickering in her eyes. It was clear she was weighing her options, contemplating her next move. After a moment, she seemed to make up her mind, let out a deep breath, and dropped her gun to the ground.

She approached the black canopy bed in the corner, her footsteps echoing in the stillness. With a heavy sigh, Tanya sat down, her hands nervously fidgeting in her lap. It was as if she was psyching herself up for something big. Finally, she looked up at me.

"I'll tell you what I know," she mumbled, bringing her hands to her face. "But you have to promise me something first."

I raised an eyebrow, curious. I fucking hated ultimatums. But I'd never taken her for the type to give one, so I listened. "Go ahead."

"You have to promise me you won't hurt her," she said, her voice trembling slightly. "I may have made some bad choices, but I can't have her blood on my hands."

"Who are you talking about?"

Just as tension reached its peak, my phone buzzed in my jacket. I pulled it out to see a text from Dve, probably bored and wondering what was happening. Damn it, his timing couldn't have been worse.

I arched an eyebrow, signaling her to speak.

"Helena," she choked out, her voice barely audible. "Please… don't kill her."

What?

My whole body froze. "Helena Melov?"

Sofiya's mother.