Chapter 22: Vlad

Chapter 21 – Sienna

With a slight groan, my eyes fluttered open as I regained consciousness. My vision was still blurry, and there was a ringing in my ears. My head hurt like this was the morning after a late-night party—it felt like a hangover but worse. My body was weak, and all my bones seemed to be aching.

The heaviness of my head was literally weighing me down, affecting my ability to think. Wincing at my aches, I tried to reach for my temple but realized that my hands were zip-tied to the chair I was strapped to.

"What the hell?" I struggled with the restraints but to no avail.

What's going on? Where am I?

I was fully conscious now, panicking as I took in the surroundings. I was alone in a dimly lit room with only one source of light: the small window behind me, through which dusky rays penetrated. A few paces in front of me, there was a red door, and it turned out that I had roommates, a few rats scurrying here and there. I hated rats. The room reeked so terribly, like I was down in a sewer, and it was nearly impossible to breathe.

Okay, what's going on here? I wondered, shaking with fear.

It would appear that you've been kidnapped, Sia, one of my voices said.

What?

What's the last thing you remember? the other one asked.

Shit.

The last thing I remembered was the man who had injected me with…whatever the hell that was.

That explains why you're so weak.

Wake up. You're dreaming, Sienna. Wake up, I thought to myself.

Unfortunately, you're wide awake, and you've been kidnapped, my voice of reason said. The question is: Who would want to kidnap you, and why?

I think what we should be thinking about right now is how to get her out of here—she's pregnant for Christ's sake, said the other voice.

You're right, the reasonable one agreed. Okay. Where do you think we are, and how the fuck do we get free from these zip ties? Then there's the issue of who's outside that door….

"Hello, Sienna," a thick voice said, interrupting my thoughts.

It came from a shadowy corner to my right, and I jerked in my chair, alarmed. "Who's there?"

The air was filled with the scent of cigarettes, mixed with a rich smell of cologne—although the foul stench of the room was stronger.

I could see the red tip of the man's cigar burning in the shadows, and soon, he let out a puff of smoke.

"Who are you?" I asked, fear-stricken. "Why did you kidnap me?"

I watched him step out of the shadows, unmasked, with the cigar hanging off his lips. He was no older than Vlad or my dad. The man was huge, with a pair of gray eyes that matched the color of his hair. His beard was perfectly trimmed, and he was dressed up in a black jacket over a pair of jeans.

"Who are you?" I repeated, now knowing that he was a complete stranger.

"My name is Andy," he replied.

I swallowed hard, knowing this was not a good sign. He'd shown me his face, and now, he'd just told me his name. This meant he had no plans of letting me live after this.

My heart was pounding in my chest as though it was about to jump out of my ribcage.

"What do you want with me, Andy?" I managed to ask.

"You?" He took a step closer, a twig snapping beneath his boots. "Nothing. I have no beef with you." He unsheathed a blade.

I flinched, pulling away as he flashed it in my face.

"You're not the enemy, Sienna," he said.

For a second there, I felt a wind of relief, but then again, it didn't make any sense.

He bent over and pointed his dagger at my stomach. "The Wolkov in your belly is."

"What?" My eyes widened instantly, and reflexively, I resumed my struggle to get out of the chair, even though it seemed impossible.

He laughed and stepped back. "Try all you want. You're not getting out of that chair."

I continued for the next few seconds and then paused and glared at him, angry and afraid at the same time. "Why are you doing this?!" I snapped.

"You're a fighter; that's good," he replied. "At least this is gonna be fun."

"Fun?" I narrowed my brows at him. "You kidnapped a pregnant woman and are planning to harm the child in her womb, and you call that fun ? Why would you do that?"

"To get back at Vladimir Wolkov!" He raised his voice so high that I trembled at the reaction.

"Hang on…Vlad?" Shock flickered in my gaze. "What's he got to do with this?"

"Everything," he growled. "Vladimir Wolkov is the reason you're in this situation…you and that thing in your belly." He pointed that knife in my direction again.

All I could see in his eyes was anger, rage, and resentment. The man seemed to be carrying a lot of pain, and that was the fuel of his hatred.

"I will show no mercy to you or your unborn child…just like he didn't show any mercy when he killed my brother, Joshua, and his one-month-old child," he said, his voice biting.

"What?" I couldn't believe my ears.

"You're pregnant with the baby of the devil himself, Sienna," he said. "You see, Vlad has no heart, and he is incapable of love. I'll be doing the baby a favor by not letting it meet its father."

The name Andy had mentioned rang a bell in my head, and I was trying to recall where I'd heard it; then, it clicked. My mind raced back to the old picture of Dad with Vlad and a young man Babushka had said was called Joshua but that he had died early.

"Wait a minute, Joshua, as in Vlad's friend? They were friends, weren't they?" I asked.

He laughed. "Last time I checked, friends don't kill each other. Vlad knows nothing about friendship, and for someone who's so keen on loyalty, he lacks it."

"I saw their picture—"

"I don't care what you saw in the photo!" he snapped. "Vlad killed my brother… murdered him in cold blood, and he didn't stop there. He killed his one-month-old baby as well. He's a monster!"

I knew Vlad was cruel and ruthless, but killing a baby? That was next-level wickedness. Was he truly heartless? How could he do such an inhumane act and still shut his eyes at night to sleep?

My heart was bleeding at this shocking revelation, and tears welled in my eyes. My lips quivered as I struggled not to break down crying. There was a pit in my stomach, and it was growing deeper by the second.

"Do you know?" he continued. "We didn't even find their bodies. He must have burned them and warmed up his hands in the cruel, cold weather. Is this man you want to father your child?"

His question struck me like lightning, and I immediately started to have a rethink. If Vlad was capable of killing an infant, he truly was far gone.

This explained my grandmother's resentment toward him; he was evil, and the man who I'd once felt safe around was suddenly the devil I didn't want to have around me.

Vlad may be the devil himself, but right now, Andy is no angel. He's going to kill you and the baby you're carrying if you don't do something real fast, my voice of reason said.

But what can I do now at this point? I'm strapped to a fucking chair.

"Listen, Andy, you really don't have to do this. You don't have to hurt anyone to prove a point."

"Oh, but I do," he said, coming closer. "You see, Vlad isn't the only person you're connected to that's involved in this." He bent over to look me in the eye. "Looks like dear old Dad isn't the man you think he is, either."

My dad? No!

"What—what're you talking about?" I stuttered.

"Your father isn't just Vlad's best friend; he was his accomplice in the murder of my brother and his child."

Hearing him say those words hurt more than I thought it would, and I couldn't hold back my tears anymore. Everything was happening so fast, and it was scary. I loved and idolized my dad, so you can imagine how shocked I was to find out that he was just as bad, just as guilty as Vlad. This ripped my heart apart and messed with my head.

I tried to fathom what was happening, but I couldn't—tried to find and make excuses for my dad, but there were none. Now, me and the baby in my womb were in grave danger for something we knew nothing about. We were at the mercy of this man, but with how much rage I saw boiling in his eyes, I knew he would show everything but mercy.

I had to do something—to try something, at least.

He rolled the blade over his fingers, and I watched the killer in him take the wheel. His face was squeezed into a frown, and his grip around the hilt of his blade tightened.

"The sins of the father have caught up with you," he said with finality.

As he raised his hand over me, ready to strike, I was overwhelmed by a survival instinct. I didn't know I'd done it at first, but with the adrenaline pumping through me, I kicked him hard in the groin. He groaned, reflexively dropping the knife as he bent to grab his balls in pain.

Considering how close he was to me, I threw my head back, and with everything in me, I slammed my forehead into his face. The impact was so powerful that he dropped to the ground with a loud thud .

The collision had hurt my head, but it hurt him more, and I could see that he was in pain, serious pain.

"Bitch! You fucking broke my nose," he grunted, slapping a hand over it as it bled uncontrollably.

I struggled with the chair, but to avail.

He rose to his feet, burning with anger as the will to kill glared in those eyes.

Uh-oh, now he's pissed.

"You're feisty, I'll give you that." He wiped the back of his hand over his nose, spat out a glob of blood on the ground, and stepped forward. "But nothing and no one can save you from me now!"

He launched an attack at me—a defenseless woman, tied to a chair.

I knew there was no hope for me.

I shut my eyes as he raised the dagger in the air. Any second now, I'd be dead; my life would be cut short, and all my dreams would be gone in a flash. My aspirations would vanish just like that, poof , into thin air. But it wasn't really myself that I was worried about; I was more concerned about the child in my womb. This innocent child wouldn't even get to be born; its life would be terminated as vengeance for the sins of its father.

I'm so sorry, sweetheart , I thought, tears trickling down my cheeks, but it looks like this is the end. I'm sorry you don't get to grow up, you don't get to meet me, and I don't get to pamper and spoil you. I'm so sorry.

I had never been so scared in my life before; why wouldn't I be? I was face-to-face with death, and there was no hero coming to save me.

They say there's a white light when you're about to die, but that wasn't my case; all I saw was darkness.

That instant, the door burst open, and I heard a series of loud clattering and banging sounds, like a SWAT team had found me.

"Get away from her!" a familiar voice hollered.

It sounded a lot like… Dad?

I opened my eyes, and the first thing I saw was Vlad throwing a series of punches at Andy.

Dad dashed over to me and picked up Andy's knife from the floor; with it, he set me free.

Vlad left the man he'd knocked down and rushed to hold me, worry flickering in his eyes. "Are you okay? Is the baby okay? Did he hurt you?"

I still had tears in my eyes, and the revelation about his inhumane act hadn't fully sunk in yet.

"Talk to me," he said, searching my body with his eyes, probably looking for any injuries.

"Sienna, baby," Dad called softly, stepping forward. "I'm so relieved we found you on time—God only knows what this maniac would have done to you."

I frowned at him and squirmed out of Vlad's hands.

" He's a maniac?" I asked, fuming. "That rich, coming from you, Dad."

He looked at Vlad, and they both furrowed their brows.

"What're you talking about, sweetheart?" Dad asked, attempting to hold me.

I pulled away. "Don't touch me."

"What's going on?" he asked, puzzled.

"What did you tell her?" Vlad snapped at Andy as his men held him down.

"He told me the truth!" I blurted out, looking right at Vlad, who was looking back with a squint. "Did you really kill an innocent man and a one-month-old baby?"

I watched as his countenance changed upon my question, but he didn't say a word.

"Answer me, Vlad!"

"Sienna, you don't understand," Dad chipped in.

"Of course, you'd take his side," I said with a scoff. "I mean, you were an accomplice in the act, which makes you just as guilty."

They were both standing in silence, exchanging glances.

"How could you, Vlad?" I asked him, hurting deeply. "Joshua was your friend. How could you take his life without even thinking twice? And like that wasn't enough, you went ahead and murdered an infant…an infant , Vlad!" I still hadn't come to terms with his inhumanity. "Jesus Christ, are you that cold? Do you even have a conscience at all?"

Finally, Vlad spoke. "You're judging me without hearing my own side of the story. How's that fair?"

As much as I hated to admit it, he was right, but I doubted that there would be any justification for his actions.

"Joshua was my friend," he agreed. "And I killed him, true. But that's because he betrayed me and killed my father. Killing him was hard, but I had to get my pound of flesh. He killed my old man, Sienna. Why would my friend do that?"

I was confused at this point. Andy hadn't told me this part of the story.

"Okay, say I believe you. That doesn't justify killing an infant," I said.

Vlad glanced at my father and took a step away.

"He didn't kill the baby, Sienna," Dad said. "She's alive and well." His voice cracked and his eyes became teary all of a sudden.

That was a relief, but why was he so emotional about it?

Dad continued, "In fact, that baby is right here with us as we speak. She's looking at me, wondering what it is that I'm trying to say to her. Her mind is racing at the possibility that the man she's known as her father for the past twenty-one years might not actually be her biological father."

All at once, I froze, my entire body stuck in place.

"What are you saying, Dad?" I managed to choke out, my heart dropping as I got the message.

Still, I needed to hear him say it.

He wiped his tears and sighed heavily. "I'm saying that you're that infant, Sienna."

My legs could no longer carry me, so I sat back in the chair that had held me bound minutes ago. With a palm on my chest, I put my head down, struggling to breathe. My shoulders heaved with quiet sobs, and my throat was so tight that I could scarcely breathe.

"If I'm that baby, then that means Joshua was my father, and you're…." I glanced up at him, his form blurring through the tears streaming down my cheeks.

He, too, had tears in his eyes.

Fuck!

With nothing else to do, I wept.

I may have been a heartless son of a bitch, but even then, I wouldn't react without first being provoked. Cruelty was a part of the job—ruthlessness, as well—but I always knew where to draw the line, especially when it came to family and those I called friends. However, drawing that line was the reason I'd gotten sloppy, the reason I'd denied all the facts in front of me, and that had gotten my father killed.

If I had listened to my gut and acted when I should have, maybe he'd still be alive today. What hurt me more wasn't who pulled the trigger; it was who had figuratively pointed the gun that claimed my old man's life.

I'd never had a mother's love, but I'd had my father's care and training; he was extreme with me growing up, but that was the traditional way of the Bratva. I'd hated it at first, but as I grew older, I had a better understanding of why he'd been so hard on me. He taught me everything I knew, made me the man that I was…the man whose name caused his enemies to tremble in fear.

We'd become so close before his murder, so when the assassination attempt on his life had been successful, I was blinded by rage, and all I wanted was vengeance.

_____________

Twenty-one years ago…

" Baba , are you sure about this?" I asked my father in our native Russian tongue.

Being a man rooted in his culture and tradition, he barely spoke any English at all, only when absolutely necessary. So, around him, we only spoke Russian.

We were seated in the front row in a conference hall, and he was about to be called upon to give a speech. The audience were mainly businessmen and politicians, hence why the space was heavily guarded, but I couldn't shake off the feeling that something was wrong. We'd known for a while now that there was a mole in our organization who'd been leaking out our secrets to a rival organization, and I'd received word that my father's life was in danger. But the old man was so goddamn stubborn; he wouldn't listen.

"With the attempts on your life, I don't think it's wise to go up that podium," I said to him, leaning close to whisper to his ears alone.

He laughed. "I can't hide forever, Vlad. When death comes, there's nothing anyone can do about it. Every decision you make trying to stop it will only lead you to the inevitable."

"Does your life mean nothing to you, Baba ?" I questioned, failing to understand his calmness about this.

He looked at me and smiled. "I've seen a lot in this line of work, Vlad. I've made enemies more than I've made friends, which means with every day that passes, I come closer to my death. If today is the day I die, then so be it." He placed a hand on my shoulder and smiled.

The man was sick, obviously. His old age might have gotten deeper into his head than I'd thought.

He was called upon, and a heavy round of applause erupted from the crowd. My father was a very influential man, well-known in St. Petersburg and beyond.

I rose to my feet, watching him wave as he mounted the podium. My eyes roamed the hall, and even though everyone was clapping for Udinov Wolkov, I knew half of them hated him for one thing or another.

"Keep an eye out," I said to my head of security who was standing by my side. "I have a bad feeling about this. Tell your men to stay sharp. All eyes on my father, got it?"

He nodded and shifted, talking into his radio.

I adjusted my suit and checked my watch. Joshua was supposed to have been here an hour ago. I was always comfortable when he was around, safe. Joshua wasn't just my friend; he was my right-hand man, the only person in the criminal underworld who I trusted with my life, aside from my father, of course.

Both my friends, Paul and Joshua, had their roles to play in the business. Paul handled the legal aspects of the business, and he had my full trust. Joshua was like my second-in-command; he was in charge of everything in my absence, meaning he knew stuff that even Paul had no idea about. He knew all of my secrets and those of the family business. But I didn't fret about it because he was a loyal soldier.

My father was talking, addressing the crowd, and everything seemed okay, yet this feeling of unease wouldn't leave. As I looked around, I spotted a couple of cleaners creating a scene at the back of the hall as security stood in their way, probably telling them that they couldn't be in there.

That was rather suspicious, but before I could give it much thought, I noticed a man in the crowd glaring at my father. Soon, he dug his hand into his pants and withdrew a gun.

My eyes widened as I bolted up to the podium. " Baba , get down!"

The man pulled the trigger, and the loud bang disturbed the peace of the hall, causing the crowd to scatter in fear and confusion.

I slammed into my father, knocking him down before the bullet could hit him. "Are you alright?" I asked, shielding him with my body.

By now, the entire hall was in chaos, people screaming and running around.

"Get off me, boy," he groaned, pushing me away. "It is not your job to keep me safe; it is mine to keep you safe!"

I got back on my feet, ignoring the man as a gun fight soon ensued. It turned out that the cleaners weren't cleaners but camouflaged assassins .

"Take him to safety!" I ordered the bodyguards that surrounded him.

Before they could move, two of them were gunned down by the enemy, and I retaliated with three precise shots, each bullet taking down a target. As I ran to aid my father, I froze at the sound of a gunshot that hit his chest; then came another that struck his stomach. My breath ceased for a second as his blood splashed on my suit.

"No," I said softly, watching him drop, his hands flying in the air. With lightning speed, I caught him before he hit the ground. " Baba , stay with me. You'll be fine," I said.

For the first time in my life, I was on the verge of shedding tears.

He coughed, and all that expelled from his mouth was blood. My hands rested on the wounds he'd sustained in a feeble attempt to stop the bleeding. He struggled, wheezing, and he strained to speak.

"Shh. Save your breath," I said, watching my old man's body shudder, the life in him slowly leaving. He was trying to tell me something, but he couldn't; his throat was flooded with blood from his punctured lung.

The chaos around me didn't matter at all; my focus on this man was dying in my arms. Tears welled in my eyes and almost dropped, but I held them in.

He reached out with his bloody hand and placed his palm on my face. "Live," he finally said with a voice so faint that I could barely hear it.

Seconds later, his hand fell off my cheek, and he drew his last breath.

I shut my eyes, and those tears dropped into his wound as he lay lifeless in my arms, his blood spreading across the floor. I boiled with rage, my grip around his cold fingers tightening in anger, and I swore then to find who had been behind this and make them suffer before taking from them what they'd taken from my father.

_____________

It had been two days since the assassination, and still no word from Joshua—nothing at all. The assassins had been captured by my men and were undergoing tremendous torture, but none of them had broken yet. I knew that they would, eventually. And then I'd know who had hired them and all those who'd had a hand in my father's death.

I was sitting in my father's office with Paul in the chair across the desk when the door opened and Simon Olegov, head of my security detail, walked in. He was with one of the assassins who'd been beaten up to the point where his face was disfigured.

"Boss," he greeted me and pushed the man forward. "Tell him what you told me."

My heart broke into a million pieces when he told me that Joshua was the mole his organization had been walking with and that my right-hand man—my friend—had played a major role in the death of my father.

He was still talking when I pulled out my gun and shot him five times in the chest. Paul flinched at my reaction, shutting his eyes. The revelation hit him just as hard.

I got out of my chair, rubbing my chin as I fumed, struggling to understand why Joshua would betray me the way that he had.

"Leave us," Paul said to Simon, who nodded and dragged the body out of the office. "What're you going to do?" Paul asked me.

"What I'd do to any enemy who killed my father," I replied, turning to face him. "He's an enemy now. So, I'll treat him as such."

Later that day, Simon revealed that the assassin I'd killed had given up Joshua's location. He handed me the address, and I stared at it in my hand, wondering what I'd do when I saw him.

"I'll get the men," he said to me.

"No," I objected. "I'll handle this alone."

He nodded.

"I'm coming with you," Paul said, looking at me.

I said nothing and walked toward my car; he followed up behind me, and we got inside; then, I drove away.

In no time, we arrived at the location, and I kicked the door open to find Joshua stripped from the waist up as he fooled around with some naked whores in bed. The women yelped at our intrusion and hopped off the bed, covering their nakedness.

"Get out," Paul said to them.

Without any resistance, they picked up their littered clothes and rushed to the door.

"Listen, Vlad, I'm sorry about your father. I was going to come around later—"

"Cut the crap, Josh," Paul interrupted him. "We know."

His countenance changed immediately, and he slowly got out of bed, showing no remorse whatsoever. "It took you this long to find out, ehh?" He smirked.

"Why?" I asked him, seething.

"Why?" He scoffed. "Did you really ask me why ?"

There he was, the traitor who had gotten my father killed.

"All my life, I've lived in your shadow, putting up with your bullshit, taking orders from you!" His voice rose. "I got fed up with being your errand boy, Vlad."

"So, you had my father killed because you're jealous?" I balled a fist in both hands.

"I am better than you, Vlad—I deserve to live your life and not the other way around," he said arrogantly. "My only regret is that they couldn't kill you, as well." He frowned.

With that, it was sealed; he was my enemy—the friend I'd used to know was long gone.

I rushed at him, and the two of us started to exchange blows. He claimed he was better than me, but I was angrier, and I used that rage to my advantage.

He was a formidable foe, and his punches hurt, but I was stronger, faster. First, I trapped his arm in mine and snapped it from the elbow joint like it was a twig. He screamed. With a quick movement, I seized his head and slammed his skull into the nearest wall.

I went on and on, bashing his head against the concrete; even as his eyes were popping out, his nose bleeding, I didn't stop. The memory of my father laying lifeless in my arms fueled my rage.

The wall was painted red, and his blood splashed with each dent, staining my suit, some of it sprinkling on my face. Yet, I wouldn't stop.

Paul had always been weak at heart, and though he was behind me, I knew he wasn't looking.

It wasn't until his skull had cracked open that I stopped, panting as I stepped away from his now limp body.

He was dead, but I still felt empty inside; the pit in my stomach was not yet filled. I'd had my pound of flesh, but it wasn't enough.

I threw my head toward the ceiling and let out a frustrated shout. but even that didn't help. This was so fucked up, and his betrayal had released the beast trapped inside me.

My attention was drawn to a woman standing outside the room with a crying baby in her arms.

She stood frozen in place, looking like she was about to throw up at the sight she beheld.

My eyes met hers, and she gulped, fear coloring her gaze. "Please, don't kill me," she said softly as I walked toward her.

"Who are you?" I asked.

"I…I'm…I'm the nanny hired to take care of the baby," she stuttered, her lips trembling as she tried to take her eyes off the dead man.

"Joshua has a baby?" I asked through gritted teeth.

"Yes…but he didn't want it. The mother left as soon as the girl was born, and he said he was going to drop her off at an orphanage," she replied.

"So, she has no one?" Paul asked.

The nanny shook her head.

Paul walked over to her and took the baby from her arms. He carried her gently, smiling at the infant, who had stopped crying as soon as he took it.

"Hi," he said softly, staring at the baby in his arms.

"Leave," I said to her. "And if you say anything about what happened here today, I will find you, and trust me, you wouldn't want that."

My threats had her pissing her pants, and she was already shedding tears.

"Do you understand?"

She nodded quickly and ran out immediately.

I understood Paul's affection for this infant; his wife had delivered a baby just yesterday, but their child was a stillborn. He and Natalie were mourning at the time, and with the way he took the baby, I knew exactly what his plan was.

"I'm taking her in, Vlad. I don't care what evil her father has done; she's innocent of that," he said. "Natalie and I will raise her like our own."

I was quiet; his decision was to be expected considering what was going on in his life at the time.

"I'm done," he said. "I can't keep living like this. I'm tired of the bloodshed, Vlad. I don't wanna end up dead, not now that I've been given another chance at being a father. I'm out."

I sighed. He was right; this life wasn't for him—this wasn't his calling. He'd been a good friend, loyal and true, even though he was weak at heart. He deserved to be happy, to start his own family with the woman of his dreams.

"I'm not going to stop you from leaving, Paul," I said. "You've always been free to do as you wish."

"Thank you," he replied. "I'll be leaving St. Petersburg with Natalie and the baby."

I nodded subtly. "You do that. I wish you all the best."

And I'd truly meant it.