50. Chapter 50

50

Dimitri

W ren spits blood at Elena's feet. "Fuck you."

Elena laughs, cold and brittle. "Such spirit. I can see why Dimitri's so… invested."

My grip on the doorframe tightens. I want to charge in, guns blazing. But that's suicide. We need a plan.

"You know," Elena continues, circling Wren like a shark, "I always wondered what kind of woman could tame the great Dimitri Orlov. But you? You're nothing special."

Wren's eyes narrow. "Says the psycho bitch with daddy issues."

Elena's hand lashes out, backhanding Wren hard. The chair rocks but doesn't fall.

"Careful," Wren says, spitting out more blood. "You'll ruin your manicure."

I feel Erik tense beside me. His hand's on his gun. I shake my head slightly. Not yet.

Elena crouches in front of Wren, knife glinting. "You think you're so clever. But you're just a pawn in a game you don't understand."

"Oh, I understand plenty," Wren snarls. "You're a sad, pathetic little girl playing at being a big bad villain. It'd be funny if it wasn't so fucking tragic."

Elena's face twists with rage. She raises the knife, ready to strike.

That's when I move.

I burst into the room, gun raised. "Drop it, Elena."

She freezes, eyes wide with shock. Then a slow, cruel smile spreads across her face. "Dimitri. How nice of you to join us."

"I said drop it." My voice is ice.

Elena straightens, keeping the knife at Wren's throat. "Or what? You'll shoot me? We both know you don't have the balls."

Erik slips into the room behind me, his gun trained on Elena. "He might not. But I do."

Elena's eyes flick between us, calculating. "Two against one? Hardly seems fair."

"Life's not fair," I growl. "Now, step away from her."

For a long moment, nobody moves. The tension in the room is thick enough to choke on.

Then Elena laughs, a high, manic sound. "Oh, Dimitri. You always were so predictable."

She moves lightning-fast, slashing the knife across Wren's collarbone. Wren cries out in pain.

I don't think. I just react.

The gunshot is deafening in the small room. Elena staggers back, blood blooming on her shoulder.

"You shot me," she says, sounding more surprised than hurt.

"Be thankful I didn't aim for your head," I snarl, crossing the room in two quick strides.

Erik's already at Wren's side, cutting her free.

I stand over Elena, gun trained on her face. The face I've dreamed of destroying for years. Hate burns in my gut, cold and familiar. She tilts her head, a smile playing on her lips. Like this is all some fucking game to her.

"Go ahead, D," she purrs, raising her hands slowly. "Pull the trigger. We both know you want to."

My finger tightens on the trigger. One twitch, and it's over. All the betrayal, all the pain she caused… gone in an instant.

"Where the fuck is my old man?" Wren snaps.

I turn, startled by the raw fury in her tone. She's on her feet now, eyes blazing, fists clenched. Blood trickles from the cut on her collarbone, but she doesn't seem to notice.

Or care.

For a second, I forget about Elena.

Wren looks… dangerous. Beautiful and terrifying all at once. Like a wolf ready to tear someone's throat out.

"You okay?" I ask Wren, my eyes scanning her for injuries.

She nods, wincing as she rubs her wrists. "I've had worse hangovers."

I almost smile. Almost.

"How sweet," Elena spits from the floor. "The beast and his beauty reunited at last."

I turn to her, my voice low and dangerous. "Where's John?"

She grins, all teeth. "Who knows? Maybe he's already dead."

Wren's on her in a flash, grabbing a fistful of Elena's hair. "Listen, you crazy bitch. You're going to tell us where John is, or I swear to God, I'll—"

Elena's faster. Her head snaps back, cracking against Wren's nose. Wren stumbles, cursing. Elena's on her feet in a flash, fist connecting with Wren's jaw.

I lunge forward, but Elena's already moving. She spins, leg sweeping Wren's feet from under her. Wren hits the ground hard.

Elena bolts for the door. I raise my gun, but she's already disappeared down the hallway.

"Fuck!" I snarl, torn between pursuit and checking on Wren.

Before I can decide, gunfire erupts downstairs. Shouts echo up the stairwell.

More shouting.

And gunshots.

"D!" Oleg's voice crackles over the radio. "We've got company! Zimniy's here!"

Fuck.

I look at Erik. "Get Wren out. I'll handle Zimniy."

"Like hell," Wren growls, snatching Erik's spare gun.

Erik's eyebrows shoot up.

Blood streams from her nose, painting her chin crimson. She swipes it away with the back of her hand, smearing red across her cheek.

"Not leaving without my dad."

I want to tell her she's out of her fucking mind. That she needs to get her ass to safety while we clean up this mess. But there's no time for this shit, and I know that look. She'd sooner put a bullet in me than leave her fucking dad behind.

" Blyat, " I growl. "Fine. Erik, you and Wren go find John. I'll deal with these mudaks and meet you at the extraction point."

Erik nods, hauling Wren to her feet.

"Fucking hell's hemorrhoids, that bitch can hit," Wren grunts, pressing a hand to her ribs as she rushes out with Erik.

I watch them go, jaw clenched. Part of me wants to follow, make sure Wren doesn't get her stubborn ass killed. But there's no time for that shit.

Gunfire erupts downstairs, closer now. Glass shatters. Someone screams.

I move, keeping low. The hallway's a mess of broken furniture and bullet holes. At the top of the stairs, I pause, listening.

Footsteps. Heavy. Coming up fast.

I flatten myself against the wall, knife in hand. It's an old one, serrated edge worn smooth from years of use. Same blade I had back in the camp. Fitting, really.

The footsteps reach the top of the stairs. I strike.

My fist smashes into his jaw. He grunts, then there's a flash of silver. I jerk back, feeling the blade whistle past my throat.

"Dimitri," a familiar voice snarls. "Still fighting like a suka , I see."

Zimniy. That scarred mug hasn't changed. Same dead eyes, same fucked-up sneer.

"Learned from watching you, mudak ," I spit, circling him.

He barks out a laugh. "What, no hug for your old brat ?"

" Brat ?" I snort. "That what you call someone who puts a bullet in your gut?"

Zimniy twirls his knife, casual as fuck. "Ancient history. Let it go."

" Idi nahuy ," I snarl. "You and that suka Elena left me to die like a dog."

His eyes narrow. "And look at you now. Ivankov's pet. Living the high life with Ivankov. While we…" He gestures around the dilapidated warehouse. "We get the scraps."

"You made your choice," I growl. "You chose the Skull Collectors over loyalty."

Zimniy's face twists. "Loyalty? To what? The Bratva that watched us suffer in that yebanny camp?"

I lunge, blade flashing. He parries, metal screeching against metal.

"They saved us," I grunt, pressing the attack.

Zimniy laughs, a bitter sound. "Saved you . The rest of us? We had to claw our way out of the gutter."

We break apart. Blood drips from Zimniy's cheek. My arm throbs where he got me.

"So, what now?" I pant. "Revenge? Take Ivankov's turf?"

Zimniy grins like a fucking shark. "Think bigger, durak . We're burning it all. Bratvas, cartels, everything. And from the ashes…"

"You've lost your fucking mind," I cut him off.

He shrugs. "Maybe. But we're not scared malchiki anymore, are we? We've grown. Gotten stronger."

I see my shot and take it, ramming my fist into his gut. Zimniy folds but slashes my leg. Pain explodes, hot and sharp.

"Stronger?" I laugh, ignoring the blood soaking my pants. "You're the same sadistic ublyudok you always were."

Zimniy straightens, eyes burning. "And you're still Ivankov's bitch. Tell me, Dimitri, do they know what you did in the camp? The blood on your hands?"

My blood turns to ice. "Shut your fucking mouth."

"Hit a nerve, da ?" Zimniy pushes. "Does your precious Wren know about the bodies? The—"

I roar, tackling him through a rotting door. We crash into an old office, dust and splinters flying.

Zimniy's knife flashes. I grab his wrist, slamming it until he drops the blade. But his knee drives into my gut.

I roll off, wheezing. Zimniy scrambles for his knife. I lunge, snagging his ankle. He kicks, catching my face. Pain explodes behind my eyes.

"You can't win, tupitsa ," Zimniy pants, stumbling up. "The old ways are dead. Skull Collector is the future."

I spit blood, glaring up at him. "Future of what? More corpses? More kids left to rot? By killing everyone who stands in your way?" I snarl, pushing myself up. "Real fucking revolutionary, Zimniy."

Something flickers in Zimniy's eyes. He looks at me, head cocked. " Bozhe moy , you've gone soft, Dimitri. What happened to the malchik who'd slit a throat for a crust of bread?"

Suddenly, he roars, lunging forward.

His knife flashes in the dim light. I roll, feeling it slice through my jacket. My hand closes around a piece of broken wood. I swing, catching Zimniy in the knee.

He stumbles, cursing. " Suka blyad' !"

I'm on him in an instant, driving my knee into his chest. The knife clatters away.

"It's over, Zimniy," I growl, pinning him down.

I raise my fist, ready to end this shit once and for all. But something stops me. Maybe it's the memory of two scared kids huddled together in a cold cell, sharing body heat to survive the Russian winter.

He glares up at me, blood trickling from his mouth. "Do it, ublyudok . Finish what you started back in the camp."

I hesitate, fist still raised. Zimniy's eyes dart to the right, quick as a snake.

Before I can react, I hear it. The unmistakable click of a gun being cocked.

I turn my head in slow motion. And there she is. Elena. That face I used to know better than my own.

The gunshot cracks through the air like thunder.

Pain explodes in my shoulder, hot and sharp. I look down, watching red bloom across my shirt. Blyat , that's gonna leave a mark.

I look back at Elena, vision already starting to blur. Her face… it's changing. The hard lines softening, years melting away. Suddenly, I'm seeing the girl I knew. The one I loved. The one I swore to protect.

"Dimitri," she used to whisper in the dark, "We'll always be together, right?"

"Da, vsegda," I'd promise. "Always."

What a load of shit that turned out to be.

The world's going fuzzy around the edges. I can taste copper in my mouth. Elena's lips are moving, but I can't make out the words.

Then, cutting through the haze, I hear it. Clear as a bell.

"Wren…"

Another voice, panicked. Familiar. "D! No!"

And then… nothing. My world goes black.