Chapter 16: Irina

The chaos in the warehouse is raging on, but my focus is narrowed to one thing—Sergei. I watch him as he slips through the fight, slinking toward the exit like the coward he is. Every muscle in my body tenses, and I try to hold it together, to stay focused on the plan, but the second I see him running, all the restraint I've been holding onto vanishes.

No. He's not getting away. Not ever.

Without thinking, I push through the firefight, weaving between crates and bodies, ignoring the bullets flying past me. My gun is still hot in my hands, but I don't fire. Not yet. Every fiber of my being is screaming for me to end this, but I need to get to him first.

"Irina, no!" I hear Alexei's voice faintly through the chaos, but I ignore him. I'm not letting Sergei get away. Not if we may never have another chance.

Sergei ducks through a door at the far end of the warehouse, and I follow, pushing past the metal door as it slams shut behind him. My boots echo against the steel steps as I race upward.

I know where he's going. He's heading to the roof.

I reach the top of the staircase, throw open the door, and step out onto the roof. The cold night air hits me, sharp and biting, but I don't stop. Sergei is already there, standing at the edge of the roof, his back to me. He turns slowly as I approach, a sick grin stretching across his face.

He looks at me and laughs. "This is what they sent to fight me? You? "

My grip tightens on the gun, but I hold my fire—for now.

Sergei reaches into his jacket and pulls out a gun of his own. "I'll make this quick, little girl."

He points the gun at me and pulls the trigger.

Click.

There's no bullet.

His eyes widen for a split second before he tosses the gun away, his grin returning. "Doesn't matter," he sneers. "I don't need a gun to deal with you. I can still beat you with my bare hands because you're just a little bitch."

I don't flinch. His words roll off me like water. I've heard worse.

"Don't you have any remorse?" I ask, my voice steady even though my blood is boiling.

He raises an eyebrow, almost amused. "Remorse? For what?"

I step closer, my hands shaking with anger. "You killed my parents, Sergei. You took everything from me and hundreds of other people."

Sergei's grin grows wider, his eyes narrow as he studies me. "I've killed a lot of people, sweetheart. You'll have to be more specific. I'm sorry I don't remember every little detail."

The rage inside me builds to a boiling point, and I shout, "Fuck you!"

He chuckles. "I would have taken you up on that offer, but you're a little too skinny for my taste."

Disgust rolls through me, and I take another step forward, raising my gun. "My father, Adrian."

His expression remains blank for a moment. "Adrian?" he says, tilting his head as if he's genuinely trying to remember. "Sorry, love. You're going to have to give me more than that. I don't remember anyone by that name." He gestures dismissively with his hand. "I've got places to be, so if you don't mind, I'll be leaving now."

I grit my teeth.

My heart pounds in my chest.

He doesn't even remember.

After everything, he doesn't even remember. The pain, the years of suffering, the loss, the grief. And to him, it's nothing.

But then I see it. His face shifts, just for a moment. A flicker of recognition.

"The military officer," he laughs, shaking his head. "Oh, now I remember. Adrian . It's been so long." His grin widens, malicious and cruel. "I didn't know his daughter was all grown up now. How cute."

My grip tightens on the gun; my finger hovers dangerously close to the trigger. Every nerve in my body is screaming at me to pull it, to end this right here. Why can't I do it?

"So, that was your daddy?" he sneers, stepping closer. "I remember now. He was using military skills to rile me up then. I heard from my men that he didn't even put up a good fight. He wasn't anything special. Just another dead man in a long line of bodies."

My breath catches in my throat, and I can feel the tears burning behind my eyes.

No! I won't give him the satisfaction of seeing me break. Not now, not ever.

"You killed him," I say, my voice low and steady, though my hands are trembling. "You took my family from me. You took everything from me."

Sergei shrugs. "I've taken a lot of things from a lot of people. I'm sorry, honey, you're not special." He chuckles.

The world around me narrows, my vision tunneling as I focus solely on him. His voice is like nails on a chalkboard, each word twisting deeper into the wound that's been festering inside me for years.

"You're a monster," I whisper.

He laughs again. "A monster? Sweetheart, I'm just a man who does what needs to be done. If that makes me a monster, then so be it."

I take another step forward, closing the distance between us. My gun is still raised, but he doesn't flinch. He doesn't care.

"Do you think this makes you powerful?" I ask, my voice rising. "Do you think this makes you untouchable?"

Sergei smirks. "I think it makes me alive, which is more than I can say for your father."

The rooftop air is sharp and cold, but I don't feel it; his words are enough to freeze me over.

"Where's my brother?"

Sergei's grin doesn't falter. "Your brother?" He chuckles darkly. "Oh, he's alive."

I don't breathe.

He's alive.

Ivan is alive.

"Ivan, isn't it? He's alive and well, and not only is he alive," Sergei continues, a sneer curling his lips, "but he's been working for me. Willingly."

The world seems to collapse around me, the edges of my vision blurring as his words sink in like jagged glass. Ivan? Working for him ? I try to scramble for an explanation. No, it can't be true. It can't be true. Ivan would never—he couldn't. Not after everything. Not after what he took from us.

"No." I shake my head. "He wouldn't."

Sergei's laugh is harsh, like a slap to the face. "Oh, but he has. He's one of my best men now. Ruthless, efficient. He barely remembers you, barely remembers your family."

The air feels too thick to breathe. "Where is the fuck he?"

Sergei steps closer, his eyes glinting with amusement. "Ohh, he's closer than you think, but it won't matter. You won't reach him. He's too far gone."

"Where is he, Sergei?" I demand again, my grip on the gun tightening.

Sergei shrugs, enjoying the torment he's causing. "He's mine now, Irina. My hitman. You wouldn't even recognize him. He's killed pregnant women, children, and families without flinching. He's like a dog that barks as soon as I snap my fingers."

Before I can react, Sergei moves. In a blink, he swats the gun from my hand, and it skitters across the rooftop. His fist crashes into my stomach, and I double over, gasping for air.

Before I can recover, he punches me in the jaw, sending me sprawling onto the cold concrete. Pain flashes through my body, but I push it aside. I have to get up. I have to keep fighting.

Sergei looms over me, sneering. "You're weak. Just like your father."

I force myself up onto my hands, glaring at him.

He kicks me hard in the ribs, knocking me back down. The pain shoots through my side, but I grit my teeth, refusing to cry out. I won't give him that satisfaction.

"You think you're strong?" Sergei taunts, pacing around me. "You're pathetic. Just like everyone else who tries to stand up to me."

I push myself up again, despite the pain. Sergei rolls his eyes and raises his fist, ready to hit me again, but before he can, a shot rings out.

Sergei jerks backward, blood blooming from his leg. He crumples to the ground with a grunt of pain.

I look up to see Alexei standing at the rooftop entrance, his gun still aimed at Sergei. His face is hard, his expression unreadable.

Sergei looks up at Alexei, his eyes widening. "You . . ." he spits through clenched teeth. "You're Alexei."

Alexei says nothing, his focus shifting to me as he approaches, checking for injuries. "You alright?"

I nod, though my body is screaming in pain. "Yeah, I'm fine."

He keeps his gun trained on Sergei, who's writhing on the ground, clutching his leg. "Dmitri's never going to get me," Sergei growls. His hand moves to his jacket.

"Alexei!" I shout, but it's too late. Sergei triggers something in his jacket, and a thick cloud of smoke explodes across the rooftop.

The smoke blinds us instantly, stinging my eyes and choking my lungs.

"Fuck!" I yell as I stumble through the smoke, coughing and trying to see Alexei through the thick cloud. My eyes burn, my body aches, but I need to know he is okay.

I spot Alexei through the fog, struggling to stay upright. Blood stains his shirt.

"Alexei!" I rush to him, ignoring the burning in my lungs as I pull him to his feet. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine."

"Is that your blood?"

"No, it's not."

"You should've gone after him," Alexei grits out. "The smoke was a diversion. He's escaping."

My mind spins, trying to catch up. I could have stopped him. I should have—

But then, My brother . . . my Ivan.

"My brother is alive." The words come out in a breathless whisper, as if saying them aloud will make them more real.

"What?"

"Ivan is alive. He's alive, but he's Sergei's dog." I sit down beside him.

"You can't be sure."

"He's killed people. He's killed children."

Even as I speak, I can't reconcile it. The image of Ivan, the boy who refused to even swat a fly, who always smiled so bright that it felt like the sun, was twisted into this . . . monster. It doesn't make sense.

How could he? How could he be a killer?

"Don't believe whatever Sergei tells you, Irina. You should never believe whatever comes out of that bastard's mouth. Do you hear me?"

I want to believe him, but doubt seeps into every corner of my mind, poisoning it. I can barely breathe.

Katya's voice comes in through the earphones. "Are you both okay?" When they both don't respond on time, she asks again. "Please respond."

Alexei taps his earpiece. "Don't cry, we're good."

Katya snorts. "Fuck you."

I close my eyes, feeling the exhaustion settle deep in my bones.

This fight isn't over. Not by a long shot.

And if Ivan truly is lost to me, then I'll burn Sergei's world to the ground.