Chapter 18: Irina

It's him.

Ivan.

My brother.

I haven't seen him in ten years, but I'd recognize him anywhere. His face has changed—older, harder, his jaw sharper and his cheekbones more pronounced—but it's him. There's a part of him that is unmistakable, even after all this time. But there's something else, too. There's something wrong. His eyes . . . they're not the eyes I remember. They're vacant, hollow, like the life has been drained from them, leaving nothing but a shell.

"Ivan," I whisper, my voice catching in my throat. My legs feel like they're filled with lead, but I force myself to take a step toward him. "Ivan, it's me. It's Irina. Your sister."

He doesn't move. He doesn't even blink. He stares straight ahead, his eyes fixed somewhere beyond me, as if I'm invisible.

My heart clenches, and a cold pit forms in my stomach.

What have they done to him?

"Ivan, please," I say, louder this time, desperation creeping into my voice. "It's me. Don't you recognize me?"

A harsh laugh cuts through the air, and I turn to see Sergei stepping out from the shadows, a smirk playing on his lips. "I told you, didn't I? He doesn't know you anymore, Irina."

"That's not true," I say, my voice trembling. "He's still in there. I know he is."

Sergei snorts, shaking his head in amusement. "You really are na?ve, aren't you? He's not Ivan anymore. He's Striker now. And the only thing he's good for is following orders. My orders."

I clench my fists, my nails digging into my palms.

I refuse to believe it. Ivan can't be gone. He can't be.

"Ivan," I say again, pleading this time. "Please, listen to me. It's Irina. Don't do this."

For a brief moment, his eyes flicker. It's so subtle I almost miss it, but I see it. There's something there. Something is trying to break through. But just as quickly as it appears, it's gone, and his expression hardens again.

Sergei steps closer. "I told you, once I give the order, Striker will shoot you without blinking twice. You might as well save your breath."

I swallow hard, refusing to look away from Ivan. "He's not yours, Sergei. He's my brother. And he's still in there somewhere."

Sergei lets out a bored sigh, rolling his eyes. "Enough of this." He turns to Ivan, "Striker, kill the bitch."

My heart stops.

Ivan raises his gun, like he's being controlled by strings. My breath catches in my throat, and I freeze, staring down the barrel of the gun as it points directly at me.

"Ivan!" I scream, my voice shaking. "No!"

Before I can move, Alexei lunges toward me. His hand grips my arm as he pulls me to the ground. The gun goes off with a deafening crack, and I feel the rush of air as the bullet grazes Alexei's arm, barely missing him. He grunts in pain, clutching his arm, but he's still moving, his gun already drawn and pointed at Ivan.

"No!" I scream again, scrambling to my feet. "Don't shoot him! Please, Alexei, don't shoot my brother!"

Alexei's jaw tightens, his eyes burning with fury as he glares at Ivan, his gun still trained on him. "Irina, he just tried to kill you. I can't let him—"

"He doesn't know what he's doing!" I shout, stepping in front of Alexei, my heart pounding in my chest. "Please, just . . . just let me try."

For a moment, Alexei hesitates, his gaze flicking between me and Ivan. Then, slowly, he lowers his gun, though I can see the tension still thrumming through his body.

"You have one chance, Irina," he says. "One chance to get through to him."

My hands tremble as I reach for the necklace around my neck, the small silver pendant that Ivan gave me for my birthday. I unclasp it and hold it out in front of me as I take a slow, steady step toward him.

"Ivan," I say softly, my voice shaking. "Do you remember this? You gave it to me when I was ten. You said it would protect me. You promised me that no matter what happened, we'd always be together."

He doesn't react, but I keep going, my heart breaking with every word.

"We used to sit by the lake, remember? You taught me how to skip stones. You said we were the two best stone skippers in the world." I laugh, but it's a hollow sound, filled with desperation. "You told me that as long as I had this necklace, I'd never be alone."

I take another step closer, my eyes locked on his. "Ivan, I kept it. I kept it all these years because I knew . . . I knew you were still out there. I never gave up on you."

His eyes flicker again, and this time, it's more than a flicker. It's a shift, subtle but real. His gaze moves slowly, and for the first time, he looks at me— really looks at me.

"Irina . . ." he whispers hoarsely, like it's been ripped from the depths of his soul. "You're . . . alive?"

My breath catches in my throat, and tears well up in my eyes. "Yes," I whisper, my voice trembling. "I'm alive. And I'm here, Ivan."

For a moment, everything seems to stop. The gun in Ivan's hand lowers slightly.

But before I can take another step, Sergei's voice cuts through the silence like a blade.

"What the fuck are you doing?!" Sergei snarls, "Striker, shoot her! Shoot her now!"

Ivan's body jerks, like he's fighting against invisible chains, his face contorted with pain and confusion. His hand tightens on the gun again, and for a heart-stopping moment, I think he's going to pull the trigger.

"No!" I shout, stepping closer. "Ivan, don't listen to him! Please, it's me. It's Irina."

His eyes flick back to mine, and I see the conflict warring inside him. He's fighting it. He's trying to break free. But it's like Sergei's control over him is too strong, too deeply ingrained.

And then, suddenly, Ivan lifts the gun, not towards me, but towards himself. He presses the barrel to his temple, his hand shaking as his eyes fill with tears.

"I can't . . .. I can't . . ." he whispers, "I'm sorry, Irina. I'm so sorry."

"No!" I scream, my heart plummeting into my stomach. "Ivan, no! Please don't!"

My legs feel like they're moving through quicksand as I take another step closer, hands reaching out, trembling with the need to stop him. Everything inside me is screaming to reach him before it's too late. His hand shakes violently, the barrel of the gun pressing against his temple.

His eyes, glassy and lost, meet mine for a fleeting moment, filled with so much pain and regret that it makes my heart splinter.

"Ivan, please!" I choke out, "Please don't do this. You don't have to do this! It's not your fault! None of this is your fault!"

His chest rises and falls in jagged breaths, and I see the wetness glistening in his eyes. His lips tremble, trying to form words, but all that escapes is a broken, choked sob.

"I'm not worth it," he whispers. "I can't fix this. I can't fix what I've done."

Tears spill down my cheeks as I inch closer, not daring to make any sudden moves. "Ivan, please . . . don't give up. We can fix this. We can fix everything. You don't have to do this. I'm here. I never left you."

His grip on the gun wavers, his arm shaking as he fights some invisible war within himself. His body tenses, and his teeth grind together as his finger brushes the trigger. My stomach lurches so hard that it feels like I'm going to throw up.

"I'm sorry," he whispers again, voice drenched in self-loathing. "I'm so sorry."

My scream tears through the air as his finger begins to press down on the trigger. I hear the sound of the gunshot and close my eyes. It's over.

Then, a yelp causes me to fling my eyes open. Ivan is clutching his injured hand, a cry of pain tearing from his throat. Before Ivan can recover, Alexei lunges, tackling him to the ground. They hit the concrete with a thud, and Alexei pins him down, his body pressing Ivan's arms firmly against the floor.

Ivan struggles beneath him, his movements desperate but weakened, and Alexei's voice comes out as a harsh growl. "Stay down, Ivan. It's over."

Ivan's eyes widen, wild and unfocused, and his brows draw tight together as if he's trying to make sense of the chaos around him. His lips pull back into a grimace, teeth clenched in a silent cry of pain as he thrashes beneath Alexei, but Alexei doesn't let up. With a practiced motion, Alexei brings his elbow down hard against Ivan's temple. The blow is sharp, and in seconds, Ivan goes limp beneath him, his body slumping into unconsciousness.

Alexei doesn't move for a moment, his chest rising and falling heavily as he keeps Ivan pinned, his eyes hard and focused. Then, slowly, he looks up at me, "He's out."

"That fucking bastard." Sergei lets out a string of curses under his breath as he tries to limp away, but Alexei is faster. Alexei is on him, tackling him to the ground. The sound of their bodies hitting the concrete echoes through the warehouse, and before Sergei can even react, Alexei's fist connects with his jaw, the crack of bone audible.

Sergei grunts, struggling beneath Alexei's weight, but it's useless. Alexei doesn't give Sergei a chance to speak. His fist slams down again, then again, each blow harder than the last.

"That's for me," Alexei snarls, landing another punch to Sergei's already bloody face. "For Dmitri."

He hits him again, his knuckles splitting from the impact. "For Irina."

Another blow, Sergei's face now barely recognizable. "For Valentina. For Katya."

Alexei's voice grows darker, more dangerous, as he leans in closer, his breath hot against Sergei's bruised skin. "And for Ivan."

Sergei barely manages a groan, blood pouring from his mouth, his eyes swelling shut, but Alexei isn't done. He grabs Sergei by the collar, and pulls him closer.

"You know how Mikhail died," Alexei hisses. "I think that's why you're terrified of Dmitri. Good. I'll be glad to take you back to him. Let's see what he does to you."

Sergei's body goes limp in Alexei's grip, his breath ragged, his face a bloody mess. He doesn't have the strength to fight anymore, and Alexei tosses him aside like a piece of trash, his chest heaving with each breath.

I stay on the ground, cradling Ivan's unconscious body. I hug him tightly.

Alexei stands, wiping the blood from his knuckles as he looks down at Sergei's broken body. He presses his earpiece, "Katya, send me some men. We've got bodies to move."