32. Sasha

CHAPTER 32

SASHA

I come to with a painful gasp, my eyes fluttering open to a bulb swinging from the ceiling. Fucking hell, my head's pounding like a jackhammer. I try to sit up and the room spins. I'm forced to close my eyes again as a wave of nausea crashes over me.

The events preceding my blackout are slowly starting to fall back into place. Logan and I caught by his former partner at the taco place. Logan freaking out and insisting we speak to Vlad. My futile attempts to talk to my brother. The argument. Papa. Mama. And then my mind stops comprehending. I have only a vague recollection of being in one of Vlad’s cars, driving through the Vegas traffic, ending up at Downers.

Why?

I don’t know.

Maybe because I wanted to find trouble.

I draw in a lungful of breath, my throat and lungs stinging.

What the fuck did they dose me with?

And then comes the next logical question.

Who they ?

Again, my mind refuses to give me any kind of useful information except for a fuzzy male figure approaching me at the bar. But at that point, I was hammered and his face was a smudge of features. He spoke with an accent. Spanish. The second man is a ghost. All I remember is being hauled from the bar and shoved into the back of a van. Again, could be a bloody dream and not the reality.

Fuck .

I force myself to focus on the present, looking around my surroundings. Four walls. Cement floors. No windows. The air here is dank and cold. There are no sounds coming through but the sound of my heart thrumming in my ears. A faint whiff of mildew tickles my nostrils. Must be some underground bunker. Shit. This can't be good.

If I scream for help, no one will hear me. People bold enough to mess with a Solovey probably aren’t dumb and know how to handle a valuable hostage.

I stagger to my feet, nearly losing my balance. The room continues to spin as I lean against the wall for support and shuffle toward what looks like a heavy metal door. My clumsy fingers grope for a handle and yank. It doesn't budge.

"Oi! Let me out of here, you wankers!" I shout, pounding my fist against the rusted metal. Deep down I already know no one will be there to answer.

I’m right.

Silence.

"Oi! You stupid fucks!" I shout again, my tongue refusing to cooperate. I think what comes out is a bunch of garble.

After a long moment of nothing, I stumble away from the door and collapse against the cold concrete, cradling my throbbing head in my hands. As the fog slowly clears from my mind, snippets of my last conversation with Vlad flood back, each word hitting me like a blow to the solar plexus.

Yes, I had him eliminated. Are you happy now?

He murdered Mama.

Vlad's voice echoes in my skull like pieces of glass in a jar when you shake it.

Our own father killed our mother.

Christ, I can't believe it. I almost refuse, but knowing how Papa was, knowing how many people he had murdered…

For a long time, I wondered if Yuri Solovey was human. Now it’s clear that he wasn’t.

And Vlad... My brother, the one who had always been there for me when we were little. He's a killer too. It's too much to process. My whole world's been flipped upside down and inside out.

Tears prick at the corners of my eyes, but I blink them back. Can't afford to fall apart, not here, not now. Gotta keep my wits about me if I want to make it out of this mess in one piece.

Bloody hell. This is one mad rollercoaster of life.

I’m not certain how much time passes when I hear the noise behind the door, locks snapping. It creaks open, hinges groaning like they haven't been used in ages.

A hulking figure fills the frame, backlit by the harsh fluorescent light from the hallway. I squint against the brightness and try to will my eyes to see but I can't make out his features.

Still, there's something familiar about the way the man carries himself. Confident. Menacing.

He steps into the room, letting the door slam shut behind him with a clang that sets my nerves on edge. As he moves in my direction, I catch a glint of gold in his mouth. Recognition hits me like a freight train.

" Tak, tak, tak ," he mutters under his breath as he approaches. "Alexander Solovey." The man crouches down in front of me, so close I can smell the tobacco on his breath. "Heard you have been looking for me, pretty boy." His voice is a sarcastic gravel laced with a thick Russian accent.

I stare at him, heart thrashing. The brute who cornered me on campus. "Shtyk," I breathe out.

"You know who I am," he goes on, golden tooth glinting as he grins. "Good." He pauses. "You should. I worked for your papa. Yuri and me, we go way back."

Thoughts whirl through my mind at dizzying speeds, pieces of the puzzle clicking into place. So he’s one of Dad's old henchmen. But why's he after me now? What's his game?

I lick my dry lips, trying to find my voice. "What do you want with me?"

Shtyk lets out a harsh bark of laughter. "What do I want?" His expression drops, fake grin no more. "I want to finish what your papa started, little faggot," he hisses, eyes filled with cruel amusement.

My stomach twists, bile rising in my throat. I've heard it all before, the disgust, the hatred. But coming from this man, it cuts deeper somehow. It’s everything I’ve been running away from.

"Guys like you," Shtyk sneers, "should be castrated. Put down like the sick dogs you are." He leans in closer, smelly breath masked by mint-flavored gum hot against my face. "Your papa, he knew how to handle your kind. Shoulda finished the job when he had the chance. Instead of sending you to London."

Rage boils up inside me, white-hot and blinding. Before I can think, I gather what little moisture I have left in my mouth and spit right in Shtyk's face.

The blow comes out of nowhere, a vicious backhand that snaps my head to the side. Pain explodes across my cheek, stars bursting behind my eyes. I slump against the wall, head spinning, the coppery taste of blood filling my mouth.

Shtyk looms over me, face twisted with fury. "You'll pay for that, you little shit." He straightens up, wiping my spit from his cheek with the back of his hand. "Kolya!" he barks, eyes never leaving mine. " Poidi syida . Prismotry za etim pidorom while I sort out the next step. Da ?"

Kolya is a bold stocky figure that appears in the doorway, all muscle in tight clothes. Shtyk turns to leave, pausing to glance back at me over his shoulder. "Don't go nowhere, mal’chik . Me and you, we got unfinished business."

The door slams shut with a finality that sends ice through my veins. Kolya looms in the corner, leaning against the wall, silent and watchful, massive hands folded across his chest.

I close my eyes, trying to calm the panic rising in my throat.

Think, arsehole, think.

But thoughts won’t come. Instead, a fresh wave of despair crashes over me. I'm alone, at the mercy of a madman with a grudge and I don’t even know what that grudge is about. And for the first time since this whole nightmare began, I'm actually truly terrified I might not make it out alive.