Chapter 48

Victor

RED.

All I see is red, a haze of blood and fury and blinding, agonizing rage.

“You fucking chudovishche,” I snarl, my voice guttural and inhuman. “I’ll kill you. I’ll fucking destroy you, you sick urod!”

Ivan laughs, high and manic. “You’re welcome to try, bratishka. But the clock is ticking. Tick tock, Vitya. Tick fucking tock.”

The line goes dead, the dial tone echoing in my ear like a scream. For a moment, I can’t move, can’t breathe, can’t think past the hammering of my heart, the roaring in my skull.

And then I’m spinning, hurling my coffee against the wall with a howl of pure, unadulterated rage. It shatters, pieces of porcelain flying, but I don’t care. I don’t care about anything except the knowledge that the woman I love, the child I never knew I wanted, are in the hands of a monster.

And I put them there. With my arrogance, my pride, my fucking hubris.

Bozhe moi.

What have I done?

“Boss?” It’s Misha’s voice, wary and alarmed. “Boss, what is it? What’s happened?”

I look up at him, at Ari, their faces tight with concern. My brothers, my Bratva. The men I would kill for, die for.

But not this. Not her.

“He has them,” I rasp, my voice a broken, unrecognizable thing. “Ivan. He has Laura and Eli. He’s going to kill them unless I…”

I can’t finish, can’t force the words past the rasping, agonized hitching of my breath. Misha pales, understanding dawning in his eyes.

“Blyad,” he whispers, crossing himself.“What are you going to do?”

I laugh, a bleak, shattered sound. “What I have to,” I say, a cold, numb certainty settling over me. “What I should have done a long fucking time ago.”

I straighten, squaring my shoulders. It feels like every bone in my body is breaking, like every cell is screaming in protest.

But I don’t have a choice. I never did.

“Get the men together,” I order, my voice flat and dead. “Every last one of them. We’re going to war, brothers. And we’re not going to stop until Ivan Vasiliev is a fucking memory.”

Ari nods grimly, his jaw set. “What’s the plan, boss?”

I smile, a cruel, vicious thing. “The plan,” I say softly, “is to burn his world to the ground. To salt the fucking earth where he stands.”

I close my eyes, seeing Laura’s face, Eli’s. Feeling the tiny, fluttering kick of my unborn child beneath my palm.

“And then,” I whisper, a vow and a prayer, “I’m going to bring my family home. Whatever it takes. Whatever the cost.”

Just as I’m grappling with the chaos, the phone rings again. I snatch it up without a second thought.

“Vitya, where are you?” It’s Papa’s voice. Before I can even reply, he adds, “Ksenia and Yuri are safe. But Dimitry is dead.” Papa’s voice cracks. “They’ve got Eli and Laura.”