24. ISABELLA

Chapter 24

ISABELLA

“Isabella?” A soft voice pierces the haze of unconsciousness, pulling me back to the surface. “Hey, sleeping beauty.”

Something sharp and acrid floods my senses, burning its way through my nostrils and down my throat. The smell is overpowering, like a pungent wave of ammonia, making my eyes water and my stomach twist violently in protest. I instinctively recoil, gasping for air as my eyes snap open, the world blurring into focus.

“Son of a fucking bitch!” I manage to yell, but the words barely leave my mouth before a surge of nausea overwhelms me. I double over, retching uncontrollably, and the bile rises fast, spilling out and splattering all over the shiny, expensive Italian shoes in front of me.

The rich, leathery scent mingles with the acrid stench that brought me back, making my stomach heave again, but all I can focus on is the dark stain spreading across those once-pristine shoes. It gives me an odd sense of satisfaction ruining the bastard’s shoes that shoved that shit beneath my nostrils as I retch again.

“Isabella!” This time, it’s a familiar voice calling to me. It’s laced with panic, and as I vomit once more, the memory of what happened races back to me. “Oh, fuck! I’m so sorry.”

He kneels beside my chair, holding out a bottle of water. My breathing is shallow as my stomach slowly stops churning. I go to take the water and realize I’m tied to a chair.

“What the fuck!” I start pulling at my constraints, and as I do… the bile rises once again, and this time, I turn my head and vomit all over Harry Thompson’s designer outfit.

“Jesus!” Harry hisses, but to my surprise and disappointment, he’s not worried about his clothes but about me. “Fuck, I told you we should’ve got a pregnant-safe sedative. I’ve hurt her.”

“Stop whining about that!” The other male voice commands. “I read that stress can bring out this response in a pregnant woman. That’s all this is—stress.”

“That’s so comforting,” Harry shouts at the other man. “That you actually took the time to read how to treat a pregnant woman, but Isabella is carrying twins, so it probably put even more stress on her body!”

“Jesus!” The other man hisses. “I thought you said you were over your childhood crush on Isabella?”

“I’ll always care about her!” Harry throws back at the man. “Someone had to keep an eye on her and make sure my crazy sister didn’t hurt her.”

What the fuck is the asshole talking about? I lift my head to look at the man whose shoes I vomited on, and my eyes widen in surprise. “You look like my mother.”

“That’s because she was my aunt,” the man tells me, smiling. “Hello, Isabella, I’m your cousin Lucien Andreev.”

“Isn’t it Zhukov?” I ask. “I thought your last name was Zhukov!”

Lucien shakes his head. “My father took on the Andreev last name in order to become Pakhan of my mother’s family’s organization. He was born a Zhukov.”

“Please, have some water,” Harry says. He gently cups my head and brings the bottle to my lips. “I’m sorry I knocked you out the way I did. I didn’t want to hurt you or the babies.”

“So dropping the blood flow to my brain to make me pass out was your best option?” I take a few sips of water because my throat is dry as fuck and burning like wildfire. “Like you even care, you fucking pervert!” I sneer at Harry.

“Isabella…” Harry begins, but I headbutt him, and he staggers back.

“I told you not to get too close to her, Harry,” Lucien says impatiently.

“Shut up, Lucien,” Harry barks, his eyes darkening as he turns to me.

“You don’t have to pretend around me.” My lip curls nastily at the anger now bringing in the depths of Harry’s eyes. “I already know what a fucking pervert you are and how you hurt Stacy.”

“Harry, maybe you should wait outside? You’re just upsetting her,” Lucien suggests. “Of course Isabella’s going to believe your fucking crazy sister. That’s what sociopaths do. They weave their spell around their victims.”

“Stacy is not a sociopath!” I shout at them, but something at the back of my mind is trying to throw doubt over my convection. “She’s been abused and treated like shit by her family for years and years. Now she’s fallen under the spell of that sick fuck Lev Belov.”

“Told you!” Lucien sighs and steps up to Harry and, to my surprise, kisses him. “Let me handle this, my love.”

“Fuck!” My brows knit together in shock. “You’re gay?” Images of Harry and I in his swimming pool, him giving me my first-ever kiss, flash through my mind. “But…”

“You’re the only girl I’ve ever loved or been attracted to.” Harry gives me a sad smile. “My sister used that against me too.”

“Go put some ice on your head and get cleaned up,” Lucien orders. He takes off his shoes and kicks them after Harry. “Get these cleaned too.” He turns back toward me. “I’ll handle my cousin.”

I watch Harry walk out the door of the… My eyes rove around the room, and I take it in. It looks like a home office and library. Thick drapes cover the windows off to one side where an antique desk is. I’m sitting near the warm fireplace, tied to a wooden chair.

Lucien takes a seat in front of me in a leather armchair, and his hazel eyes, which mirror mine and my brother’s, assess me. He is a very handsome man and carries himself with confidence and authority—great, another alpha male.

“It’s nice to finally meet you, cousin.” He breaks the heavy silence that filled the room after Harry’s departure. “I’m sorry it had to be under such drastic circumstances.”

“Am I your prisoner now?”

“No.” Lucien shakes his head.

“Then why am I tied to a chair?”

“I thought it would be best considering your reaction to Harry in the alley,” Lucien replies. “Harry saw what you did to Lev.” He pulls an impressed face. “Nice moves by the way. But you should’ve just shot him in the head.”

“I’m not you!” My eyes narrow.

Lucien sighs and shakes his head. “My grandmother and Roman warned Marco and Karina about building a dollhouse around you to protect you from our world.” His brow creases. “Your mother wanted you to grow up knowing some normalcy before you were forced to marry a Belov and be plunged into this lifestyle.”

“How’s this lifestyle working out for you !“ I leave no doubt as to what I mean.

“Surprisingly well.” Lucien nods. “My grandmother, she’s old school, was more of the instigator in riling my men against me.” He gives a slow smile, his eyes darkening dangerously. “They soon realized that I may have a different sexual orientation, but it didn’t make me any less of a man.”

“I guess all you have to do in the bloody world of Bratva is split open a few heads to prove what a big man you are!”

“Oh, Isabella!” Lucien laughs. “This is your world too, my beautiful cousin. No matter how much you bitch and moan about it, this is the world you were born to.”

“Whatever!” This argument is getting tired. I just want to get whatever shit I’m supposed to get and then get the fuck as far away from these bloodthirsty pricks as possible. “What am I doing here?” I glance around. “Where is here?”

“Where your brother was supposed to bring you and Andrey,” Lucien tells me.

My brows shoot up in surprise. “ You’re the messenger?”

He shakes his head. “God, no. I was thirteen when your mother died.”

“Then how do you know this is where I need to be?”

“I inherited all the family secrets when I became the Andreev Pakhan,” Lucien tells me. “One of those secrets was the plans your mother had for you and your brother to keep you safe from whoever it was she was running from.”

“Who was my mother running from?”

“That’s why we’re here,” Lucien tells me.

“Where is here?”

“Fairbanks, Alaska,” Lucien answers.

“Alaska?” I choke. “I’m in fucking Alaska?” I stare at him in disbelief. “How long was I out for?”

“A good eight hours,” Lucien tells me. “I was about to call the doctor until the head chef here—a very nice lady, by the way—gave us some of her wake-up drops.”

“Yes, thanks for that. My nose is still burning,” I crick my neck, “and I have a stiff neck.”

“Sorry about that, but we didn’t think you’d go nicely with Harry if he asked you.”

“No, I’d have shot him,” I admit. “And aimed to kill.”

“See!” Lucien laughs. “There’s that Bratva and Mafia streak in you.”

“Fuck off!”

“Harry saved your life,” Lucien tells me. “His fucking crazy sister and her sociopathic boyfriend were going to lock you up after you’d led them here. Then, when your babies were born, you’d no longer be of any use to them.” He raises his eyebrows and shrugs. “So they’d either kill you or, knowing Lev Belov as I do, he’d probably keep you as a plaything for him and Stacy.” His eyes narrowed, and anger burned in their depths. “I’ve seen what he does to his playthings.”

“Stacy would never do that to me!“ But doubt is starting to creep into my mind.

Especially as I was told she was dead and that Lev had beaten her to death. Then there’s the question of how the fuck did she know where to find me, and right at the same time Lev did.

“No, of course not, because you know Stacy so well, and she’d never betray you.” Lucien holds my gaze. I’m struck by how much he looks similar to my mother. “It’s admirable how you’re trying to cling to your loyalty to your best friend. But here’s a word of advice, cousin: it’s usually those the closest to us that stab us in the back.”

“Or, it’s just the fucked up crime world where you can’t trust anyone, and everything out of everyone’s mouths that is part of it is a lie!” Before he can answer, I change the subject. “So what happens now that I’m where I’m supposed to be?”

“Haven’t you been told all this already?” Lucien’s eyes narrow. “I thought Konstantin would’ve explained it all.”

“All Konstantin said was that our mother was working on one of the most powerful drugs that had many potential uses,” I blurt out before I can stop myself and feel compelled to continue the story. “My brother told me that our mother wanted us to make a journey up north to meet someone who will hand me her legacy and information that will heal wounds and hopefully keep more of her family from dying.” My eyes widen. “You gave me some of that shit, didn’t you?”

Lucien’s brows draw together, and he looks at me confused. “What shit?”

“Don’t fucking lie to me.” I start wiggling against my bonds once again. “You’ve drugged me, so I’ll talk.” My eyes narrow. “If you didn’t look so much like my mother and a bit like my brother, I’d be doubting who you are right now.”

“Isabella…” Lucien’s brows knit a bit more tightly together. “I swear I’d never drug you. I’d never risk the life of your children. They’re very important to all of us.”

“Fuck you, no one is getting my babies!“ My voice starts to rise as I start twisting, pulling at the silky ropes that have me strapped to a chair.

“No one wants your babies…” Lucien stops himself. “Okay, there are a few crime families I know, including the Belovs, who do. But I can assure you the Andreevs and Zhukovs don’t.“ He pauses. “Okay, maybe if I haven’t gotten an heir by the time I’m ready to retire, I will announce one of your children as my heir.”

“So you do want my babies!”

“No.” Lucien shakes his head, getting annoyed. “I want your son or daughter to be the next Andreev Pakhan. But that’s way, way, way in the future. Not for another eighteen years or so. But I do have a vested interest in my baby cousin’s well-being.”

“Great!” I roll my eyes. “So you’ve already sealed the fate of my kids!”

“I’d say Andrey and I have ensured they have a future,“ Lucien corrects me. “And because they’re the next heirs to two large organizations, made even stronger by the alliance your union with Andrey has brought…” He trails off, leaving me to add up what that means as if it’s going to sweeten the pot for me about living in the dark underworld.

“My kids’ lives are screwed because, like me, they won’t be given a choice to become what they want to become,” I point out bitterly. “Because even before they were conceived, their entire lives have been mapped out for them.”

Lucien’s eyes harden and become colder. “Isabella, have you actually taken a good look at the world today?”

My eyes narrow. “What does that mean? I know what the world looks like. It’s a mess. But that doesn’t mean my kids have to be part of this… this chaos I’ve been dragged into.”

Lucian lets out a sigh, leaning back slightly, though his gaze never leaves mine. “You think the world you grew up in is normal, don’t you? That it’s better than this one? But the truth is, the world you know is just as twisted, if not more, than the one you’ve been so desperate to escape. “

I scoff, shaking my head. “Are you seriously trying to justify the Bratva to me? To paint this life of crime as somehow better?”

He leans in closer, his voice lowering. “I’m not justifying anything. I’m telling you that the world you think is normal is anything but. It’s full of lies and corruption—just like the underworld. The difference is, in our world, at least we know who the enemy is. There are rules and codes we follow. There is order in the chaos. “

My voice drips with sarcasm. “Oh, so you’re saying that because there’s some semblance of order, that makes the Bratva better?”

Lucien’s jaw clenches, but he keeps his tone measured. “I’m saying that in the so-called normal world, the people pulling the strings are the same ones who smile to your face, shake your hand, and then stab you in the back. They manipulate, control, and destroy lives every day. But it’s all hidden behind a veneer of respectability.“ His eyes flash with disgust. “The politicians, the businessmen—you know, the ones you think are legitimate—they’re no different from us. Hell, some of them are worse because they prey on people’s ignorance and trust. At least in our world, you know what you’re dealing with.”

I stare at him, the weight of his words sinking in despite my resistance. “So what? You’re saying the Bratva is a better option?”

“I’m saying stop being so fucking naive, Isabella, and open your eyes.” He glances at the door and then back to me. “The world isn’t black and white. It’s shades of gray.” He gestures with hands. “As fucked up as the Bratva or Mafia and any other crime family may be, there’s still a certain honesty to it.”

“I’ve heard all this before,” I tell him. “Is this the crime lord mantra from some handbook you’re all given as soon as you can talk?” I snort. “Indoctrinating new recruits into a world of crime 101?”

Lucien sighs and shakes his head looking at me like I’m a lost cause. “Out there, on your own with your kids… How far do you think you’re going to get?” he asks. “Because, dear cousin, like it or not, you have quite a little bounty on your head.”

I look at him in alarm. “What do you mean? There’s a reward out for me in the crime world—what? I’m on the Crime World’s most wanted list?”

Lucien laughs. “I guess you can put it that way. And cousin, you and your babies are the rewards, especially because you come with an almost guaranteed alliance to some of the most powerful crime families in the world.“ His brows raise. “Then there’s the few extra cherries you and your twins come with—Velvet Transport, Strategic Packaging, and oh… let’s not forget direct access to the Reaper.” His brow furrows. “If he’s still alive.”

“Okay, I get it. My kids are the royalty of the crime world.” I lift my hand as much as I can to do a dramatic fist pump. “Yay.” I sneer. “I know my father is Strategic Packaging, and the Belovs are Velvet Transport, but who the hell is the Reaper, and why do I get them direct access to whoever it is?”

Lucien’s brows shoot up as he stares at me. “Your father’s the Reaper, Isabella. He’s the crime world’s hitman.”

“What?” I splutter. “I’m hoping by hitman, you’re referring to him being an attorney that puts crime lords that have overstepped in the crime world away!”

“Marco defends the criminals, but those he can’t defend and have been sentenced to the death penalty by a crime boss, your father carries out the sentencing, shall we say.” Lucien grins, enjoying the look of shock that must be on my face.

“You’re lying,” I splutter. “I don’t believe you!”

“I’d say ask him yourself, but we don’t know where he is or if he and your brother are even still alive!” Lucien’s words send a cold shiver down my spine.

“I thought Konstantin went to save him?” My eyes widened, and my throat is dry. “Do you think I can get untied, please?”

“If I untie you, are you going to behave?” Lucien asks.

“Yes.” I sigh. “I promise.”

“Konstantin went to the lodge and walked into a trap. Temur managed to escape to get back-up but when Temur got back to the lodge there was no one there.” Lucien’s words send a cold arrow straight to my heart.

Lucien stands and unties me, handing me the bottle of water Harry was feeding me earlier. I look at it suspiciously. He sighs and takes three big gulps of it, pulling out some wipes. He cleans the top and hands it to me.

“Satisfied?” He looks at me questioningly.

I nod, take the bottle, and start to down the water.

“Whoa there!” Lucien sweeps in and grabs the bottle. “Small sips, or you’re going to be hurling again.”

“Sorry.” My stomach starts that lurch thing it does when it’s getting ready to reject the sustenance I’ve just given it out the same way it came in. I breathe through the nausea.

“Come sit closer to the fire on the sofa.” Lucien offers me his hand.

I take it, and we move to the seating area, which is right near the crackling fire.

“Would you like a blanket?” he asks, and I nod. He pulls the soft throw from the back of the sofa and wraps it around my legs. “There you go.”

“How long have you known that Stacy was working with Lev?” I take the water back.

Lucien turns toward me on the sofa. “About a year or so.” He shrugs. “I tried to warn Konstantin as best I could about Lev and Stacy, but he wouldn’t listen. He knows about my relationship with Harry and called me a lovestruck fool blinded by my dick.”

“That does sound like Konstantin.” I nod. “But I have to agree with my brother not to believe you because you’re in a relationship with Harry. You do know what Harry did to Stacy when she was thirteen, right?”

Lucien sighs again. “If you’re talking about Harry abusing Stacy, that’s a lie made up by a very disturbed teenager who didn’t want to share her best friend with him.”

“What are you talking about?”

“According to Harry, Stacy stormed into his room one day and told him in no uncertain terms that if he ever went near you that she’d cut his cock off.“ Lucien’s words make my heart lurch.

“Wait!” I give my head a small shake. “Stacy told Harry I had a crush on him?”

“I’m afraid so.” Lucien nods. “And she wasn’t very happy about sharing you.”

“Bullshit.” I stare at him in disbelief. “Stacy would never be like that.”

“How many other friends did you have?” Lucien asks. “And don’t tell me it’s because your father isolated you.”

“It was because of that,” I defend my friendship with Stacy. “To be honest though…” I stop myself from saying what was on my mind and change the subject as I realize what Lucien is hinting out is not as far-fetched as I want it to be. “Are you sure you didn’t drug my water?”

“Oh, for fuck sake.” Lucien grabs the bottle and finishes the water. “No drugs!”

“Now I have no water either!”

“Harry!” Lucien barks. “I know you’re at the door. Please bring Isabella some water and something to eat.” He looks at me. “What would you like?”

“Are we at a hotel?”

“No.” He shakes his head. “We’re at your brother’s new home—or at least it will be his new home in the not-so-distant future.”

“Do all you Bratva people talk like that!”

“Like what?”

“In clipped sentences, never revealing too much, and talking around things?”

“I guess we do,” Lucien admits. “Comes with always assessing who we’re talking to.”

“Uh…” Harry’s voice comes from the office door. “What will you have, Isabella?”

“Ginger tea and cookies.” I turn and glare at him over the back of the sofa.

“How about some food?” Harry asks.

“I’ll have the tea first.”

“Sure.” Harry nods and leaves the room.

“Do you treat all your boyfriends like shit?” I look at Lucien.

“I don’t understand?” Lucien’s brows knit. “I treat Harry very well. I actually saved his life and removed him from a bad situation.”

“And now you treat him like a servant,” I point out.

“We all have our place, Isabella,” Lucien tells me. “There’s a hierarchy to our world.”

“So what I’m hearing is that the Bratva is stuck in the dark ages and the master-slave dynamic.” I suck in a breath, trying to stem the disgust I have for that kind of dynamic. “The Bratva’s strict hierarchies and outdated rules are archaic and oppressive.”

“I can see how you’d think that,” Lucien tells me. “You grew up in a very strict household where your father was both trying to protect you, keep your purity, and still give you a taste of living in what you call the ‘normal’ world.”

“Are you mocking me?”

“No, cousin. I’m simply pointing out that even though you were raised with the illusion of freedom and normalcy, your father still exercised tight control over your life. The dynamics you experienced, though different, were still a form of hierarchy—just one you might not have recognized as such.”