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19. Chapter 19

Son of a donkey fucking bitch!

I let out a guttural groan as Viktor's sharp kick connects with my ribs, causing me to double over in pain. The force is so strong that I can feel the wind being knocked out of me. My teeth are clenched tightly together, and my entire body tenses up for a brief moment before collapsing to the ground. Through the haze of agony, I can hear the faint sound of bones cracking, but I hope it's just my elbow taking most of the impact instead of my ribcage. As I lie there, gasping for air and trying to regain control of my limbs, I can feel the adrenaline coursing through my veins, urging me to fight back. But I stay still, knowing that letting Viktor think he has broken something will give me the upper hand in this vicious battle. He may be a weedy cunt, but he is also cunning and ruthless, and I have to play dirty if I want to come out on top in this deadly game we're playing.

I'm counting down the minutes in my head. Telling myself that it will be over soon and perhaps I might just make it home to Jeyla and DJ. Unless of course he pulls the gun and shoots me, then, it's game over… for me at least.

This operation has been in the works for quite some time, with numerous unexpected twists and turns along the way—as of most recently of course—but we've finally gathered enough dirt on this bastard and all his allies to bury him for good. I wheeze out a laugh as I push myself up onto my knees and spit out the blood I can feel gathering in my mouth where the prick sucker punched me earlier.

"You're laughing?" Viktor questions as he rolls the sleeves of his navy-blue Prada shirt until the material is coiled around his elbows. "Pick him up," Viktor orders, gesturing to two of his goons standing beside him and they obey his command, lifting me up off the ground and up to my feet. Fuck, if my feet weren't bound, I would have knocked his head right off his chin. "Come on, share the joke so we can all laugh, Captain."

"Oh, I'll tell you, but I don't think you'll find it quite as amusing." I utter with a dark smirk.

"Try me."

I shrug, "All right." When the cable ties around my wrists loosen, I pull my hands free and hold them up for him, wagging my fingers. "See, I told you that you wouldn't like it." The arrogant smile on Viktor's face falls as he stares at his two men—who are in fact Special Forces Officers. They release their hold on me and Jack, the one to my right, kneels down to cut the ties around my ankles. Ah, the dumbfounded look on his face was worth all the blows I took. Viktor's hand swiftly reaches behind to draw out his gun, but I step forward, eyes narrowed. "Ah, I wouldn't do that if I were you." All eight men that were standing in the room draw their guns and aim them straight at Viktor.

Viktor's cobalt blue eyes dart wildly around the room, widening in disbelief as he takes in the scene. "What the fuck…?" he mutters, his voice tinged with confusion and rage.

I step forward, my fists clenched tightly at my sides, each step sending a sharp ache through my bruised ribs. But the pain is irrelevant now—this moment is mine. I can't help the grim satisfaction that curls through me as I see the dawning realization on his face.

"You know why arrogant, self-obsessed assholes like you always lose, Viktor?" I begin, my voice steady, each word dripping with the contempt I've harboured for far too long. "It's because you all carry this delusional belief that you're invincible, like some kind of untouchable God. You're so wrapped up in your own bullshit, so lost in your own inflated sense of self-importance, that you don't even bother to know the names—or hell, even the faces—of the men you hire to protect you and carry out your dirty work."

I keep moving closer, watching as confusion morphs into fear in his eyes. "Look around, Viktor," I continue, my tone sharpening. "Every single one of these men you think are yours—aren't. They're Special Forces Officers; men we strategically swapped in with your own when they fired on us earlier. We only needed one familiar face to pull it off—Jack, or should I say, Sergeant Jack Morris—and you didn't even notice anything was different."

Viktor's expression shifts from shock to utter disbelief, his mind racing to process the betrayal. I stop just inches from him, the tension between us crackling like a live wire.

The colour drains from Viktor's face as he scans the room, his eyes flicking from one man to the next, desperately searching for something—anything—that can save him from this reality. But there's nothing. Just the cold, hard truth staring him in the face.

His mouth opens and closes, as if he wants to say something, but no words come. The silence between us is thick, suffocating, and I can see the wheels turning in his mind, the frantic calculations as he tries to figure out where he went wrong, how he missed this. But the answer is simple. Arrogance. Hubris. The very things that always lead men like him to their downfall.

"You never even saw it coming," I finish, my voice low and laced with triumph. "Because you were too blinded by your own arrogance to see the trap closing in around you."

I take a step back, watching as Viktor's legs seem to buckle slightly beneath him. The power has shifted entirely now, and he knows it. I see the fear in his eyes, the realization that he's lost control; of this room, of his men, of his fate. He's no longer the one pulling the strings.

"You see," I continue, my tone almost conversational now, as if we're discussing the weather rather than his impending downfall, "men like you never last. You rise fast, burn bright, but it's always the same. You're so obsessed with your own power, your own image, that you forget the basics. You forget that real strength comes from knowing your enemy, from paying attention to the details. But you? You never even bothered to look."

Viktor swallows hard, his Adam's apple bobbing as he struggles to regain some semblance of control, but it's futile. His empire is crumbling around him, and he's powerless to stop it.

"And now," I say, leaning in close, my voice a low growl, "you're going to watch everything you built fall apart. As we speak everything you own… down to your silk boxers, are being seized."

I step back, giving him space to absorb the gravity of his situation. The room is silent, the tension thick as Viktor's eyes dart around, searching for some way out, some escape. But there is none. He's cornered, trapped by his own arrogance and the very men he thought he controlled.

This is the moment I've waited for—the moment when Viktor Lukin realizes that he's not the God he believed himself to be, but just another man brought low by his own hubris. And as I stand over him, watching the fear and despair fill his eyes, I know that justice has finally been served. The warehouse doors bust open and armed officers swarm in.

"Oh, and…" My hand fists and I swing my right arm, punching him with as much force and power as I can muster across the face. The moment my fist connnects with Viktor's jaw, I feel that satisfying crunch against my knuckles and it's satisfying as fuck. Viktor hits the floor like a sack of shit. "That's for the devastation you have caused my wife." I snarl icily, and kick away the gun that slips out of his grasps when he hits the floor. "And this…" Using the steelcap of my boot, I kick him, ramming it hard into his ribs and breaking at least two. Viktor lets out an ear-splitting cry and doubles over. That's how you break a fucking rib, you cunt. "…is for coming after my son."

"You think this is over?" Lukin wheezes, his words sharp and acidic. "You know as well as I do, they can't keep me in for long. I'll be out in twenty-four hours. I'm Viktor Lukin, one of the most powerful men in the world. They have nothing on me," he sneers confidently.

"Oh, we have plenty on you," I reply, my own voice laced with satisfaction. "There is no one left to save you this time, Viktor. You and every single one of your associates who aided and abetted you in the last ten years have been detained." The credence of my words hangs heavily in the air, a final nail in the coffin for Lukin's criminal empire.

I can see the defiance flicker in his eyes before they narrow into a glare. "You're bluffing."

"I assure you, I am not. From this day on, the only business you have will be cleaning toilets and scrubbing showers on your hands and knees in prison."

With all the evidence we have on him, he'll be transported back to Russia and serving a life sentence with no parole. As he stands there, trapped by our efforts and those of his former comrades, I'm fully relishing in his downfall.

Justice is finally being served for all those innocent people he has wronged over the years.

For the suffering Jeyla and I had to go through and every single second I had to spend away from my son and my family while running from him.

I smirk as the special forces officers handcuff Viktor. "Viktor Lukin, you are under arrest for the abduction of a minor, fifty-six counts of manslaughter…" And the list went on and on.

I stumble out of the chaotic scene, my body battered and bruised, but somehow still intact. I turn to face Jack, my partner in this dangerous game, and he extends his hand towards me. "Reyes," he drawls with a grin, "Congratulations. That was one hell of a bust." His grip is firm and reassuring as we exchange a one-armed bro-hug.

"I couldn't have done it without you," I tell him sincerely. "Knowing you were around to keep an eye on DJ through all of this meant a lot."

"Ah, don't mention it," Jack replies humbly. "It's all part of the job. And I have to say, you kept your cool in there. I would have done far more damage than break a couple of his ribs if he even dared speak about my wife like that."

"I could have killed him, believe me." I admit with a wry smile, but suddenly feel a sharp pain in my ribs, causing me to hiss.

"You should get checked out, bro," Jack advises with a smirk. "You look like you went ten rounds with Tyson."

"Nah, I'll be all right," I assure him through gritted teeth. "Thankfully the asshole couldn't kick for shit. Though, I must admit, I've never been more grateful for all those gruelling body conditioning exercises they made us do." I sigh. "I'm just looking forward to going home to my girl and kid and collapsing into bed for a long overdue sleep."

Jack guffaws, "Tell me about it. Make sure you rest up though when you get back home. As my wise mother once said, nothing heals a man faster than crawling into the arms of the woman he loves."

"Isn't that the truth," I murmur as Jack pats my shoulder in a brotherly manner uttering a ‘bye' before walking off to join the group of our crew members who are now engaged in conversation. Now the bounty on my head has been dealt with, my body is starting to relax, every muscle that has been taut with tension slowly loosens as the stress and adrenaline leave my system. With each step I take, I feel a throbbing sensation pulsing through my body from head to toe. It's as if every nerve is coming back to life after being numb for so long. My breathing slows and deepens as my senses begin to fully awaken, taking in the world around me with newfound clarity and relief.

I know deep in my soul that it was only by the grace of God that I am standing here, alive and victorious. Our mission was perilous and filled with danger at every turn, but somehow, we managed to outsmart Viktor and his allies. His thirst for blood and need to hunt me down led him to make careless mistakes, giving us the upper hand. And when our brothers from across the pond at the U.S Navy joined forces with us, commandeering a shipment of nuclear weapons hidden in crates of baby formula that Viktor was trying to smuggle across, along with other incriminating evidence fed to us from Jack—who has been deep under cover—we were able to bring down the fucker once and for all.

I'm fucking free. No more running, no more looking over my shoulder. I can finally go home and be with my family. The weight of the world feels like it lifts off my shoulders as I take a long deep breath and let myself believe that this nightmare is truly over, and our victory is real.

As the Globemaster's massive wheels finally kiss the tarmac at the airbase, my hands tremble uncontrollably. I can barely keep myself together, my heart racing with anticipation. The ten minutes it takes to taxi to a stop feel like a lifetime, my body thrumming with the desperate need to see Jeyla and DJ. I don't even know if she's been told I survived; if she's been spared the agony of thinking I was killed. But I know one thing, those last words I said to her, before we lost communication, would have devasted her.

The boys chant the lyrics to Sweet Caroline as we roll to a final halt, their voices bursting with exhilaration. We stand to disembark, each of us riding the high of a mission accomplished. Today, every single one of us stared death in the face and lived to tell the tale. The rush of survival, of beating the odds, surges through us all. The boys are buzzing, already talking about the celebration that's sure to come.

But for me, there's only one thought—one need—that drives me forward.

As we step off the plane, the roar of applause and cheers from the ground crew, squadron members, and our superiors washes over us like a wave. The sound is deafening, a symphony of relief and respect. We're welcomed back as heroes, but all I can think about is finding Jeyla in this crowd, holding her, reassuring her that I'm here—I'm alive.

"You look like you've been through hell, but it's great to see you, Captain." Chief Scott praises, holding his hand out for me to shake. I take it and give a firm squeeze while offering a quick nod of acknowledgement. My eyes scan the area in search of my girl, but she is nowhere to be seen.

"Sir, where are Jeyla and my son?" I ask over the deafening racket in the background. Chief Scott looks over my shoulder and gestures behind me. My eyes follow his and immediately lock with those captivating green orbs that floored me when I first saw them twenty years ago. The emerald irises of her eyes overflowing with tears seem to sparkle in the dim lighting around us, drawing me in with their magnetic pull. Fuck me, she's a beautiful sight. The crowd parts for us and for a moment, it feels like we are the only two people in the world, lost in each other's gaze amidst the chaos around us.

A look of relief washes over Jeyla's features, causing a sharp pang in my chest. My heavy duffel bag slips off my shoulder and thuds to the ground as I drop it to the floor of the airbase. In seconds, Jeyla is racing towards me from across the hangar, her long hair flying behind her like a dark banner. The sight of her makes all of my injuries fade away and I brace myself as she throws herself into my arms with such force that I almost stumble backwards.

"Oh, my God." Her voice is muffled against my neck as she weeps, her small frame shaking in my embrace. Despite the pain in my fractured ribs, I hold onto her tightly, feeling whole for the first time in what feels like years. My right hand curls around the nape of her neck and I press soft kisses along her shoulder, trying to soothe her trembling form. "Dean, I was so scared, I thought that he had killed you." Jeyla's words are choked with emotion as she pulls back to scan my face. "What has he done to you?" Her delicate fingers brush along the cuts and bruises that cover my face, souvenirs from the yearlong battle we fought and won.

My forehead presses against hers. "I'm alright, baby girl," I assure her. "It looks a lot worse than it is."

Jeyla gazes into my eyes and I use my fingers to brush away the endless stream of tears. "Is it over?"

I nod, "It's over, baby. He'll be looking at a life sentence. He'll never the see the light of day again." A look of relief floods her pretty face before she cups my face gently and brushes a kiss on my lips. "Where's DJ? Is he okay?"

Jeyla nods, "They had a doctor check him out. He's a little malnourished where he hasn't been fed properly, but he's on a drip right now, the doctor said he'll be fine by tomorrow. He's asleep inside. I'm just so relieved to have him back." She explains and presses her forehead to mine and adds, "To have you both back."

"Hey, come on baby girl, no more crying." Jeyla sobs even harder and I hold her tighter, my arms a safe haven for her. "I'm right here, we're all together."

"I know," she whimpers, sniffling adorably as she buries her face into my chest. The gentle tremble of her body matches the soft sound of her tears falling onto my shirt. "I think these are tears of reprieve. I've been mentally preparing myself for the worst for so long and now it's all coming out of me at once, I think." I'm familiar with that feeling all too well; the overwhelming release of emotions after holding them in for too long.

"I know, I feel the same, but we've both suffered enough. It's time we focus on us because I've fucking missed you like crazy, JJ." My voice cracks with emotion as I pull away slightly to look at her tear-stained face.

Jeyla sighs, pressing loving kisses over the bruises on my face. Her touch is gentle and filled with so much love and tenderness that it almost brings me to tears again. "I've missed you too," Jeyla whispers, brushing a kiss over my lips which my body immediately responds to. I wrap my arms around her waist, pulling her closer as we share a passionate kiss filled with months of longing and desire.

With a soft moan, Jeyla draws back from the kiss and gazes amorously into my eyes. "Shall we get our boy and go home, baby girl?" Her voice is full of hope and joy, mirroring the feelings that are bubbling up inside of me.

A smile tugs at the corners of my mouth as I nod in agreement. "Yes, let's go home, Captain." Jeyla moves to my side as I wrap my arm around her shoulder, ignoring the sharp pain in my ribs. "But first, we're going to the hospital to get you checked."

"JJ, I'm fine, really." I try to protest, but she cuts me off with a stern look.

"Dean?"

"Yeah?"

"Shut up," Jeyla retorts playfully, but I don't miss the hint of concern laced in her voice that makes me smile despite my injuries. We walk over to the main building where DJ is sleeping.

"Now, is that any way to treat and talk to your hero husband?"

"Ex-husband." I scoff, and using the hand draped across her shoulder I cup her chin, tip her head back and look down into her eyes when she adds, "We're no longer married."

"We'll have to rectify that immediately then, wont we?" Jeyla's brow goes up and the corner of her lip tips up in amusement.

"You think I'm marrying you again ?"

"As if you have any other choice. I will drag you down that aisle kicking and screaming if that's what it takes."

Jeyla's green eyes narrow challengingly, "I would love to see you try, Captain."

"And see you will, JJ." I reply, grinning back at her smugly, to which she rolls her eyes with a shake of her head.

"God, I hate you."

"And I love to hear it, baby girl."

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