Mikhail
The garage doors block out the sunlight that tries to intrude on my self-imposed isolation. I need to be alone to think, and Rurik’s garage offers me a twisted sanctuary. The two-car garage looks benign to the uninitiated, but it feeds my anger. Heavy ropes hang off hooks from the ceiling, and neat racks of tools hang on a corkboard in order of size. Everything is mundane until Rurik handles it. The cement floor is cracked in places where a great weight has slammed against it.
Muscles shaking, I stride through a connecting door into the second garage where a vintage Mustang is stored. It’s amusing to actually see a car in here, knowing what this building was originally intended for. I lift back the protective cover from the front of the muscle car and stare at the black surface that shines, even in this dim light. Closing my eyes, I lean my hands against it and allow the feeling of guilt and love to agitate my insides.
My eyes open, and I lift my gaze to the locked gun cabinet on the wall. In the dark corner, I stare at the lock as if willpower alone can open it.
But I can’t stay still and start pacing back and forth, unable to focus on anything other than the increasingly quick pace of my steps. The knowledge that Maria has been taken from me gnaws at my heart.
It threatens to drive me mad.
There’s a loud knock on the door, and I stop pacing. I told them not to disturb me. “Leave me alone!” My voice is hoarse from disuse.
“Mikhail Ivanov.” A familiar voice sounds. “It’s Zakhar.”
I have no desire to see or speak to him, but I have to. Ultimately, Zakhar got what he wanted, even if it wasn’t the initial plan, and the Bratva has sided with him. But he must have information on the fight against Gunsyn to be here. Gunsyn, Alexander, and Ippolit set me up. They sent me to take Maria. They pitted me against Zakhar.
And now that she’s been taken away, I hate them even more.
I unlock the door and stare at Zakhar, refusing to step aside.
“So, this is where you’ve been hiding.” There’s no question in his voice as he brushes past me. A light switch flips on, revealing the deep lines in Zakhar’s face as he greets me with a strained smile. His eyes lack warmth, and there’s urgency in his voice.
“We need to talk about Gunsyn now, Mikhail Ivanov.”
I walk toward a small table surrounded by folding chairs, each step grounding me in the present moment. “Speak then,” I reply curtly.
Zakhar eyes Rurik’s setup of tools that, when used the right way, can cause significant pain.
“Despite your efforts to bring about a truce,” Zakhar begins, “it hangs by a thread. Gunsyn’s men have only become bolder. They’ve begun attacking the Lanzzare.”
Anger flares in my voice. “I’ll spare no one if they break the truce,” I vow.
“It will be hard to make threats,” he rubs his face, “without the manpower to deliver on those threats.”
I bite back my angry retort at his words. Who whittled away at my manpower, Zakhar? He spares me a quick glance before he continues.
“The Lanzzare don’t fully trust you either, which gives Gunsyn an advantage.”
My anger becomes darker and deadlier as I comprehend the warning underneath his words. “Your concern is duly noted,” I answer calmly.
But I can tell he’s not convinced of my sincerity.
My gaze falls on a hacksaw mounted on the wall behind Zakhar’s head. The blade is positioned in a way so that it appears to be going through his neck. The sick illusion amuses me. It makes me smile deviously, and my expression startles Zakhar as his gaze narrows hard on me, but he looks troubled.
“Slushaite menya, Mikhail Ivanov.” Zakhar chooses his words carefully. “Forget that my daughter is with Sorokin at his estate. Gunsyn isn’t stupid enough to make an attempt there.”
Another thought suddenly dawns on me. A searing question that I cannot help but ask.
“This is everything you wanted, Zakhar Sergeyevich.” My voice is steady as I clench my fists tight. “Did you and Sorokin conspire together? Was it you who suggested Maria to go to him?”
Zakhar doesn’t respond to the accusation, and his silence frees my rage. He may not have orchestrated it, but I know he’s never wanted me with his daughter. What is the point of getting Maria back if all Zakhar will do is take her from me again?
“Answer me, damn you! Eto moi prikaz!” I grab for him, but he’s quick, far quicker than his age.
A folding chair flies up to block my attempt and it crashes to the concrete, knocking another down with it. The noise must have been heard from outside. Rurik rushes in through the door and stops long enough to eye us before Larissa races in behind him.
“Stop it.” Larissa steps between us before Rurik can act. “Kolya, calm down. This isn’t helping anyone, including you.”
“Stay out of this, Lara,” I reply, my eyes still locked on Zakhar.
“Zakhar, leave!” she shouts, holding onto my shirt. “Now.”
Zakhar hesitates for a moment, challenging my gaze before nodding and leaving the garage. Rurik walks out with him, and I freeze, listening. But there’s no resulting commotion. Zakhar has gotten away with it again, I think bitterly. My head feels dizzy, and the room threatens to spin around me. I grasp Larissa’s hands and hold onto her.
“Maria loves you, Kolya,” Larissa speaks softly. Her soothing voice reaches me through the hate that’s settled over me since Maria left. “Maria is safe. She will be okay.”
“How can you believe that?” I snap, yanking my hands out of her grasp. “She’s being held hostage by that old bastard who think she can dictate our lives, and all you can say is that she’ll be okay?”
Larissa glares at me sternly, and her patience has clearly been tested beyond her tolerance. “You must believe she’ll return when she can. And when Maria returns, you must be ready to protect her as you’ve promised. Don’t pick fights that you can’t afford to have right now.”
I take a deep breath and try to release the tension in my body. It’s useless. “I refuse to wait like a shamed coward while someone else has her.”
“There’s no other choice, Kolya.” Anxiety creeps into her voice. “Sorokin lives in a fortress. You can’t go after him.”
“That’s where you’re wrong.” I stride into the next room and search for the keys to the gun cabinet. “No one keeps what’s mine from me.”
“Don’t do this,” Larissa pleads, reaching for my arm to stop. “Please, don’t.”
I feel above the cabinet and grasp the keys, holding them up for only a second before Larissa snatches them out of my grasp. I struggle with her, grasping her around the waist, and yank them out of her hand.
“Kolya!” she shouts. “This is not the smart thing to do.”
“Smart?” I chuckle like a lunatic and unlock the cabinet. “You think I give a damn about being smart right now? All I want is Maria back by my side, where she belongs. And if Sorokin won’t give her back willingly, then I’ll take her by force.”
“And what happens when you get both yourself and Maria killed?” Larissa pleads, her voice breaking. “Don’t you think it’s worth waiting just a little longer to devise a plan that won’t endanger her?”
“Endanger her? She’s already in danger every second she’s with that bastard!” I bellow, my rage reaching its peak.
Rows of automatic rifles are neatly lined up in the gray metal cabinet. I pull one out, and my hand caresses the hard metal like I’ve been reunited with my first love. My mind creates vivid thoughts of vengeance and bloodshed, and I imagine ripping Sorokin apart piece by piece until he begs me for mercy. I’ll teach him not to steal from me.
“Go be with your husband, Lara,” I growl, turning away from her. “One of us deserves to be happy.”
“Please, Mikhail-” she starts, but I cut her off.
“Enough,” I tell her steadily. “I’m going after Maria, and nothing will stop me.”
Before she can say another word, I storm out of the garage, my chest beating like a war drum. Pavel has arrived and speaks to Rurik, casting cautious glances at me as he does so. Rurik’s stance straightens when he sees the automatics I carry in my arms. He hurries toward me, but Larissa shouts at him to stay away from me.
“Pavel, drive.” I stop long enough to look for Zakhar. Shocked and worried faces stare back at me as I scan the wide-open yard for one face. Zakhar isn’t around. Maybe he’s smart enough to hide again. Good. Because I don’t know what I would do to him right now.
I slide into the driver’s seat of the SUV, and I race the engine, smirking savagely as it roars to life. The mad rage within me spreads like a predatory beast eager for the hunt. My grip tightens around the steering wheel as I back away from the house. I watch a tearful Larissa hold onto Rurik’s arm, and a moment of guilt tries to stop me, but I smash it down.
Desmier chose his own path. He wasn’t going to die of old age.
Pavel hesitates, and then the words rush out. “Just the two of us?” His hands rest on his knees, gripping them tight.
“You think it’s a bad idea too?” I ask harshly.
He pauses. “It could be better.”
“Either Sorokin gives Maria back willingly, or I’ll kill him to get her back,” I promise him. “Fuck the cost.”
Pavel nods but remains silent as the SUV weaves in and out of traffic along the Long Island Expressway, heading toward the Thruway. He sits solemnly, awaiting imminent destruction as I charge forward to victory.
“Come hell or high water, I will bring you back, Maria,” I vow silently, my eyes fixed on the road ahead. “And if Sorokin stands in my way, he’ll pay the ultimate price.”
With that thought burning like a beacon in my mind, I speed toward Sorokin’s estate, each mile bringing me closer to my love-and the confrontation that awaits us both.