"It fūcking kills me inside.." Vladimirs voice falls to a whisper as he closes his eyes and takes a deep inhale. His pale hands visibly tremble over the steering wheel.
In an eerily collected voice, he continues. "..if another swine gets ahold of her..I will annihilate his entire family line ..I swear to God..I will wipe them out."
The seconds elapsing by were proving immensely difficult for him to restrain the chaos within. It took all his inner strength and resolve to keep the maelstrom shackled. He wanted nothing more than to ignite the entire resort and watch it burn to ashes, after reclaiming her ofcourse.
He knew he'd reclaim her, he was beyond incapable of relinquishing her. Freeing her from his clutches would prove his own destruction. Yet possessing her was necessary, as necessary as breathing oxygen. This was the effects of damage she caused to whatever was left of his sanity, beyond repairable.
His insides were burning with molten rage that consistently caused him to erupt in tremors. He hadn't perceived such a rage in a while, since the death of his parents. As if spiked swords were gutting him from inside out. His mind inflamed by thoughts of gruesome vengeance.
He'd make Doucette pay in the most horridly torturous of methods imaginable.
He desired for nothing more than to bludgeon Doucette to death. Or possibly feed Doucette's half battered body alive to hungry rats.
In the past it was one of his favorite torture methods for many of his sworn opponents he had the pleasure of defeating. With a glass of brandy and cigar, a classical Russian tune playing in the background, he'd watch them being eaten alive.
Now this certain rage anew made him desire nothing more than to wreak havoc on any who dared interfere between him and her. For that reason alone, his uncle Dimitri hadn't stalled him more than once. For that reason, none of his Molotov male cousins looked him in his murderous glare. Doing so would have garnered them a risk of fractured arms and legs.
Huxley stares at him forlornly. "I have not once ever thought wrong of your decisions. I'm here with you, am I not?"
He reaches out and clamps a reassuring hand over Vladimir's shoulder. "I suspect Grigori and Serge would be here as well, they love you too much just to let you head into this alone."
It took Vladimir extremely measured inner resolve not to personally murder Serge. He'd never imagined the day would arrive when Serge decided to double cross him.
Grigori and his uncle Dimitri insisted this wasn't double crossing, that Serge had spilled the beans for Katherine's plans after all. What enraged Vladimir even more was the fact that Serge hadn't revealed anything related to the matter till the day the girls escaped. What equally enraged him was of how slack Grigori was with his wife, allowing her freedom to get this far.
His uncle Dimitri placed emphasis on Katherine and Beverly's safe return, that he should forget about the Muslim girl and forgive both Serge and Grigori. This earned his uncle, a broken yet easily replaceable coffee table in a furious wordless response from the assassin.
Normally favouring Vladimir above his own sons, Dimitri had been in repleted disbelief by witnessing such aberrant behaviour by his beloved nephew. He had then come to terms with how important the girl meant to his nephew, and he'd left it at that. For the exception of offering Vladimir any reinforcements to recapture the girl.
After discovering the details about the high end slave auction from Vladimir, Dimitri knew that the purchasers would consist of both allies and foes. He had no desire of treading on thin ice. Over the years having constructed truce with many other Mafias, he wouldn't jeopardise that above some unrelated girl to his family. Yet he dreaded what Vladimir would do on his own. But he couldn't muster the courage to apprehend his nephew, he was his beloved sisters son and he was a most valuable asset to the Molotov Mafia.
Vladimir knew this, and it irascibly disheartened him that his uncle Dimitri refused to provide reinforcements. As a feared and respected assassin, he always had all five of his uncles back in their times of plight.
Yet in his time of plight, his most favourite and the youngest uncle Dimitri, the boss of the Molotov Mafia, retreated away. So here he was, alone with the exception of Huxley who's always remained loyal to the core. No wonder why his father was best friends with his valet, Huxley was a true friend in the time of plight.
He looks over at his father's valet and offers a solemn nod of acknowledgment. "Good to know you're by my side Huxley..however don't mention those two in my presence again. Fuck them, I have nothing to do with those two. Had uncle Dimitri not been my beloved matushka's brother, I would fail to see why I should respect him."
He held strongly to the quaint belief of respecting elders of the family unless they were trying to end one's life, then it was an entirely different matter altogether. So as much as he was loathing both Serge and Grigori, he couldn't bring himself to disrespect their father. He still loved his uncle since his uncle loved him more than his own sons.
But yet he fully understood why his uncle was refusing to help him attain her back. He sensed that his uncle wanted to show him she wasn't worth it. That she wasn't worth the spark that would ignite a raging fire between the Molotovs and their allies. A fire that took years to vanquish. Perhaps this was what Doucette was expecting out of this, a full out war to weaken the Molotov Mafia.
But whatever may be the case, all Vladimir could think of currently was to find her. Everything else could be dealt with afterwards, he had to have her in a safe vicinity. Thoughts of her were eating him alive and he didn't even desire death for himself to end these thoughts as he had before when she dwelled in his manor.
She's worth enflaming the entire world on fire...
How could he wish for his own death at a time knowing that she would fall into the wrong hands and someone else would get to experience her in ways he had forbid himself from?
Out of the sudden care and respect for her modesty, he had painstakingly barred himself from the euphoria she could have offered him.
The inner demon within him was making him regret the decision of not claiming her virginity and her entire being when he had the chance to. She would have been under his control, unlike Grigori who had given too much freedom to Beverly.
"Are you certain about your scheme ?" Huxley questions him with a grave face. "Is everything prepared and in place ?"
Vladimir looks back towards the resort, his voice on an irritable edge. "Not enough time for drill practice...may the Providence of Christ be on my side, amen."
He hadn't had the spare time enough to attend Church for a brief prayer. It was one of his top priorities as soon as he returned home with her. However he was wearing the Orthodox Cross necklace his mother used to have him wear growing up. He hadn't wore it since the death of his parents, and today he realized how wrong he was to have not worn it for all these years.
Huxley nods, a dismal smile nearly reaches his lips. "Indeed for a good cause, may it be just that."
Vladimir's shoulders stiffen hearing these words. He wondered if his own motives for this were a good cause or not. He couldn't suppress nor stamp out all the dirty thoughts he would have regarding her when she dwelled a few rooms away even if he hadn't forced himself on her.
To him the fact of the matter was, just because he couldn't have her then what made anyone else think they could ?
Fuck that! Good cause or not, she's mine to keep..
Instead of voicing his sinister thoughts regarding her, he mentions confidently."The amount of fortune I've spent in these two nights alone should suffice it enough to work in my favour."
It was true, had his uncle supplied him with men and weaponry, he wouldn't have had to utilize bribery costing him in the millions. His original plan was to bombard the entire resort after recapturing her. He could have personally driven a military tank through the lobby.
The Molotov Bratva were one of the most powerful Bratva amongst the Eastern European Mafia families. Few people were aware that many Russian Mafia's own tanks and submar
ines.
He knew in Eastern Europe, driving a tank around casually was a common sight. He drove it himself many times during his visits there. Vladimir had made a mental note after this mission, to invest in his own tanks and submarines instead of relying on his uncle.
However, now he had a different set of plans for the current mission. A mission he would be putting to test in five hours time, right before the slave auction began.
◆◆◆
The ferocity of the wind whipped his face like a thousand needles, as he stared down through the open door way of the jet. Down below, the city lights of Dubai sparkled like lost jewels amongst the desert.
He rechecked his black parachute backpack, and then adjusted his silver face mask. Before he knew it, adrenaline pumped through his body in rapid speed as he leaped out into the sky.
He loved every second of it, as the pressure of the wind unsuccessfully battered his strong body. He loved the feeling of abundant freedom in the skies. The first time he had done this was at the age of eighteen and sensed what it must feel like for a bird. After that day, he'd sky dive for enjoyment and thrill often enough.
He had become so good at it that he'd practice landing on painted targets and buildings. His uncle Dimitri was beyond impressed that he enlisted Vladimir as a tutor in this art for any of his other cousins to learn. Both Yigor and Serge were keen on the lessons and learned fast. Yet Grigori failed at it before ultimately giving up and just enjoyed skydiving for fun.
Peering down through his silver mask while falling through the sky, Vladimir easily spotted the Thoreau Resorts. He waited a couple of seconds before he activated his parachute. Then he used his full body force through the air to manoeuvre himself towards the direction of the resorts.
If he had practiced landing there once before, he would have had the estimation of the time it took to land on the resorts rooftop with precision. Using that knowledge he would have had made a much more smooth landing unlike he would now.
Once he touched down onto its vast stretching gravelly rooftop, his parachute nearly pulled him over the edge. He found himself teetering on the brink of a two hundred floor fall below.
During landings, it was always a difficult task to keep legs in a straightened posture. However, he found himself fortunate to have maintained his balance. He discarded his parachute to the side and surveyed his surroundings.
No one was on the roof except for him. He noticed a small helicopter landing space. There were several long steel barrels set here and there, large enough for anyone to conceal behind. He took a step forward, his black robes swishing in the wind.
At around this junction, he sensed another presence. There was besides him, someone else here on this roof. As an assassin he was trained in the art of detection.
He realized it was more than one other individual. He could hear their fixed breathing and their sly movements, something an untrained ear would be unable to pick up.
His eyes narrow as he recognizes that there were other assassins like him here. Hidden behind the objects cluttering the rooftop, and he sensed them leaping out. Before he knew it, he reached into his robes and whisked out razor sharp spikes. The two black robed figures immediately did backflips, managing to avoid the spikes that nearly split them.
"Jesus Christ!" Snaps one of the assassins and Vladimir recognizes Yigor's voice from under the dark mask. "Man, you tryna kill your own flesh'n'blood!"
Vladimir stares in surprise before his body relaxes and suddenly shifts into fury. "What the fuck are you doing here!?"
The two assassins saunter towards him and Serge speaks solemnly. "We couldn't abandon you."
"I didn't fucking address you." Vladimir glowers at him before turning to Yigor. "Uncle allowed this ?"
Yigor shook his head in decline. "Nah, Serge, Grigori and I defied uncle's orders.We're the only ones here, the rest of the cousins are pūssies."
Vladimir cracks a wry smile under his mask. "How did you know to find me here on the roof? Where the fuck is Grig?"
"Your man Huxley told us your shįtty ass plan!" Yigor snorts. "You ain't on a movie set, this shit is real..what the fuck kinda plan is this huh?"
"Grig's with Huxley right now." Serge answers before punching Yigor's arm. "And I'm sure Vladimir knows what he's doing."
"Did I not state as crystal fucking clear, that I'm not addressing your áss?" Vladimir threateningly growls at Serge. "Fuck off back to Aus, bitch."
"Woah ! woah !!" Yigor waves his hand between the two nervously. "Vladimir, chill the fuck out man..Serge ain't going nowhere..he's always been on your side through thick'n'thin..man you forget all of those times over one mistake ?"
Vladimir continues glowering towards his genetically unrelated cousin. "A mistake costing uncle many allies. A full out war might occur after this shit."
Serge lets out a defeated sigh, shoulder slumping. "Yes I'm aware of the consequences and will live with it for the rest of my life however short or long it is. But right now we have Sanam to rescue and honestly Vladimir, even if you hadn't come here..I would have. She doesn't deserve this shįt, she rescued both Arielle and Charlie back when you hated her. I don't know when you started seeing the good in her and I don't know how, but know this..I have always seen the good in her from the start. She's my friend, she's Katie's friend, Bevs friend and Rachael's. She meant more to us way before she did to you. So you can set aside your preaching coz she needs help now!"
Without sparing a second for Vladimir to respond, Serge treks off towards a metal door entrance and commences working on breaking in. Yigor shrugs nonchalantly and produces out a backpack from behind a barrel before joining Serge.
Vladimir decides to leave the arguing for another time as he went after them. Serge's words regarding his hate for her stung him inwardly.
Kashani, when was it that I started needing you like oxygen ?
Within five minutes, they have successfully dismantled the door. In lithe strides they descend downwards onto the top floor of the edifice. There were two hundred floors in the vast building, and by the blueprints, Vladimir knew the auditorium situated in the far left first floor of the edifice. The slaves for auction were being prepared on the fifth floor.
At the 150th floor, he made both of the assassins halt. Yigor's tone wary. "Man why we stopping?! Shit, we'll get discovered here!"
Vladimir ignores his cousins annoying voice while he slings off his own backpack and begins pulling out, state of the art explosive devices. "The security guard in the surveillance room will be knocked out by now, I had laced his drink earlier in the local coffee shop he attends each afternoon. Thoreau's greedy áss only hired one guard for the video surveillance room, don't ask me how I know..it's a long story of bribery."
"Vlad, what the fuck?! You were carrying these bombs when you jumped out of the plane?!" Serge's voice seeps out in shocked disbelief from under his mask. "You could have detonated into fucking pieces in the skies!
Vladimir grins under his mask as his blue eyes gleam wickedly. "It's slay time, boys."
Without giving them a second to argue, he slinks away and opens the emergency exit door. He enters into the empty 150th floor corridor of the resort, and plants a device next to a flower pot.
He knew the entire edifice was only partially filled with lofty criminals just like him, originating from mobs, crime families and mafias.
The resort was closed to the public for supposed renovation reasons. When in reality the owner Xavier Thoreau was making more wealth by utilizing it as a sex slave venue along with his business partner Omar El Fateen.
Vladimir firmly believed he would have had more fun bashing their bones into smithereens, but alas he could only make do with what he had now. Every 50th floor, he would plant an explosive device. They were all timer bombs, which set both Yigor and Serge on a nervous edge.
Deviant Fixation Page 52
