by K. Webster
“We’ll see you tomorrow. The doctor said she could come home in a few days. I’ll make sure everything is ready,” Vika tells me.
I give them both a nod, and they leave.
My heart aches, but I finally manage to drag my head to her.
“Moya roza,” I mutter as I approach her.
She is no longer the vibrant blooming flower of a woman. No, she is broken. So fucking broken. Her brown hair is tangled and matted with blood. Skin that normally blushes with color is pallid. Sickly. White. Lips that usually pout out, colored a bright crimson, are cracked and missing their color. She has an IV pumping fluids into her. From what I later learned via a text from Vas while I waited to fly back was that she not only lost our baby, but she started hemorrhaging. They had to give my sweet Diana a blood transfusion. Her life hung in the delicate balance.
But she survived.
Diana has always been a fierce survivor.
I walk over to her still, sleeping frame, and clutch onto her cold hand. She seems so frail.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper.
Her body flinches slightly in her sleep, and her dark brows furl together. A small whimper whines from her chest. Seeing her like this is breaking me too. I can’t take it. Sitting on the edge of the bed, I pull her hand up and kiss her knuckles.
“I love you,” I admit to her. “I always have.”
Her features relax. This will be tough for her. Losing something we created and already loved is hard on me, so I can’t even begin to imagine the pain she’s feeling.
I close my eyes as exhaustion takes over. I want to crawl into this bed with her and sleep for a goddamn week. Instead, I remain stiff like a statue. She needs me hard for her. I will be her rock as she suffers through the anguish that will no doubt try to steal her from me.
I’ll be damned if I let it.
We’re a team, she and I.
I will put more babies inside her. We’re young. We still have time.
“Veniamin.”
The soft, whispered croak has me jerking my eyes back open. Diana’s normally big blue eyes are dulled. Empty. She blinks at me, her face emotionless.
“I’m so sorry, moya roza,” I mutter, my chest aching.
She winces and looks away from me, stealing my soul right along with her action. Diana doesn’t deal with grief well. And just like I did when she mourned over Anton, I will help her through this. I will bring her back to me.
“We’re going to get through this,” I assure her, my voice soft. “I’ll never leave your side again. I’m going to take you away as soon as you’re well. We’ll get married and pregnant again. Then we can—”
“Stop,” she interrupts, turning her scathing glare my way. Fat tears well in her blue eyes, making them look like blue lakes. Her nostrils flare, and the tip of her nose turns pink. She swallows, and her throat bobs. “I…” Her bottom lip wobbles wildly, and she bites it. A tear leaks down her cheek. Before I can wipe it away, she jerks her hand from my grip and hastily wipes it with the heel of her palm. “We’re n-not doing any of that,” she says as she sniffles, her stare almost accusing as she pins me to the spot with her vivid blue eyes.
“Diana?”
“No,” she croaks harshly. “I said stop!” Her eyes dart back and forth, manic. The heartrate monitor speeds to life, indicating her sudden bout of emotion.
“Calm down,” I urge. When I reach for her hand, she swats it away.
“Leave, Ven. Please just leave me.”
My brows crash together in confusion. “You’re not feeling well. You don’t mean that.”
A loud, harsh, evil sounding laugh resounds from her. Something that sounds like it came straight from the depths of hell. “I will never become a Vetrov. I’d rather die. You can all go to hell,” she seethes.
“You’re talking fucking crazy,” I growl. “I’ll get a nurse in here to give you someth—”
“The baby was Anton’s,” she calls out as I attempt to leave to get help.
Time stills for a moment while I try to process her words.
“The baby was Anton’s,” she repeats, her cold eyes narrowing. “Not yours. I would never carry a Vetrov baby.” The venom from her hits my system quicker than a shot of heroin. Except, instead of feeling high, I feel it go straight to my heart.
Cold.
Deadly.
An end to something.
I glower at her. “You’re talking some bullshit, Diana. I’ll get a nurse to calm your ass down. We’ll talk about this tomorrow when you’re feeling better.”
She must have hit her fucking head. They need to do a brain scan and fix my girl.
“No!” she screams at me, her tears a steady stream down her cheeks. “You’re just not hearing me. I don’t want you here. I fucking hate you and every single person in your family. I hate every goddamn Vetrov! Scum! Just like my father always said!” She’s almost hysterical. Her pupils are dilated and the skin on her face becomes blotchy with the rage taking over. “I used you,” she snipes resentfully. “I loved that baby, but it wasn’t yours.” The tears stop, and she stares at me, no emotion left inside her. “I just needed to borrow time.”
My heart, which only ever belonged to her, is torn straight from my chest. I hear the truth behind her words. Behind the hate. And I feel every single one of them like a stab to the gut. She conned me.
It was all a fucking act.
A trick.
She used me to keep that sick pedophile’s baby safe. She burrowed inside me and played on the feelings I always harbored for her, wrapping her vines around my fucking heart and bleeding me dry. How could I be so weak? So fucking foolish?
My jaw clenches, and my heart hardens. “Oh, you played the game well, Diana,” I whisper through gritted teeth, my voice icy and cruel. I want to spit blood at her feet to show her the damage she’s doing to my insides. And despite my aching despair, I clutch onto the idea that this is all a sick joke—a nightmare I’m going to wake up from still on the plane.
Her smile isn’t one of the beautiful ones she’s flashed my way hundreds of times. This one is sinister and evil. As though the devil has slid through her veins and possessed the woman I wanted to share the rest of my life with. “This is how it always was, Vetrov. We were doomed from the start. Now leave me the hell alone.”
I stare at her for a long moment, wanting to commit this version of her to my memory so I’m never fooled by the allure of a beautiful rose again, before turning my back on the woman I loved. “Everything between us…” I whisper almost to myself, but she answers me anyway.
“Was a lie,” she finishes coldly. “We were nothing. I don’t love you! I can’t love you. You’re a Vetrov, and Vetrovs don’t deserve love.”
Three days later…
Kira Baskin.
Target located.
My chest feels hollow. The dead heart inside me has my brain curious. It wants to remember. It wants to know. But it can never fucking know. I’ll not allow that pain to cut at me any longer. I certainly won’t allow my mind to ponder the whys.
The whys of how a woman who I was so fucking convinced loved me but was ultimately playing me for a damn fool.
She’s a black void to me.
A burn in my memory.
A fucking stamp on my soul.
Something happened, but I refuse to look back and think about it any longer.
I’m Veniamin Vetrov.
First winner of warriors in The V Games.
I’m cunning and ruthless and fucking scary.
I need to remember that.
Kira will soon learn that too.
I lost myself the past few days, but I’ve finally sobered up. No more fucking love-drunk bullshit.
“We were nothing. I don’t love you! I can’t love you. You’re a Vetrov…”
I’ve become numb. She wanted to paint me as an undeserving prick, lump me in with a man like my father. It only proves she never really knew me. He’s a mean old bastard for the sake of
it.
My rage is more purposeful.
Useful.
Controlled and calculated.
Kira slips out of her apartment building with her head bowed. The giant parka she wears covers most of her face, but for three days since I left the hospital, I’ve staked out her location. I’ve watched her come and go. This is her.
She walks swiftly down the snow-covered sidewalks where she has a car parked three blocks over. As if she’s fooling anyone. I stay back behind her, but stalk after her. Tonight, she says goodbye to her cushy life. Her father Alfred is a cunt who sold out the First Families. And maybe I wasn’t a fan of killing Kira when she was just a child, but she’s all woman now and can be leverage to bring her bastard father out of his hiding place. The Vasilievs will be furious that we’re seeking the vengeance they want. It’s a shame they’ve failed to get it all these years, but the Vetrovs won’t fail. We will not only have vengeance, but we will make the Vasilievs pay to be involved in it.
I’m thirsty for blood. For retribution. For any feeling that isn’t numbness. Anything that isn’t the ice-cold pit ever-present in my fucking gut.
My soul roars within me, eager to direct my rage and hate elsewhere. I crave to consume and destroy. To feed the beast within who was nearly slaughtered by a motherfucking rose.
Diana…fuck, she was like the rarest rose. So alluring, I couldn’t help but pluck it for my own pleasure. All the while, forgetting when you dare to grasp the rose, you must be prepared to bleed for the thorns. And bleed I did. I’ve only got myself to blame. I should have known better.
Time to replenish my darkness and let loose the hate that now festers deep within me.
Kira must pick up on my radiating fury. She looks over her shoulder, but doesn’t see me. However, her pace picks up.
The storm is coming, sweetheart.
You can run, but you can’t hide.
Despite not seeing anything, she can sense the monster in her shadow. A monster who will capture her. A monster who will seek vengeance on her.
I crack my neck and pick up my pace. Soon, she will turn the corner and dive inside her vehicle. She sees this as an end in sight. Too bad she’ll never make it.
The crunch of the icy, hardened snow under my boots and my heavy breathing won’t be heard by her as cars zip by on the snowy street. I pass by a bar where loud music pours from. She bumps into a man, and he offers an animated apology, but she’s not interested and keeps going.
When she turns around once more, and our eyes lock, realization washes over her.
I’m coming for you.
She takes off running, slipping this way and that, and I speed after her, my feet more sure beneath me. Her fancy boots betray her in this moment—when her life depends on it. Mine aid me in my effort to obtain the woman. She rounds the edge of the building, going much too quickly. Her feet slip, and she goes down, her head bouncing against a bench.
I slow my steps as I approach. Crimson stains the white snow around her head. Her blonde hair blows in the wind, covering her face from me. I kneel and brush my fingers across her skin, pushing the hair from her face.
“Look at you, rabbit. Running from the mountain lion.” I grin at her. “But you’re caught now.”
Her dark brown, almost black eyes, blink at me as she attempts to clear her daze. I pull a soaked cloth from my pocket and hold it to her nose.
“Sleep, little one.”
Her eyes flutter closed. As soon as the chloroform does its magic, I scoop her into my arms. I bypass her car and head straight for my rental SUV I parked in front of hers. It takes some managing with her in my arms, but I get her into the back. Where I’m going isn’t far away, so I won’t need to bind her.
Yet.
I abandon her limp form and close the hatch. Then, I hop into the SUV and drive through the streets to my location. Klub Chernyy. Rodion and Zahkar. My cousins will aid me in my endeavors. Father wants me to keep Kira safe until The V Games. I’ll keep her as he has instructed.
But safe?
No one is ever safe around me again. Diana made me weak, and no one will ever see that side of me again.
I navigate the snowy streets with ease. This neighborhood is one I’m familiar with. As soon as the club comes into view, I drive past it and turn down a side street. I can’t exactly carry an unconscious woman through the club, so I head to the back of the building.
When I pull up to one of the garage bays, a dark figure stalks over to my window. As soon as one of Rodion and Zahkar’s men recognizes me, he gives me a nod, then mashes a code into a panel. The garage door lifts, and I wait patiently. From the back, Kira whines. She’s coming to.
I drive through the open door into a garage. My cousins’ sports cars line the area, but there is an open spot they leave for visitors. I pull into the spot and shut off the vehicle. When I climb out, the man has made his way over to me.
“I need Rodion and Zahkar. Now,” I bark out as I lift the back hatch of the SUV.
He radios someone. When he sees my prize, he lets out a dark chuckle. “This way, sir.”
Kira is waking up, but she’s still dazed. I easily lift her slight body into my arms and carry her through the cold garage into the building. I can hear the music playing from the club. The man doesn’t take me there, though. He takes me past their MMA training facility to some rooms they use for their fighters. To keep them focused, the fighters live like prisoners. Locked in a small room with only a bed and a small bathroom. They are brought their meals and only leave when it’s time for training.
It’ll be the same for little Kira Baskin.
I take her into the smallest room and toss her onto the bed. When she blinks through her haze and recognizes me, she gapes in horror.
“Veniamin?” she rasps out.
I glower at just another betraying woman in a long list of bitches who have affected me in some way. This woman and her family have done their part to try to ruin us.
But now we’re going to ruin her.
“You’ll be staying here for a while,” I tell her, my voice emotionless.
“N-No,” she stammers out, tenderly touching the gash on the back of her head. “I need to leave.”
She’s so tiny and weak. I could crush her in my fist. Once a friend, the girl before me is nothing but a foe. It will be my honor to fucking break her.
“Take off your clothes,” I bark.
“You don’t have to do this,” she whispers. “You know me, Veniamin. We go way back. Please. Please don’t rape me.”
At this, I laugh as I rub at my beard. “Rape you? Since when do I have to rape women?”
She sniffles and lifts her chin. “I don’t want to have sex with you, so it will be rape.”
“What makes you think I want to rape you?” I sneer.
She sniffles. “Thank you.” She bats her lashes. Fucking bitch is trying to play me. Bat those lashes, shed some tears.
“Clearly you’ve mistaken me for some hero,” I hiss as I grab a handful of her parka and yank her up. “I’m nobody’s fucking hero.”
She screams and claws at me, but I easily tear away her coat. Her black dress goes next. The panties she wears are plain, and the bra, even more plain. For such a nice body, Kira hides as much as she can. She always had a sassy mouth when she was young, but dressed like a fucking schoolboy.
We continue our war as I rip her bra and panties from her body. The moment she’s naked and vulnerable, I release her. Sobbing, she scurries away on the bed to the corner and rocks, her accusing stare on me.
“I’m nobody’s fucking hero,” I growl in reminder.
As she cries, I step into the hallway. Both my cousins are sauntering my way looking high as shit. Rodion isn’t wearing a shirt, and Zahkar has lipstick smeared on his collar. I’ve interrupted something. This is more important.
“Ahhh, dear cousin. To what do we owe this surprise visit?” Rodion asks, his grin turning up wickedly. Zahkar narrows his eyes at me, always the quie
ter of the two.
“I need to make a video,” I tell them. “Of Kira Baskin.”
Zahkar’s brows furl while Rodion’s eyes widen. “Little Kira? Blondie Kira? The same Kira who used to show off to us by sneaking cigarettes from her father when she was a kid?”
“You know what Alfred did,” I snap, my fury igniting in the pit of my belly. I don’t like them questioning me.
Zahkar’s glare becomes stormy. Rodion’s lips press into a firm line. Neither is pleased, but they can get the hell over it. They’re family, and Alfred’s betrayal would have impacted their lives too had we not put a stop to it.
“What kind of video?” Zahkar asks, his jaw clenching. “You know torture is more Rus’s thing. We can’t make her marry him—that ship sailed.” He smirks as though the dig at my brother actually affects me.
“If I wanted to torture her with pain, I’d do it myself.” I pin them both with hard stares. “I want her pliable. I want her desperate. I want her so needy for pleasure and nothing else. Give her the bare minimum, but make her crave to be touched. Starve her of release, starve her of warmth, until she’s so desperate for it, she’ll beg for it from anyone who offers her a crumb.”
Rodion laughs like a madman. “You want us to pet the little kitten and make her purr?”
“I want you to drug the traitor, tease her, and then I’ll make a video of the broken, begging whore. Alfred will come out of hiding, and we’ll end that motherfucker like my father wants. Are we clear, cousin?” I ask Rodion.
“You got me hard at needy for pleasure,” he replies, pushing past me, already hungry for a taste of Kira. Kira was a good girl growing up. Aside from stealing cigarettes, she was always her daddy’s little angel. He thought he hid her away well, but her mother missed her family, and Kira isn’t the type you can keep in a cage. She’s like a curious kitten, desperate to get out in the world. Her father may have told her to stay inside and avoid people, but she needs people.
“Rodion!” she cries out upon seeing him. “Help me!”
I follow him into her cell, Zahkar on my heels. Anger ripples from him, but he doesn’t dare argue with my wishes. When she sees me again, she flinches.
