Chapter Nineteen
Rhys
I am on the edge of my fucking seat, my throne actually, sitting next to the most beautifully fucked up woman I have ever known as we watch the most exciting bloodbath that’s happened in the cage fights for a while.
Before now, I understood what she was doing on a diabolical level, on the fact that it works to keep everyone honest, but the entertainment value was slightly lost on me for the most part. Unpredictable maybe, but other than that, it was a couple of assholes trying to rip each other a new one. Other than lack of rules, it’s not much different from boxing.
But what I am watching now is something altogether different.
Two of Glib's people are in the ring; one is a woman and another a very high-ranking man. One close enough to Glib that it’ll scare the shit out of him that we got a hold of him. And these two are giving fighting to the death a whole new meaning. Whoever comes out will never forget their victory because the scars will be visible on their body always, and that’s if we decide to let the winner live.
I glance over at my wife and see how excited she is by this too, her nails digging into the seat with anticipation. I am damn sure she will let the person live after the show they are putting on. Blood everywhere, gore, no body part or move seems to be off limits.
The most obvious winner is the man; he is not tall, but he is bulky. But she is quick and scheming like a fox and altogether ruthless. I watch as she ducks a blow to her head and hooks her finger into his eye socket, popping his eyeball out as if it means nothing. This is so fucking sick it’s the best shit I have ever seen. I'll never be content at the movies again, that’s for damn sure.
I watch as the woman becomes desperate, and in a final move, leaps onto the man's back like some kind of wild animal. The whole crowd is in an uproar, and I am afraid I might go particularly deaf at the wall of sound surrounding me.
He is trying to bat her off, throw her off, but she hangs on, ripping at his ears, his remaining eye, his nose, and trying to snap his neck.
She must hit a pressure point because he goes down, and she swings around to have a knee against his throat. He can’t breathe, and he flails until he moves no more.
There is no announcing the winner as everyone is much too loud, and I can feel the adrenaline dripping off this woman as she takes her victory lap, her eyes large with fear and confusion. She still hasn’t processed she just killed a man.
I look over to Vera again and give her a knowing look. She points to another exit, the one where the fighters are generally brought in through, and we slip out way out unnoticed, my body unsure if I can wait for this til we get home. I want to devour her so badly my body is shivering.
I have her clothes off in the car before we can even get the privacy screen up, and I know that the driver likely got an eyeful.
I don’t give a fuck, even as we park and we are left in here to fend for ourselves, fogging up these damn windows. The taste of her is on my tongue as I come up for a kiss before I allow myself the satisfaction of being inside her, the warmth and the tightness almost too much to handle.
And then she nibbles at my ear, breathing into it, "I love you, you damn hot Romanian."
I slam into her in answer, knowing she already knows how I feel., I can’t believe she finally said it, and I am not going to ruin it by calling her out on the moment or the way she said it, I wouldn’t have it any other way.
Eventually, we giggle and stumble inside like a couple of giddy teenagers until her phone rings, and I have never seen her flip so fast, and that is saying something considering the way she can have mood swings.
"Woah, Fredrig, slow down," I hear her say before a string of curses and whispers in Ukrainian block me out of the conversation. When she hangs up, she looks like she has seen a ghost.
"Get in the car," she tells me. "We need to take care of some things," she tells me, completely deadpan, looking like the devil is possessing her.
"Wait a sec," I say as she walks back to the car. "What the hell was the call about? What’s going on? We can’t just run off and do something without a team."
"I said get the fuck in the car!" she roars at me, only pausing for a moment before taking off at top speed, forcing me to run after. "Get in, or I swear, I will leave you behind, Romanian!" she snaps.
I have no choice as I leap in the back just as she begins to peel out of the driveway, and I am in a panic, trying to think of what the fuck suicide mission we are now on. Sure, we have a couple of glocks and a couple of needles with some knock out juice back here, but I doubt that phone call is leading to something so simple.
"Could you please fill me in on what the fuck is going on, Vera, and slow down so we can get at least some kind of a plan. I am going in blind here."
She slows about five miles an hour and tells me through gritted teeth, probably the best I’m a going to get from her right now. "Our whole fucking tam is dead, Rhys," she tells me. "Fucking Glib is to blame. I am not waiting anymore, and you can’t stop me. He dies tonight, and his gang either submits or dies with him. And then so does the man who killed my Lana."
"Wait, what the hell? How did this happen? And what man?"
"Valentin Volkolv."
As soon as she says his name, my blood runs cold. "There is no way in hell we can go over Valentin Volkolv. Even Ion is scared of the man. Getting us on his radar means the worst death possible for everyone, the entire mafia will be fucked. You can’t do this. We already are on the edge with him. We need to think about this logically. I know you must be devastated. I can’t even imagine. But please, don’t commit suicide for all of us," I beg her, but I can tell by the look she gives me in the rearview mirror she is not going to cooperate.
I have no choice in what I am about to do, and she is going to hate me for it.
I continue talking as my hand grips around one of the needles we keep for if we run into one of Glib’s men on the streets. It will knock someone out for quite a bit. long enough for me to get her to safety...all of us to safety. And then I can reassess. "We'll get Glib but leave it there until we know more."
As I say the last word, I leap into the passenger seat and grab the wheel with on hand as I lunge the needles deep into her neck, her body falling limp against me as I try to control this thing.
As soon as I can, I pull us over and get the burner phone out, calling Ion’s emergency number. “Ion, we’ll talk when I get there, but we need a jet and fast. Some things have happened.”
Chapter Twenty
Vera
I wake up in a bed that is not mine, and I am alone. I don’t know whether I am better off that way or not. Rhys probably knows that I want to kill him, and I wouldn’t want him with me right now, but there is another part of me that doesn’t feel like me at all. And that part of me has shattered.
I thought if the way I felt when my father threw me on the streets. I was a hurt and scared little girl, but one night on the streets and I knew I needed to buck the fuck up and grow a pair to make it out in that cold world. So, I did. I had no love or care for the man that dropped me like a hot potato and didn’t really even think about anyone else I left behind in that old life. I hardly grieved for the old me either. I just conquered and became what I am now.
So, I don’t know what broken feels like, I only think that's what I am now.
My only true family in this world is gone., The drugs that I let sit too damn long finally took her life, and Glib is to blame too. Which makes me to blame in a roundabout way. And now Lana, the person I had hoped would fill my heart with another friend, someone who I could have take on my legacy when I was too old or too busy to, she is gone too. And so young. I have no one.
Yes, I mean, I know there is Rhys, but I still feel like there are parts of me he doesn’t know. Like he can’t reach into my soul and feels its curves, its black spots, its holes...
So, I feel alone.
I pull my knees up to my chest and just try to breath, but for some damn reas
on it is so hard. I don’t think it’s ever been hard to just fucking breath and live and exist like it is right now. I have heard of people feeling this way; grief, depression, anger, whatever the fuck this is, and it pisses me off that it has struck me, the invincible Ukrainian bitch.
I could ask what I did to deserve this, but I am as far from a saint as you can get. I fuck up on a daily basis, and it’s on purpose. I have killed. I have watched people die. And I have often enjoyed it.
So, I should have known this was coming one day, some kind of grand punishment, but why did it have it involve killing off other people? This world doesn’t make any fucking sense.
I sit here, for I don’t know how long, and I wait for the tears to come.
They don’t.
I don’t know what the hell is wrong with me. It’s like I am a machine and not a human, but I can’t cry. I can’t fucking cry over the loss of two people.
Annoyed with this turn of events, I instead turn to anger, something I am more familiar with. I get up and head to the door. I want to know where the hell I am.
I jiggle the handle, wondering if it’s locked. I mean, I remember I was drugged before I got here. I am not exactly going to be free, but how caged am I?
The handle turns with no issue, so I guess there’s that. I tiptoe around in what I can now see is a very large hotel room...no wait. It is multiple hotel rooms that open into one another.
I peek back into my room to see I didn’t notice before it was a small hotel room itself, the tiniest kind, more like a master bedroom, but out here there are two living areas that interconnect and a large curtain that is open between the two.
There are men littered on the other side, in the other room. They are eating and I think watching a sports game, but I am not dumb enough to think that they wouldn’t notice if I tried to leave. And I am sure they all have plenty of ways on them to subdue me if I try.
In my room, I see one man in the corner, minding his own business, but as I go closer to the door and approach a desk I couldn’t see before, Fredrig sits there, blocking my path out. I instinctively know this is a strategic placement. I wouldn’t want to hurt him necessarily in an attempt to escape, and I am sure Rhys thinks with Fredrig I would listen to reason. But there is no reason in any of this.
"Where is Rhys?" I growl. And suddenly the men across the way go silent, listening in to our conversation. "Where are we?"
"Safe," he answers vaguely, and I get in his face, anger pouring off of me. I go for him, searching for any weapon on him I can threaten him with. Rhys was smart; there is only a small knife, nothing more.
"Tell me what’s going on."
"Vera, you are not thinking clearly right now, and there was no choice. You and Rhys...all of us could be in danger because of Valentin. We are in New York. And we all have strict orders to keep you inside. I am sorry, but no phone calls, no walks outside, though you're welcome to open the window and survey the view. Just, settle in and grieve. I am sure Rhys will have this figured out in no time so you can go home."
I scoff at the word home. What do I have to go home to? Yes, Ukraine is my home. I would feel out of place somewhere else, a feeling I already have as I approach the large window to the side of the room.
But I have no family left there. There is not much of a home left. And I don’t even get to defend my home or people from Glib now.
I look out over the bustling city and see that it's midday, and I just feel so damn empty.
I roll the knife into my shirt, clearly it’s either forgotten that I have to or he feels I won’t do much damage with it, and I retire to my room again, not having a will to do anything else. Not even ask for food.
As I play over and over in my mind the events of the last few months, a numbness comes over me that I can’t shake. It is like the sorrow is so heavy I can’t feel it anymore.
So, I pull out the knife, and I pull up my pant leg, staring at my bare thigh for just a moment before I dig into the skin and watch the blood run red.
Somehow, I am the one left standing even though I don’t deserve it.
***
I look in the mirror, and the first thing I notice is I have circles under my eyes. Have I been sleeping much? I don’t know. I am not exactly on a schedule anymore. I have been here for I think a little more than a week now, and I can hear Rhys through the door, asking about me.
Yeah, he has to ask other people how his wife is doing. We aren’t exactly talking right now. I am sure the blame is on both of us, but I feel betrayed. I am under lock and key in a New York hotel room while he gets to leave and deal with Clan business.
I am kept in the dark. I have no information, no freedom, and no purpose. And I hate everyone here. Everyone has wronged me. They can’t cage a wild animal like me. I will die.
I feel dead.
I pull out my trusty knife and lift a tuft of hair, turning to the side so I can see the back of my neck in the mirror. I reach back and make a clean slice, joining a few others there. It has become a daily ritual, the only thing I still feel and the scars that define me inside are now on the outside. I don’t know what Rhys will say if he ever sees them, but then again, why should I care?
Chapter Twenty-One
Rhys
"I have some news on Valentin you might like to know," Ion says, and I am all fucking ears. This has been the hardest few weeks of my life, knowing that my wife is miserable and that I helped cause that pain by taking her away from her home. But I had to do it. She would have gotten us all killed. And she won’t even let me touch her or talk to her, I have tried. But I am hoping this is the day we get our next assignment and some kind of permanency. Either we find out we can’t go back home and we have to relocate, or Valentin never knew it was us who sent Lana and the others, and we are free to go back.
Maybe then she can start to heal.
"Yes?" I ask casually as I sit across from him in his office. I have never had so many one on one dealings with the king before nor do I wish to again because it has meant I am in deep shit. He had agreed to keep this all from Mariana, telling her vaguely that there is a threat and leaving it at that until he had more information. It means a lot considering how much I have done to try and earn her respect back. This fuck up could lose me that at the drop of a hat. I am lucky Ion and I are on speaking terms because he’s the one that told me not to earn us any more enemies. Not like any of us could have seen this coming. How Glib grew the balls it get Valentin Volkolv involved, I have no idea.
"It turns out he is busy with his new wife."
"New wife?" What happened to the old one?”
"Rumor has it he has killed her. That has not been confirmed, but she has gone missing. He is also gunning for an MC and some member of it he has a vendetta with, I guess. He is making no move against you or any of us yet, though we are watching the situation with the MC as we have already been warned about this becoming an issue. But it has nothing to do with your operation in the Czech Republic. This Glib did not tell him who was in his territory getting women just that someone was. So, unless any of your men or Vera's talked, then I think you are safe to return home. But Rhys, don’t fuck this up. Lay low until this other gang is eradicated."
I nod, an excitement building. I can’t wait to tell Vera we can go back to the mansion. If anything will make her feel better, it’s that, and we can start doing what we do best again. And we will kill Glib. That, I know for sure.
"Mulțumesc," I thank him. "It will be handled right. Thank you for helping us with this."
Ion nods, his mind likely already ion the next order of business, as is mine.
I walk out of there with a new swagger to my step when my phone rings. It’s Fredrig, and that can't mean anything good. He is only to call me if he can’t handle Vera. "What is it?" I ask, climbing into my car.
"It's Vera. I don’t know what to make of it, but she has been locked in the bathroom for over an hour now. I have heard nothing from her, and she does not answer the door.
What would you like me to do?"
My heart is beating out of my chest. I have never had such a gut feeling that came with so much foreboding before. I know something is wrong with my wife. "I am coming." That’s all I say before I hang up, revving the engine and peeling out much faster than is safe. I don’t care for my own safety right now, only that I make it home. I need to get to Vera, and I just feel like I have to be the one to bust down that door.
I don’t know how many laws I break on the way or how many stares I get as I run through the lobby and into an elevator the last minute headed up toward our floor. I don’t know what I will find, but I feel sick, acid rising up in my throat as I put the key in the door to our room. I don’t greet anyone, I don’t even wait for the door to shut completely. My foot is busting through the hinges on that damn bathroom door in seconds, and all I see is my Vera laying in a pile of blood.
"Net!" I cry, lifting her up into my arms. I can instantly see the blood has come from her wrists. "We take the freight elevator. Get us to the hospital now!" I scream, running with her, the men behind me. I don’t bother checking for a pulse or for breathing because I don’t want to know. I want to assume the best, that she can still be saved, because I can’t handle anything else after all we have been through together.
I worry over her, pleading with her in every language I know in the backseat, over and over for her to get the fuck through this, to wake up. I don’t understand what would bring the strongest person in the world to do this.
I knew she wasn’t happy here. I knew she was mad at me. And I knew she was sad about Lana. But I never for once thought it would come to this; her trying to self-destruct. I didn’t even know she had it in her.
When we get to the hospital, I instruct my men to drive around back where the ambulances park, and we hand every staff member we meet a wad of cash for privacy and silence.
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