by Jagger Cole
The top and final drawer slides out. I growl when my eyes fall upon her tantalizing, lacy lingerie. She would drive me wild under any circumstances. But after ten years in the cold hell of the Siberian gulag, the sea of see-through panties, lace edges, delicate bras, and tiny little thongs has me snarling in lust.
My cock surges, thickening to steel in my jeans. I reach down to cup myself. I do a last sweep with the bug finder. But when it comes back clean, I turn it off and slip it back into my jacket.
My eyes sweep across her lingerie. I groan, consumed with lust for her. I push my hand into the drawer, running my fingers over the silk and lace and—
I freeze. My fingers run across a streak of something tacky and sticky, like it’s been dripped over the top of the open drawer of lingerie. I frown, pulling my hand away and bringing it to my nose. When I sniff, horror, disgust, and fury explode inside of me.
“Fuck!”
I roar and turn to bolt into the bathroom. I dry heave as I crank the sink water on hot and shove my hands under it. I pump soap all over my fingers and rub it vigorously before shoving them back under the water.
It’s cum. There’s fucking cum in her pantry drawer.
My disgust melts away under the hot water. Instead, it hardens into something dangerous, and furious.
Someone was here. A man was here. He was in her home, touching her intimates, and he fucking came on them. My mind whirls, and I start to page through the notes I have in my head on the people in her life.
She has no ex-boyfriends. There are a few men she knows peripherally who sniff around her too close for my liking. But I’ve followed all of them; none of them are capable of this level of depravity.
I snarl, gripping the edge of the bathroom sink and glaring at the water slowly steaming up the room. There’s only one explanation: he was here. The other wolf. The other apex predator prowling and hunting through this city.
I wanted to kill him before, for almost hurting her. Now, I want to do it slowly. I want to pull him apart piece by piece until he’s begging for mercy.
I yank my phone out and pull up the feed to the cameras. I’ve set up a few small ones—one across the street from the hospital, trained on her window. And two more hidden in her room. My pulse races, but when I open the live stream, I breathe.
She’s safe. A nurse is in the room with her, along with Fiona, Zoey, and… I frown when I lay eyes on the man. Nikolai, the man who killed Fyodor. I glare at him, and yet, the fury and hatred I once felt looking through the scope of a gun at him isn’t there anymore. Or at least, it’s diluted. It’s taking a second seat to making my angel is safe.
But she is. At least, for now, there in that hospital. But someone’s stepped into the sanctuary of her home. Someone aside from me, that is. Someone’s defiled her apartment. And that monster is still out there, hunting her.
Lusting after her.
The rage explodes in me, until I can’t stand it anymore. I crank the hot water off and turn to leave. But suddenly, I freeze. I slowly turn back, and my eyes land on the word written by a finger across her mirror. It wasn’t visible before. But with the hot water running, that mirror has fogged up, revealing the message.
“Soon.”
I whirl, I bolt like a demon from hell, right to her.
11
Nina
I frown down at the phone in my hand—my own phone, that is. But it’s just gone dead mid-conversation with Fiona. It’s still on, but the call went dead. I try her again before I realize my cell service is gone entirely.
I glance at my other phone...that other phone. But it’s the same with this one too; no service at all. My brow knits as I glance between them both. Hmm… weird.
It’s been almost a full day since my late-night phone call with Kostya. Mostly, I’ve been resting and catching up on sleep. I’ve tried to jump into work a couple of times. But whenever I’ve tried to dial into the office network, Deb has shut me out, telling me it’s Viktor’s orders.
“You need to rest,” he growled at me when I called him to complain.
“I’m fine. My head is fine. I’m bored out of my mind.”
“So watch a movie.”
I was actually just on the phone with Fiona to try and get her to convince Viktor I was fine to do some catching up on work emails. But then the service cut out.
The door to my room opens, and the new shift nurse steps in with a smile.
“How’re we feeling today, Ms. Komarov?”
In my old life, my last name was Turgenev. Losing Bogdan and Dima’s name was one of the best feelings I’ve ever felt. Maybe third only to the day Viktor knocked on our door, and the day Bogdan died.
“Good, I think I’m ready to be discharged.”
Marie, as her name tag says, grins. “Nice try. Shelly filled me in before she left for her shift.”
I groan. “Please? I can bribe you.”
She laughs. “How much we talking?”
“Let’s haggle.”
She chuckles. “Shelly said you were fun. Look, you’re just fine, Ms. Komarov—”
“Nina is fine.”
“Well, Nina, you’re fine. There’s no immediately obvious lasting injuries from your ordeal. But the doctors want to keep you one more night, just to make sure. Apparently, your brother’s insisted on it.”
I roll my eyes. “I’m fine.”
“Well, I know that. You know that. But doctors are doctors, honey.”
I sigh, and Maria smiles kindly at me.
“You’ve been through an ordeal, honey,” she says quietly. She shakes her head. “And I thought Chicago was getting safer these days. But there you go driving home from dinner and you manage to get caught in a gang crossfire!”
She frowns and starts checking the readouts on the machines next to my bed. I glance at both of my phones again and grumble when I see they’re both still out of service.
“Yours too, huh?”
I look up sharply. “Wait, is your service out?”
She nods. “Right before I walked in here. It could be some sort of hospital-wide interference though. They did this a year ago when the First Lady was getting blood drawn. Her Secret Service team turned off cell reception for the whole hospital while she was here.”
My brow wrinkles. “Seriously?”
“Yeah, security protocol I guess.” Maria goes back to checking my vitals. But I keep frowning as the wheels turn in my head.
“Well, is the First Lady here now?”
She laughs. “Nope. Who knows? They’re always messing with the infrastructure of this place. It could be anything.”
I nod, but I’m still puzzled. Maria finishes her notes and then turns to head to the door.
“I’ll see if I can get IT on the phone and see what’s up. I’ll let you know if I hear anything, okay?”
I smile. “Sure, thank you.”
When she leaves, I go back to staring at my two useless phones. It’s funny that I grew up with barely a working TV. Now my phone isn’t working for four whole minutes and my anxiety levels go through the roof.
I stare at my phone—my normal one, as opposed to the Kostya phone—and sigh. I feel bad for the line going dead mid-conversation with Fiona about our plans to meet up tomorrow. But then my gaze turns to the other phone—his phone. It lingers there, and my face burns.
I can’t believe I did that last night. I blush, simmering in the naughtiness of it. I can’t believe it, but it happened. I called him, I let his deep, growly voice do thing to me and make me squirm, and then we…
I chew on my lip. Phone sex? Did I seriously just have phone sex last night with him? I tingle everywhere and sink under the bedsheets. I pick up his phone and start to text a “hi” to him before I remember that the service is out. I also remember how lame it would be to send that, so I delete it quickly.
Something catches my eye outside. I glance up, seeing nothing in the setting evening light. But then, just as I start to turn away, I see it again. I freeze.
It’s a man. There’s a man outside my seventh story hospital room window. He’s in shadow, slipping down on some kind of a climbing rope. For a second, I think maybe he’s washing windows. But then I see the gun. My heart lurches. But just for a second, I pause, wondering if it’s Kostya.
My lips start to curl into a smile, when suddenly, the man swings closer to the glass, and the light. He looks right at me, and I pale.
Yeah, not Kostya.
But before I can scream or yell for help, he lowers the rest of the way, and his feet touch the window ledge. Instantly, he explodes in a ball of fire and shattering glass. Then, I very much do scream.
Alarms are ringing. I gasp as the sprinkler system kicks on in the room. My eyes swivel from the gaping black hole in the wall over to the door at the sound of men yelling outside. I hear Russian, which is comforting. But then suddenly I hear the rapid popping sound of machine gun fire.
I feel the panic rise, but I take a breath to squash it out. I glance around, gritting my teeth when I realize there’s not going to be a gun in reach. The shooting outside gets louder, and closer. I hear men yelling and the muffled explosions.
There are screams and glass shattering. And then suddenly, something slams into the door from the outside. I start to swing my legs out to get out of the damn bed, when suddenly the entire door explodes in. I scream and dive to the floor, hissing as the IV tower crashes over me.
Through the flaming wreckage of the door, three men come charging in with automatic rifles. One spots me on the floor next to the bed and grins as he raises his rifle. I scream, but suddenly all three of them twist and shudder before falling to the ground, dead.
There’s more shooting outside, but then suddenly, a huge shape looms through the fire and smoke in the door. The shape of a man is so huge, he stoops to duck under the door frame. And then suddenly, he’s standing right there, looking at me.
Kostya.
I’m speechless. I’m numb, and tingling, and choking actually on the smoke pouring into the room. The sprinkler system rains down on both of us as we just stare at each other for two full seconds. But then just as quickly, he strides towards me.
I gasp as he yanks me up and over his shoulder. On instinct, and maybe a little out of the fear and the adrenaline from the situation, I start to fight and thrash. I kick and hit. I scream at him to let me go. But his grip only tightens. His arm and shoulder flex like steel under my body.
Yet again, I’m not sure if this man is my fantasy or my nightmare. But either way, he’s got me now.
Another explosion rocks the building. Kostya whirls, and he roars as he fires on two men who rush into the room. He bolts for the door when they fall. But suddenly, another thunderous explosion booms—this one right next to us. And this time, it all goes black.
12
Kostya
Moscow, Ten Years Ago:
It’s all gone wrong. All of it: the entrance, the guard that wasn’t supposed to be at work today, the security gates that Fyodor paid a man on the inside to disable.
The alarms aren’t supposed to be going off. The blank money orders aren’t supposed to still be in the safe behind the gates. Dimitri isn’t supposed to be lying pale, wide-eyed, and motionless in a pool of his blood.
I look down at him, my pulse thudding like a drum in my ears. There are so many holes in his chest—so many big red spots on his grey jacket. For a second, it reminds me of the paper butterflies from earlier today—bright color against the drab of the apartment building.
I take his hand in mine, but I don’t have to try too hard to find a pulse. Dimitri is dead. The plan is fucked. It’s all gone wrong.
We’re in an alley three streets away from the post office. But the sounds of sirens wailing through the city, and the helicopter overhead tells me we’re already screwed. By now, the city is on lockdown. The net is slowly closing in, and it’s a matter of time before they find us here.
Someone is shaking me. I look up and see Fyodor looking grim and haggard.
“He’s dead, boy,” he grunts, nodding at Dimitri.
I turn back to take Dimitri’s hand. But Fyodor pulls me away again, he kneels in front of me, patting my cheek with his hand.
“I am sorry, my boy,” he says tersely. “I am so very sorry.”
“The guard…” I grit my teeth. “The gates…”
“We got fucked, Kostya,” Fyodor grunts. He glances behind him at the entrance to the alley when a siren wails close.
“We don’t have much time, my boy.” He pats my cheek again. “They will chase us and hunt us both if we run. And I…” his mouth thins. “I cannot go to prison, Kostya. I have enemies there who will cut my throat before my first night in.”
“We can run—”
“We won’t make it out of the city. Not now.” His face hardens as he looks at me. His mouth smiles a touch. “You have been like a son to me, Kostya. I know I was hard on you—you and Dimitri. But this is what I have been preparing you for. This moment, right now.”
I feel my heart clench. I nod. “I know that, Fyodor.”
“You’ve been such a good boy, Kostya. You’ve made me so proud. And now…” he frowns. “I need you to do this for me. For your family.”
I frown. “Do what?”
“If we both run, they will catch us, and we will both go to prison.” He clears his throat. “But if they have only one runner…”
I freeze. “You…you want me to run.”
“I want them to catch you, Kostya,” he says quietly.
“And go to prison.”
He nods. “Da, my boy. My son. I need you to do this, because this is what family does. Think of the life I have given you—the food in your belly, the roof over your head. The opportunities and skills I have given you.”
I’m cold. “You want me to go to prison?”
“Do this for me, Kostya. Do this for your father, yes?”
I swallow. “How long…”
“I don’t know. For this?” He shrug. “No time. No time at all. Especially if you turn yourself in. You keep me out of it and tell them Dimitri was the only other one, and they will clap themselves on the back.”
“Da, but how long will I—”
“I don’t know, Kostya,” he snaps. Sirens wail closer in the distance. “But I need you to do this. For me. For your family, Kostya.”
He’s right. This is what family does. My mind starts to forget about the beatings, and the abuse. The hurled insults and the demands. He’s right, after all. He gave me a second shot at life. He gave me food and shelter, and the skills to forge a path in this world.
“Da,” I choke. “Da, Fyodor. Okay.”
I smile and I go to hug him. But Fyodor quickly stands.
“Good, yes, good, Kostya. Now, run!”
I nod. “Will there be a service?”
Fyodor is glances back at me. “Huh?”
“A service. For Dimitri.”
He frowns. “For… ah, yes!” He beams. “Of course! Of course! Da, of course there will be. A big service. A beautiful one.” He frowns. “Now go, Kostya. Go!”
He shoves me out of the alley. And I just start running. At first, I have no idea where I’m going. I can’t think straight. But then all of a sudden, I have clarity. In a moment, I know exactly what I’m doing.
I’m not stupid. Fyodor said no time at all, but I know it will be much longer than that. I know when they catch me, I’m going away for a very, very long time—to a place that will be cold, and without beauty or kindness.
But I had my second shot at life. It wasn’t much better than my first, but at least I can do this one thing.
The sirens are closing in on me. The police helicopter swoops past me above. But when it comes back for a second pass, I know I’ve been spotted. But no matter. My apartment block is up ahead, and my mind is made up.
I run through the courtyard between the buildings. I don’t enter mine, though. I enter the one across from it. I don’t know the
actual number, but I can guess the floor, and what side of the building it’s on. I knock on three wrong doors before finally, the right one opens.
The man reeks of cheap vodka and stale beer. He’s bleary-eyed and scowling when he yanks the door open. He also has a construction paper butterfly stuck to his shoe.
“Chto ty khocheshi’?” He slurs. What do you want?
My only answer is my fist, pounding into his mouth as hard as I can hit. I feel his teeth shatter and his jaw break. He goes stumbling back, and I follow. A haggard, pale looking woman comes rushing out of the kitchen. But when she sees what’s happening, she slinks right back.
The man is sobbing on the floor, gurgling something up at me through his shattering jaw. I grab him by the throat and slam him into the wall. I hit him in the ribs, then the other side, then back, then back again. I make sure I’m pulverizing every single one, making him hurt.
Like he’s hurt her.
I hear the floor creek behind me and I pause. I glance over my shoulder and see her standing wide-eyed in the doorway to her room.
“Otvernut’sya, angel,” I growl. Look away.
She nods, darting back into her room. I turn back to the man weeping under my grip. I can hear sirens outside. I can hear the chopper circling the building. I don’t have much time, but this won’t take long at all.
My hand tightens on his throat. I slam him back against the wall—again, and again, and again, until his eyes roll back. I squeeze as hard as I can, snarling into his face as I feel his throat crush beneath my grip. His body goes limp, and I drop it like sack of manure he was to the floor.
The apartment is silent. The woman is nowhere to be seen. But when I turn around, I see the girl peering with one eye from behind her doorway.
