Page 21

21

VADIM

NIGHT

Dr. Chen's silver Lexus approaches through the grainy drone feed on my tablet. The rain patters against the warehouse roof where I've positioned my best marksmen. Three to my left, four to my right, all with clear sightlines to the meeting point.

"Vadim Petrovich, in position," Yegor's voice crackles through my earpiece.

"Acknowledged," I zoom out from the camera views as Dr. Chen's car rolls to a stop and she steps out.

Lacey did a flawless job on the makeup. The painted bruises and cuts really do make it look like Dr. Chen fought her way out after completing her grim task.

The car stops exactly where instructed. Through the drone feed, I watch Dr. Chen step out, her movements appropriately shaky and terrified.

That part's not fakable.

The drone operator adjusts the angle, giving me a wider view of the docks. Empty shipping containers create a maze of steel corridors, perfect for an ambush.

My jaw clenches as I remember calling Olga, and the way she laughed when she heard me.

"Now you understand, bastard," she had said. "Now you know how it feels to have something precious taken from you."

I force myself back to the present moment and the drone feed showing Dr. Chen's trembling figure. The rain intensifies, obscuring the drone feed for a moment.

A few minutes later, a black Lincoln Town Car glides into view, its headlights cutting through the mist.

"Eyes on," I murmur into my comm.

Through my rifle scope, I watch Olga emerge first, her silver-streaked hair unmistakable even in this light. A teenage girl follows. Three men in dark suits flank them, hands hovering near concealed weapons.

Even from this distance, I can see Dr. Chen body language shift as she recognizes her daughter.

" Gotovi ?" Ready?

My men respond with clicks through their comms

"Execute," I order, centering my crosshairs on the guard nearest to Olga.

I squeeze the trigger. The first guard's head snaps back in a spray of red. Before his body hits the ground, my men open fire. The second guard reaches for his weapon but falls with a shot through the throat.

The third barely manages to draw his piece before a bullet finds his heart.

Through my scope, I see Olga's eyes widen in terror. She bolts for the Town Car with surprising speed. The driver guns it before she's fully inside, tires squealing on wet pavement.

More shots ring out, but they do nothing to slow the car.

"Get to Dr. Chen and her daughter," I bark, already running for my waiting vehicle. "Keep them safe."

I slam the car—an inconspicuous Toyota—into drive as my drone operator's calm voice crackles through: "Vehicle westbound on Spokane, Vadim Petrovich."

The engine roars as I accelerate after them. Rain hammers against the windshield. The Town Car's taillights flash red in the distance as they turn onto the main road.

"They're taking the bridge into West Seattle," the drone operator updates.

I floor it, but the gap between us keeps growing. I grip the wheel tighter, wishing that I was in my Ferrari as I watch those red taillights grow smaller and smaller through the curtain of rain.

"Crash the fucking drone!" I snarl into my comm. "Into their windshield. Now!"

The little DJI Mavic overhead speeds up in front of the Town Car, and suddenly dive down like a missile. Brake lights flare as the drone bounces off the windshield.

The car swerves violently, scraping against the Jersey barrier. Then the front crumples just enough.

The entire car flips.

Once. Twice. Three times.

Metal screams against concrete, sparks flying in the rain like a shower of angry stars, before the wreck finally skids to a stop on its side with a sickening crunch of twisted steel and shattered glass.

I pull up next to it, and step, my shoes splashing in puddles as I walk toward the wreckage. The driver is still alive, moaning and trying to crawl through his shattered window.

I put two rounds in his head without breaking stride and wrench open Olga's door. She hangs suspended by her seatbelt, blood streaming from a gash in her forehead and lips. Her eyes flutter open and lock onto mine.

"Hello bastard," she whispers, her voice wet with blood.

I level my gun at her face. My finger tightens on the trigger.

"For a moment, I really thought Dr. Chen succeeded," Olga groans. "I dared to believe your little whore's belly was really split open, and your spawn dead inside."

My finger tightens on the trigger. Rain soaks my hair, but it does nothing to soothe the fury burning behind my eyes.

"Did it feel good?" I keep my voice steady despite the rage coursing through me. "Forcing a mother to kill someone else's child?"

Olga doesn't answer. Instead, her bloody lips curl into a smile. "Are you going to kill me, bastard?"

"I very much want to.” My finger remains steady on the trigger as rain soaks my brow. "For everything you've done."

"Then what's stopping you?"

"Because you saved my mother." The words taste like ash in my mouth. "Even if she was just another piece on your board."

Olga's laugh turns into a wet cough. "Is that what you think, bastard? That I saved her to spite Pyotr?" She shakes her head, wincing at the movement. "No. The truth was, I pitied her. There are nights when I can still hear her screams in that awful room when he forced all of us to watch."

My grip tightens on the gun. "Don't pretend?—"

"You want to know why I really hate you?"

Her eyes bore into mine with sudden intensity.

"Because you have a soft heart. Just like my Slava. Neither of you inherited that monster's soul." She continues, her voice barely above a whisper. "But Slava suffered, and you lived in his place."

The rain feels colder suddenly.

"All these years." Tears streams from her eyes, mixing with the blood from her forehead "I kept asking myself: just what did I do to deserve this punishment? Why couldn't I protect my own son from him?"

My finger trembles on the trigger as Olga's words sink in. Despite everything she's done, I understand why she did it.

"If you're going to do it, do it now." Olga's voice cuts through the pounding rain.

"Not until you tell me where Kirsan and Sayanaa are."

She closes her eyes, a bitter smile twisting her bloodied lips. "Still fighting that useless crusade. We both know I won't make it out of this car tonight. I have nothing left to lose, and no reason to commit yet another betrayal."

Rain streams down my face as I wait.

"Then again, if you go looking for a fight." She opens her eyes, meeting mine. "And die while you're at it, then maybe it'll all be worth it in the end."

The rain comes down fast and hard.

"Los Angeles," she whispers.

"Thank you." The gun shakes in my hand. "Polina Vladimirovna sends her regards."

She turns her cheek away from me, presenting the side of her head. She's ready. "Make it quick, Vadim Petrovich. Don't make me hurt like he did."

I squeeze the trigger.

The sound echoes across the empty bridge, swallowed by the drumming rain.

Her body slumps in the twisted wreck, and her blood mixes with rainwater. Ribbons of red twist away under the rumbling night sky. For a moment, I stand there, letting the rain wash over me.

The gun slides back into my shoulder holster, still warm. Water streams off my coat as I slip behind the wheel.

The windshield wipers beat a steady rhythm as I navigate through the empty streets toward Pankration. My hands grip the steering wheel tight enough that my knuckles show white, but I barely notice. All I can think about is Olga's final words about my brother, and the weight of thirty-four years of misplaced vengeance.

I drive in silence, leaving the wreckage of Olga's car behind me in the rain pondering what she just said.

My earpiece crackles. "Vadim Petrovich. Dr. Chen wants to talk to you."

I tap my earpiece. "Where?"

"Kelly's Diner off Aurora."

Rain pelts against my windshield as I turn the car around. Fifteen minutes later, I pull into the nearly empty parking lot. Through the diner's windows, I spot Dr. Chen and Bianca huddled in a corner booth, steaming mugs in front of them.

My boots squeak against the linoleum as I approach. Dr. Chen's eyes are red-rimmed, her hand clasped tightly around her daughter's. Bianca looks... hollow. The kind of emptiness I've seen too many times in other victims' eyes.

"Mr. Stravinsky." Dr. Chen's voice cracks. "I... thank you. For my daughter."

I slide into the booth across from them. "You understand they'll come looking for you both."

She nods, pulling Bianca closer. "I know. But where can we go?"

"Pankration has room," I say carefully, watching Bianca's reaction. "It's secure. Safe."

'I can't." Dr. Chen stiffens. "Not after what I almost..."

"Mom, please," Bianca speaks for the first time, her voice barely above a whisper. "I don't want to go back home."

Dr. Chen's face crumples as she looks at her daughter. I recognize that expression—the helpless anguish of a parent unable to protect her child from monsters.

"You'll both be protected there," I tell them quietly. "And I'm sure my wife will appreciate the company."

Almost an hour later, I step into Pankration, my clothes still damp from the rain.

Lacey rushes towards me, her face tight with worry. " Zvyozdochka ," I breathe as she crashes into my arms. Her familiar citrus and lavender scent fills my nose, grounding me after everything that just happened.

"How did it go?" She pulls back, searching my face. "Did you find?—"

I step aside, revealing Dr. Chen and Bianca hovering uncertainly in the doorway. Relief floods Lacey's features as she hurries to greet them both.

"Thank God you're both safe." She wraps them in a gentle hug before turning back. "Lenka!"

Our housekeeper appears almost instantly, as if she'd been waiting nearby. Lacey gestures to our new guests. "Could you help them get settled?"

"Of course." Lenka's weathered features soften as she takes in Bianca's haunted expression. She guides mother and daughter deeper into the mansion with practiced efficiency.

Once they're gone, Lacey turns back to me. Her amber-flecked eyes narrow as she studies my face. "What else happened? There's something you're not telling me."

I draw her close again, needing to feel her warmth. "Olga's dead," I say quietly against her hair. "I killed her."

I brace myself for the horror and revulsion I expect to see in Lacey's eyes. Instead, she cups my face between her palms, her gaze steady and sure.

"You did what you had to do," she says softly. "Olga made her choice when she sided with Sayanaa and Kirsan."

"But she saved my mother," I whisper, the weight of what I've done settling heavy in my chest.

"Yes, she did." Lacey's thumb strokes my cheek. "And it's alright that you feel conflicted about this. It shows you're nothing like what she claimed you were."

Her words hit me like a physical blow. "She told me why she hated me so much. Said I had a soft heart like Slava, and that she hated knowing Slava suffered while I lived."

"Then she should have protected you both instead of letting her bitterness poison everything." Lacey's voice carries a fierce certainty that makes my breath catch. "She saved your mother, yes, but she could not bring herself to love you when you needed it the most. And then she tried to force another mother to kill our child. She was given chances, and turned them away at every turn."

"You're starting to sound like a real pakhan's wife," I tell her, unable to keep the pride from my voice.

Lacey's fingers trace along my jaw as she holds my gaze. "That's because I married a real pakhan. Not some heartless monster who thinks having a conscience means weakness." Her touch sends warmth through my rain-chilled skin. "I married a man capable of love. Someone who understands the weight of what it means to take a life."

Before I can respond, she presses a finger to my lips. "Listen," she whispers.

I do as she asks, and for a moment, I hear nothing but the familiar sounds of Pankration at night—the hum of the security systems, the distant footsteps of my men on patrol. Then it reaches my ears: laughter. Female laughter, drifting down from upstairs where Dr. Chen and Bianca must be settling in.

My breath catches. In all my years here, since that first night when Pyotr brought me to Pankration at age six, I've never heard such a sound within these walls. Women's screams, yes. Sobs, definitely.

But never this—this simple, pure sound of joy.

"Do you hear that?" Lacey's voice is soft but firm. "That's your proof right there. You're nothing like Pyotr. These walls that once held so much pain are now protecting people. Sheltering them." Her hands frame my face. "That's what makes you different."