Page 34

Dimitri Volkov

I wake from a refreshing nap as though born anew, feeling lighter than I have in decades. Camilla lies wrapped around me, half covered and deep asleep.

Tiny feet patter down the hall. I roll out of bed, tuck the covers around moya so?lnyshka , and place a kiss on her forehead before dressing in sweats and plodding out into the house.

Zoya wanders behind Maksim as he follows his imagination around the house.

Artur pulls leftovers out from the fridge.

I join him in the kitchen. Maksim and Zoya follow soon after.

Artur finds card and board games in the closet, so we settle in the living room for games.

I lament my lack of time with them previously.

Artur wins several games with ease, proving his wicked smarts before pulling back and ensuring Maksim wins often enough to not be discouraged.

Zoya plays with a separate deck of cards, sorting them by color first and then spreading them over the floor in a game only her stuffed animal understands.

When Camilla emerges from the bedroom almost two hours later, she pouts about me not waking her. Her disapproving scowl amuses me, so I kiss her until she melts in my arms.

Artur averts his eyes and stares blankly at his cards while Maksim jumps up and skips to us. Zoya grabs her fluffy companion and hugs Camilla’s leg.

The atmosphere turns awkward when she sits on the couch with Artur, but after a moment, she turns to him.

“Thank you, Artur, for calling out and warning me. For caring. But you don’t have to call me mama if it makes you uncomfortable,” she says.

To my surprise, tears fill Artur’s eyes. He throws his arms around her and sobs.

“No, you are my Mama Camilla. I am ashamed I could not protect you. You took my place and closed the door. You—”

“I’d do it again in a heartbeat,” she interrupts.

“Why?” he asks.

“Because you deserve it. Your mother would’ve done the same. I can’t replace her—and I don’t want to, so talk about her anytime you miss her—but I’ll always give you my everything. Capisci ?” she says in a voice thick with tears.

Artur wipes his eyes and takes her hands.

“You won’t have to protect me for long. I will get braver and stronger and become the protector of the entire family,” he vows.

“Deal, although I’ll always be there for you, yeah?” she chokes.

Joy blooms in my chest. It may not be dignified of me, but I do not give a shit. My family is more important. I drop to my knees in front of the couch and wrap them both in my arms. Maksim and Zoya flock to us. I add them into the hug.

This is what’s most important in my life. I took my blessings for granted, too blinded by the brutality of my life’s work to realize how much my family needed me.

When Camilla’s stomach rumbles, Maksim launches into listing everything we left on the table in the kitchen.

The boy is a gifted menace. His recall abilities are amazing. By the happy spark in Camilla’s eyes, she notices it too and is already envisioning ways to nurture him into a genius.

As we head to the kitchen, a bloodstain on Zoya’s stuffed animal catches my eye. I crouch in front of her.

“We must wash your stuffed animal, moya doch’ ,” I say.

She tightens her arm around it, shakes her head, and backs away as though threatened by my suggestion.

“It is dirty. I can get the stains out—”

She stomps her foot and runs to Camilla.

Camilla catches her with a grimace and sits in a chair at the table.

After a few minutes of holding her and calming her down, Camilla says, “Baby, he doesn’t want to keep your doll. He just wants to clean it.”

Zoya shakes her head and buries her face in the stuffed animal. Camilla blinks and tilts her head, studying our daughter for a moment before her eyes light.

“I want to show you something, Zoya. It’s in my bathroom,” she says.

I trail after them as they join hands and head to the master. When Camilla pulls the box the facility sent the rest of her belongings to us in from the bottom of the linen closet, confusion swirls through me. She digs through until she finds what she’s looking for.

The perfume bottle looks familiar.

She holds it up for Zoya to inspect.

“Your mama used to wear this, didn’t she? Here, try it,” she says.

She pulls off the cap and spritzes a bit in the air beside Zoya. My three-year-old leans into the scent and cries so hard tears stream down her face and drool leaks out around her thumb.

Camilla gathers her to her chest and coos words of comfort.

My heart breaks anew as I feel the depths of my daughter’s misery. At a loss, I rub my chest for a moment before dropping and wrapping my arms around them both.

Artur hovers in the doorway a moment before shuffling inside. He extends his hand, revealing a photo of Anastasia before she fell ill.

“You can have this one, Zoya. I brought a few more. I miss Mama a lot, too,” he mumbles.

Zoya blinks at the photo but doesn’t take it.

Anastasia was sick for so long. Does she remember what her mother looked like before all the hospital visits?

When her pudgy hand reaches out and pulls it closer to her face, recognition lights her eyes. She squeaks into her thumb and presses the photo to her chest.

Artur pats her head and makes way for Maksim’s exuberance.

“That’s why you never let us wash your stuffed animal; you didn’t want Mama’s scent to fade. But look, Mama Camilla has the same perfume. It must be fate! Let’s spray some now and after we wash it,” my second born exclaims.

With a plan in place, Zoya relaxes and nods her head.

One day, she’ll feel secure enough to remove her thumb from her mouth, but I will show her the same patience and respect I have for my wife—who revealed to me how poorly I treated my children.

After Camilla spritzes the doll a few times, the boys lead Zoya out of the room, eager to walk their sister through washing the stuffed animal and showing her the other photos they have of their birth mother.

I help Camilla to her feet and cup her chin.

“You’re brilliant, moya zhena . I don’t know how we survived without you,” I say.

Her lip trembles.

“I don’t know how I did either. You brought light back into my life, Dimitri. I love you. I love them,” she says.

“You already had the light within you, so?lnyshka , you just needed someone to shine it onto,” I murmur.

Her breath catches.

I kiss her with the awe and devotion overflowing my soul.

Maksim’s laughter peals through the house. I pull back with reluctance and rub my thumb over her cheek. Her scars reawaken the vicious satisfaction I felt when I buried my bullets in my brother’s brain.

“Two more,” I vow.

She sucks in a breath and shakes her head, but I growl and encompass her face with my hands.

“The vermin will run underground now that their leader is gone, but they will not escape me. I will not stop until they pay for hurting you, Camilla,” I say with every ounce of sincerity in my soul.

Her eyes soften. “You’re mine. Moya zhena .

Moya so?lnyshka . I made you a promise and will not break it . Da? ” I promise.

She sighs, nods, and wraps her arms around me. Savage delight gleams in her midnight eyes.

“Good. I’ll keep our children safe as you rid the world of nightmares,” she says as she rests her head on my chest.

She sighs again and mumbles, “You won’t go back to Russia until you’ve killed them all, will you?”

I chuckle in response. She is wise beyond her years.

“Fine, then get it over with so we can get the children back to their home,” she says.

“You may not have noticed, but you are their home now. They adore and trust you and will follow you to the ends of the earth if you asked,” I say.

She shakes her head.

“I don’t want to uproot them more than necessary. I want them to grow in a safe, loving, sturdy home, so finish our revenge quickly. Capisci ?”

“We won’t leave without a proper wedding,” I declare.

She lifts her head so quickly she almost clips my chin and blinks wide eyes up at me.

“What? Why? We’re already married,” she says.

“This is forever, so?lnyshka . We may not have done things in the proper order, but I will not let you leave without walking you down the aisle in front of all your friends and family,” I say.

She quirks a brow.

“You just want to claim me in front of everyone, don’t you? I hurt your pride when I dragged you around that jewelry store and now you want to—”

I take her mouth in a kiss so passionate we both heave when I lift my head.

“You’re wrong, Camilla. You did not hurt my pride. I was so turned on I could barely breathe,” I whisper against her lips.

She shivers.

“Everyone will know who you belong to,” I snarl before diving back into her mouth.

She pulls away and tucks her face against my chest as she struggles to gather her thoughts.

“I want that. Walk me down the aisle. Make sure the venue is as extravagant as this ridiculous ring,” she demands against my sternum.

I chuckle and kiss the top of her head, eager to fulfill her every wish.

For a few moments, we stand wrapped up in each other, marveling over how well our bodies fit together, then separate and dive back into the chaos of our children.

Later that evening, I receive a call from Yerik.

He confirms the body count—which consists solely of Feliks’s men—and agrees to send the location where he has several prisoners ready for questioning.

I give him orders to collect all dashcam footage and phone recordings for snippets of the dead men’s voices. He agrees without question.

I dress in a suit, kiss my wife, and fumble through goodbyes with my children before leaving the townhouse. It proves the most difficult thing I’ve ever had to do, but I hop in the new car I bought this afternoon and drive away from my family.

I slip into my emotionless assassin persona and include a few detours in my drive to the location Yerik shared with me, ensuring I have no one following me.

The basement my second-in-command prepared for interrogations is absolutely perfect for the mind games I intend to play with my exiled brother’s best men.

A massive hole sits in the foundation’s corner with a few inches of putrid water at the bottom.

Metal hooks hang from the exposed beams in the ceiling.

Racks line the walls. An industrial washer and dryer—each big enough to fit two men inside—sit at the bottom of the stairs.

A table full of rusty tools takes up the space underneath the only window.

Sitting with their ankles and knees bound in front of them and their wrists and elbows connected to the pipes on the wall, nine men await my cruelties. Makeshift gags and blindfolds cover their faces.

“Have any confessed?” I ask Yerik.

He shakes his head.

With all our leads in one room, the other four men I brought to Russia with me loiter within the area, ready for their turn to get their hands dirty.

“Then let’s begin,” I say as I shuck my suit coat off, hang it on a hook, and roll up my sleeves.

I’ll do anything to ensure moya so?lnyshka sleeps peacefully in my bed every night.

Killing Feliks was a pleasure. Torturing these men will be the same.

Camilla Vivaldi is now Camilla Volkov. She is mine. My wife. My everything.

She’s the pillar of my family, supporting and caring for my children in ways I never thought possible.

I love her. I need her.

I will gladly be her angel of death.

Forever.