Fedor’s mouth turns up in a smirk, but the expression doesn’t reach his eyes. His eyes are those of a cornered animal, searching desperately for escape. He keeps checking the building to see if any of his men are coming to save him. “Is this about me kidnapping Molly or when I impregnated her?”
“Raped her,” I correct. “You drugged her and raped her, and I should have known the moment she told me what you did that you were unredeemable, but I thought maybe I could help you.”
“Help me?” He snorts. “Is that what you call keeping my son from me? Is that what you call lying to me and sleeping with the mother of my child? Were you helping me? Well, excuse me for being confused.”
“I was helping them,” I say. “I was keeping them safe from you and hoping that you would turn it around and become a human again. But no matter how hard I tried, you became more and more of a monster, and now, you are irredeemable. There’s nothing else to be done.”
His breathing is growing heavy, and I know that even without a final shot, Fedor will bleed out back here. He will lie in the grass and spill his blood until there is nothing left. It may take a while, but he’ll die.
“Giving up on me so easily?” he gasps. “I thought you would always protect me, Vik.”
His voice is a mix between a sneer and a plea, and I know it is his way of begging for his life. He is trying to appeal to my big-brother heart. He is trying to make me feel something for him, but he is too late.
“I am protecting you,” I say, kneeling down in front of him, looking into his eyes. “I’m protecting you from yourself.”
He opens his mouth to say something else, but before he can, I press my gun to his temple and pull the trigger.
25
Molly
We are backed into a dead end and Mario Mazzeo does not look well.
“Come on, Dad. We have to keep going,” Rio says, trying to rouse his father. But I can tell by the look in his eyes that he is wondering whether to go down with this ship or try to save himself.
Regardless of what he decides, I’m going to try to save myself. I’m not dying here like this.
We made it out of the hallway with the prison cells all right, but the moment we walked out of the stairwell on the first floor, all hell broke loose. Fedor has even more men fighting for him than I thought, and they were all congregated in the large entrance hall. They started fighting the moment we opened the door and haven’t stopped since.
The Italian dons put up a good fight, especially considering they were fighting a lot of their own men who went to Fedor’s side when they realized their leaders were locked in a prison cell upstairs. Mario is a hell of a shot, and Rio gave his dad as much cover as he could. I did my best to clear a path from the stairwell to a more covered location. It helped that many of the men weren’t armed. Apparently, they hadn’t been expecting three of their captives to burst into the room armed to the teeth.
But now, we are trapped in a back room with the door barricaded while Fedor’s men arm themselves and prepare to kill us all.
I circle the room several times in search of a window or a back door, but there is nothing. Unlike the room upstairs, this closet is not filled with weapons, but produce. It is some kind of pantry, and unless the Mazzeos know how to turn protein bars into weapons of mass destruction, I don’t see how we are going to get out of here alive.
Suddenly, there is a piercing alarm that fills the air and the sound of voices on the other side of the door fades to stunned silence.
Then, the alarm goes quiet, and I hear it. The sound I’ve been dying to hear for hours … days … weeks.
Viktor’s voice.
“Fedor is dead.”
Mario gasps and moves towards the door, pressing his ear against it to hear better.
“Fedor is dead,” Viktor repeats, talking through some kind of megaphone. “Put down your weapons and live or be shot on sight.”
“Holy shit,” Mario says, a smile spreading across his face. “Holy shit, we’re going to live.”
I run to the door and push him aside. I don’t know what is happening on the other side of that door, but I need to see Viktor. Now.
I ready my gun, take a calming breath, and open the door.
Fedor’s soldiers are standing around the room, looking confused, and when I walk out, they all return to high alert. Too many guns to count are pointed at me.
Then, the front door of the building bursts open and Viktor comes storming in.
“Put down your weapons,” he shouts, his voice echoing off the walls.
No one moves, and Viktor lifts his gun and shoots the first man he encounters. The bullet tears through his hand, forcing him to drop the weapon, and Viktor raises an eyebrow at everyone else. “Drop. Your. Weapons.”
Immediately, the sound of guns clattering to the floor echoes around the room, and I meet his eyes.
His face is blood splattered and muddy, and his clothes are full of holes, but he is whole and breathing and staring at me like I’m a ghost. Like he can’t believe what he is seeing.
Men surge forward around him, beginning the arduous process of getting Fedor’s men under control, but I ignore all of it and rush towards Viktor. I just need to feel him in my arms. I need to know he is okay.
I’m only a few steps away from him when he stumbles. Then, just as I reach him, he drops to one knee and then the other.
“Viktor?” I try to catch him, but he is too heavy, and we both fall to the floor. His head lands in my lap, and I smooth his hair back from his forehead as his eyes flutter closed.
There is blood on his arm, two holes in the front of his shirt where bullets hit his vest, and then I see the bloodstain on his leg. He is hurt, and even though I’m desperate for him to scoop me up and carry me out of here, I have to be the one who is strong.
Right now, I have to save him.
“Pick him up,” I bark at two of the men standing closest. “Careful with his wounds. Get him in a car. Now.”
The men hesitate for only a second before they follow my commands. I stand up and smooth down my dirty clothes. I know I don’t look the part of a Bratva queen, but it is more important than ever that I play it. If Viktor was telling the truth and Fedor really is dead, these men are all looking for someone to follow.
And right now, they are going to follow me.
I’m sitting in an uncomfortable chair with a scratchy blanket wrapped around my legs when I hear my favorite sound in the entire world: Theo’s laughter.
“She’s in there,” Niamh says, appearing in the doorway, ushering in my dark-haired angel.
I fall out of the chair and onto the tile floor. I open my arms wide as Theo runs into them, burying his face in my neck. I plaster him with kisses as he tries to tell me all of the fun things he and Niamh did together.
Once I got Viktor admitted to the hospital and stabilized, Seamus called and told me Theo was asleep at his house with Niamh, and she would bring him in the morning. He also asked me what I wanted done with the Italian dons.
“They are saying you promised them immunity?”
I was so confident back at the warehouse, making promises I wasn’t sure I’d be able to keep. Part of me wanted to bend to Seamus’ will and tell him to do what he wanted with them, but another part of me wasn’t ready to get rid of the power I claimed while I was locked up. I came out of that warehouse a stronger, more confident woman, and I don’t want all of that pain and trauma to be for nothing.