Maxym’s chuckle reverberates through the room, a sound that’s both amused and appreciative. “Practical, huh? I like that in a woman.”

Ivan, still adjusting his shirt, gives me a look that’s hard to read. “Well, that was unexpected. But I can’t say I’m complaining.”

Viktor, who’s been quieter than usual, finally speaks up. “We should probably focus on what’s next. This was a diversion, but we’ve got real issues to deal with.”

I nod, feeling a flush on my cheeks. “Right, of course. The attack, the rival gang, there’s a lot at stake.”

Ivan moves closer, his presence comforting. “Don’t worry. We’ll handle it. We always do.”

Maxym’s eyes are still on me, a playful glint in them. “You’re full of surprises, Sofia.”

I can’t help but smile back, feeling a sense of camaraderie with these men, despite the bizarre circumstances. “Well, you haven’t seen anything yet.”

Then Maxym’s phone rings. His calm face suddenly changes, now it’s like he’s a different person. He’s all tense, his eyes sharp and focused. Makes me wonder if they got some info from that guy they caught.

“I gotta go,” he says abruptly, his voice firm. “You should probably all go and eat something.”

He exchanges this look with Ivan. It’s weird, like they’re having a whole conversation without words. Here I am, feeling like a total outsider, clueless about what’s going on.

The air is thick with unspoken tension. I watch Maxym stride out, his steps quick and decisive. Ivan follows him with his eyes, a silent understanding passing between them.

I’m left lying there, a million questions buzzing in my head. What did that call mean? What are they planning? I feel a knot of anxiety in my stomach, growing tighter with each passing second.

Chapter 14

Maxym

My fist connects with the guy’s face for what feels like the hundredth time. Blood is everywhere, his face, my hands. He’s a mess, fingers missing, a sight that would turn a weaker stomach.

“Tell me who ordered you to hurt us. To hurt Sofia,” I growl, my patience wearing thin.

He’s beaten so bad, barely conscious. I lean in closer, my voice low but menacing. “This can be quick and painless if you just talk.”

The guy’s lips move, a mumbled mess of words, but his voice is so weak, it’s nearly inaudible. I lean in, frustration boiling inside me. “Come on, say it. Get it over with.”

Then, a whisper, faint and raspy. “Red car. Woman in a red car.”

What the fuck is he talking about? A woman in a red car? This makes no sense.

He doesn’t elaborate, just lies there, a broken man. I clench my fist and hit him again, hard. “Who? Who is the woman?” But deep down, I know he’s too far gone to give me anything more.

The torturer, the one who has done most of the work on this bastard, is waiting for orders. There’s a cold, hard edge to my voice as I say, “Get rid of him.”

The man on the floor, broken and bleeding, manages a weak plea. “P-please...” His voice is a faint whisper, barely audible.

But it’s too late for mercy, too late for second chances. The decision’s been made, and in this world, my world, decisions like these are final. His begging does nothing to sway me.

In this game, it’s kill or be killed, and we’re not about to be the latter. We protect what’s ours. And Sofia, she’s ours.

As the torturer drags the man away, his pleas fading into a desperate, muffled cry, I don’t feel a thing. No remorse, no hesitation.

A red car. The words nag at me, gnawing at my thoughts. It feels too vague, too inconsequential. I keep turning it over in my mind, but it leads nowhere. Frustrated, I pull out my phone and call Ivan.

“Ivan, the guy mentioned a red car. That’s all he had to fucking say.”

There’s a pause on the line, then Ivan’s voice, a hint of realization in his tone. “Wait, Sofia mentioned a red car. Said it was following us when we were heading towards the mansion.”

That hits me like a ton of bricks. How did I miss that? But then, doubt creeps in. A red car could mean anything. Anyone could have a red car. It’s too common, too random. Could it really be connected, or is it just a coincidence?