Page 80 of Beautiful Agony

Outside, the night air hangs heavy around us. I watch as two of my other men roughly shove Mackland into the back of a black SUV. The corrupt cop struggles against his restraints, but stops when one of my men presses a gun to his ribs.

"Easy," I tell Mikhail and Anton as we maneuver Freddy into the backseat of my car. "Watch his head."

We lay him across the leather seats as gently as possible. His blood keeps coming. I don't care about the car.

"Drive," I bark at the driver as I slide in next to Freddy. The engine roars to life.

"I got you, Freddy," I say, and his eyes twitch. "I got you, Freddy! Stay with me!"

Freddy takes a raspy breath. It's coming out shallower than before. Panic seizes around my throat.

I grab my phone and dial Demyon. He picks up on the first ring.

"Get Dr. Volkov over to Pankration," I snap without preamble. "Head wound, potentially critical. As fast as you can."

"On it," Demyon replies and hangs up.

Freddy's breathing grows shallower. I press my fingers to his neck—his pulse is weak but present.

"FREDDY! STAY WITH ME!"

I burstthrough Pankration's doors, Mikhail and Anton carrying Freddy between them. The tie around his head is soaked through with blood.

"This way!" Demyon waves us towards the sitting room. "Dr. Volkov's still twenty minutes out."

Lacey and Megan rush forward, faces going pale at the sight of their brother. Dr. Chen steps forth immediately, medical instincts taking over.

"Put him on the table," she commands. "I can stabilize him until the surgeon arrives."

My men lay Freddy down carefully. Dr. Chen immediately starts examining the wound, calling out orders for supplies. Her daughter Bianca runs to fetch them.

"What happened?" Lacey's voice trembles as she watches, her fingers tugging at the necklace around her throat.

"Sayanaa was there," I tell her, watching Dr. Chen work. "She must have anticipated that we'd try something like this. She had Mackland waiting with a shotgun."

"Sayanaa?" Lacey's grip tightens. Something dangerous flashes in her eyes. "Where is she?"

"We have her in custody. She's being brought to?—”

"Take me to her." Lacey's voice carries an edge I've never heard before. "Now!"

"Zvyozdochka—"

"Don't 'zvyozdochka' me, Vadim. That psychotic bitch just tried to kill my brother. Take. Me. To. Her."

I look into my wife's eyes and see a fury that matches my own. She's not asking as my wife or as the mother of my child.

She's demanding this as a pakhan's wife.

"Alright," I nod. "Follow me."

I guide Lacey down the narrow stone steps into Pankration's dungeons. The only light comes from old incandescent lights casting long shadows on the walls.

This place holds memories I'd rather forget—screams and pleas from Pyotr's victims that still echo in my nightmares.

Lacey's feet glide over the stone, each step measured with barely-restrained fury. Her shoulders are rigid and her jaw clenched tight. But it's her eyes that concern me.

There is no warmth to those amber-flecked eyes.

---