Page 157 of Stricken

"We'll figure it out," Nico whispers, then pauses for a second and adds, "I have something for you." A glint of excitement appears in his eyes. "A gift. But we'll need to take a little trip to see it."

"A trip?" I frown. "Nico, I can barely make it to the bathroom without help."

He grins. "When you're better, of course."

"Can this gift be delivered to the doorstep?"

"Sadly, this gift is not easily transferred." He smirks. "Consider it motivation for your recovery."

"You're infuriating," I grumble, but I can't keep the smile from my face.

Nico leans in, his lips brushing my ear. "You love it."

And God help me, I think I do.

* * *

Ivan's eyes flick to the rearview mirror, catching mine for a second before returning to the road. Tension in the car is charged, like fireworks not truly celebrating any holiday.

Nico hasn't said anything since we left my place, but our fingers are intertwined.

I grip my cane tighter with my free hand. The cast is gone, but the memory of pain lingers. Each step is a cruel reminder of how close I came to losing everything. I hate it.

We drive for a good hour, leaving the city behind. All three of us are silent.

"We're here," Ivan announces, his accent thicker than usual.

The place where we arrive looks like a collection of several dilapidated structures. Nico helps me out of the vehicle and we start walking past the buildings and deeper into the shabby complex. There, there's an entrance to what looks like an underground bunker.

As if on cue, Costa emerges from around the corner.

"Gentlemen." He nods, unlocking a rusted door. His gaze drifts over to me. "Your package awaits, Mr. Solovey."

It all seems so well-orchestrated, like they've all been preparing this "gift" behind my back for a hot minute. But I go with the flow of the moment and follow the lead.

We descend into darkness, the air growing thick with the stench of old piss. My cane taps a slow rhythm on the concrete with each step I take. I don't like other people seeing me as less than capable, but I much rather use the cane than lean on Nico every chance I get. It makes me feel even more disabled.

The stairs end at the edge of the dark room.

Costa flips the switch and weak light illuminates the space.

And then I see him.

Shtyk. The boogeyman of my nightmares.

I stop breathing for several heartbeats. Catching him was of no importance while I was in the hospital. Ivan's orders were always simple in case something happened to me. Make sure Nico's life isn't threatened. Protect the club and the Hellhounds. Protect what matters. Forget everything else.

But now, this scum reduced to a battered shell of his former glory, is here. And I wait for excitement to come back. I wait for adrenaline. I wait for that feeling of accomplishment I always thought I'd experience when I finally catch up with the man. It doesn't come to me. Doesn't fill my blood with savage happiness.

"Solovey Junior," Shtyk croaks, managing a sneer despite his split lip. His golden tooth glints dully in the unflattering light, flashy and mocking, even here. "What brings you to my place?"

I take a step forward and lean heavily on my cane, suddenly grateful for its support. "I've come to end what you started," I say, surprised by the steadiness in my voice.

Shtyk laughs, a wet, choking sound. "And how will you do that. With that stick of yours?"

I feel Nico tense beside me, ready to intervene. But this... this is something I need to face alone.

"Karma is a bitch." I step closer. Close enough to reach his face with my free hand but I don't want to soil myself with his blood. "Did no one ever tell you?"

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