Page 58 of Twisted Obsession
As I sank back onto the bed, curling into a tight ball, the weight of deception settled heavily upon me. Everything I had believed about my life was a mirage, shattered into pieces. My father, a murderer. My mother, a murderer. Dmitri, a murderer. The betrayal from everyone I cared for and loved cut deep, leaving me with a single, overwhelming desire: to escape this web of lies, even if it meant embracing death.
The only solace I craved was for Ivan to have turned off the light before he left. Because in the darkness, I could hide from the pain, from the betrayals, and from a world where no one could reach me to inflict further harm.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Dmitri
“What do you mean, it just disappeared?” I cursed, snatching Stepan’s cell from his hand with a surge of frustration. “How could we have her location one second and it’s gone the next?”
Before I could even begin to formulate a plan to rescue Lara, the dot that marked her location on Stepan’s cell vanished into thin air, leaving only an empty map behind.
“Ivan must have found the tracker and gotten rid of it,” Stepan replied, his voice heavy with regret.
“Fuck.”
We had been so close to retrieving Lara, and now we were left with nothing but empty air and a gnawing sense of loss. The thought that Ivan could have taken her anywhere, without a trace, was maddening. In a fit of rage, I swept everything offmy desk, sending papers and objects flying, scattering across the floor.
“Sir,” Yuri’s voice echoed from the other side of the open door, cutting through my fury like a lifeline. “The prisoner is secure.”
Andrei.
My uncle had attended that fundraiser for a purpose. He knew Andrei—there was no other way he could have been there without an invitation. Andrei was my only hope of finding Lara.
“Prisoner?” Angelo questioned, confusion and curiosity mingling in his tone.
“Andrei. I have him downstairs.” I moved swiftly, rounding my desk and heading out of my office with Angelo and Giovanni trailing closely behind, unable to resist the pull of unfolding events.
We walked past the cells and into the dimly lit torture room where Andrei sat bloodied and bruised, bound to a heavy metal chair anchored in the center of the room. The chair was strategically placed above a floor drain, a grim reminder of the ease of cleanup whenever blood was spilled.
“Andrei Zhukov,” I spat his name, the taste bitter on my tongue.
“Angelo, Giovanni. What is this about?” Andrei’s eyes flickered past me to the two men he had once trusted implicitly.
“You were like a brother to me and what do you do? You betrayed my trust by selling my daughter to Viktor Antonov.” Giovanni stepped forward, his voice a mixture of sorrow andanger, and to my surprise, he slapped Andrei across the face. “I made you her guardian. I trusted you with her life.”
“I couldn’t do it. Lidia and I were going to take Lara away, but then Ivan showed up,” Andrei’s voice cracked, his face contorted with anguish as he shook, the chair creaking under the weight of his grief. “He killed my dear Lidia.” His eyes shimmered with unshed tears, the memory too agonizing to bear.
“Why did he kill Lidia?” I inched closer, a burning need to unravel the mystery of my uncle’s presence and actions consuming me.
“Because she was pregnant with his child. I refused to allow the child of a devil to live in our home,” Andrei confessed, each word dripping with regret. His eyes were haunted, a deep well of sorrow reflecting the torment within. “I gave her a choice. She terminated the pregnancy. Because of my selfishness, he killed her,” he admitted, the remorse in his eyes as palpable as the air around us.
“Why did you kill my father?” I demanded, my voice a barely contained snarl as I seized him by the shirt collar, my grip fierce and unyielding.
“I didn’t kill Victor. Ivan did,” Andrei’s voice quivered, a storm of emotions swirling in his eyes—anger, sorrow, and a deep-seated torment that gnawed at his very soul. His head shook slowly, haunted by memories he could not escape. “Ivan discovered that Victor was the mastermind behind the brutal raid on the day of your initiation into the Bratva. It was then he uncovered the chilling truth—that Victor was responsible for the deaths of your mother and Ana. Ana was Ivan’s beloved daughter. Just as he violated my dear Lidia, Ivan had cruellyviolated your mother. His twisted obsession with securing an heir to seize control of the Bratva drove him to unimaginable acts,” Andrei revealed, his words heavy with the weight of a dark past.
“You’re lying,” I spat, my grip on Andrei’s shirt tightening, my knuckles white with the force of my anger.
“My cell. It is on my cell,” he gasped, his voice strained as I continued to constrict his airway.
Stepan, who had been standing silently nearby, brought over the items he had taken from Andrei before restraining him to the chair. He handed me the cell, its surface cool and unyielding. I swiped the screen, but it remained locked, protected by Andrei’s fingerprint. I stepped up to Andrei, his eyes pleading with me as I placed his thumb on the sensor, the tension in the room thick enough to cut with a knife.
As I sifted through his saved photos and scrolled through the messages, everything about him seemed to paint the picture of a perfect man. But I knew the truth. Eventually, I found the evidence I was searching for and let the recording play, allowing the voices from the past to fill the room.
“I’m not going to kill you, Andrei, but only because I may need you later,” my uncle’s voice echoed with a chilling calmness as I listened intently.
“Thank you, Ivan. Your secret is safe with me. I won’t tell anyone that you killed Viktor,” Andrei stammered, his words laced with palpable fear.
BANG!
