Page 12 of Crimson Curse
Tears well in my eyes, forcing me back to the reality I've been trying to avoid. Daniil is driving toward a trap. Right now, while Viktor holds me prisoner in this suburban nightmare, the manI've grown to love more than I ever thought possible is racing toward his death. And it's my fault.
The guilt threatens to crush me. If I hadn't gotten involved with Daniil, if I hadn't let myself care about him, Viktor wouldn't have this leverage. Daniil would be safe. But the thought of a world without Daniil in it, of never seeing his rare smile or feeling the gentle strength of his hands, fills me with a despair so deep I can barely breathe.
I close my eyes, willing myself not to recoil from Viktor's touch. Every part of me is screaming in rage and revulsion, but I won't give in. Not when Daniil might still be alive. Not when there might still be hope.
“You can chain me, cage me, and bleed me dry,” I manage to get out, my voice trembling but unyielding. Each word costs me, but I force them out anyway. “But you will never break me.”
His hand lingers in my hair, stroking gently, his expression maddeningly calm. Like he's petting a particularly interesting specimen that he's captured for study. “We'll see,” he whispers.
And at that moment, I realize he wants me as proof. Proof that he's better than Daniil. Proof that he can take what his cousin loves and make it his own. I'm not a person to him. I'm a trophy. A symbol of his victory over the man he's spent his life resenting.
The handcuff bites into my wrist. Daniil is somewhere out there. And here I am, helpless to warn him or do anything but endure Viktor's twisted version of courtship. But no matter what he does, no matter how long he keeps me here, one truth burns hotter than all the fear. I will not break.
5
DANIIL
The estate is silent, but my rage makes it deafening. I failed. The ambush in Wisconsin was supposed to end with Naomi back in my arms and Viktor in the ground. Instead, I walked into a trap orchestrated by my cousin and his snake of an ally, Lucien Antonov. The name is a rot in my blood, steeped in betrayal past and present.
The memory of the cabin burns through me like acid. The empty rooms, the stale air, the realization that we'd been led into a trap. Viktor's coordinates were perfect bait, leading us exactly where Lucien wanted us. They knew we were coming. They knew our route, our timing, our numbers. I grind my teeth so hard that it sends a pulse of pain through my skull.
I slam my hand against the office door hard enough that the wood groans. It swings open, banging against the wall with a crash. The sound does nothing to ease the violence churning in my chest. At least none of my men were killed. A few injuries, but they'll live. Roman was grazed by a bullet. Maksim has a gash across his cheek that he refuses to let the medic stitch.Battle scars, he calls them. Trophies of survival. But survival isn't victory. Not when Naomi is still out there.
“Pakhan.”
Lex's voice comes from the doorway, calm and unshaken. He never rushes, raises his voice, or lets emotion bleed through his composure. It's what makes him invaluable. It's also what makes him infuriating when every nerve in my body screams for action.
“She's still out there,” I growl, my chest heaving. The words tear from my throat like broken glass. “Viktor has her. And I walked right into his trap like a fucking amateur.”
The admission tastes bitter. Viktor sent me to an empty cabin while Lucien waited in the trees with an army. It should be impossible. It should be unthinkable that my cousin would fall this far into betrayal.
Lex steps inside, shutting the door behind him with the soft click that signals we're moving into strategy mode. His presence fills the room differently now, more focused and intense. “You're alive. That means it wasn't a complete success for them.”
“Alive isn't enough,” I snap, pacing. My feet wear a path in the rug my grandmother brought from Moscow decades ago. The irony isn't lost on me. Family heirlooms surround me while my family tears itself apart. “She should have been there.”
The image of the empty cabin burns behind my eyelids. Viktor never intended to trade her.
“Blyat!” My fist slams into the wall, plaster cracking under my knuckles. Pain radiates up my arm, grounding me in its raw simplicity. The physical hurt is clean and honest, unlikeeverything else in this mess. I wipe the blood from my knuckles onto my shirt, leaving dark stains on the white cotton.
“He's been planning this for weeks,” Lex observes evenly, watching me pace like a ticking fuse. “With Lucien in his ear, he has resources you can't underestimate.”
I turn on him, fury boiling so hot it burns cold. “Do you think I give a fuck about Lucien's resources? Viktor took her. He thinks he can touch what's mine. He thinks he can use her against me.”
The words come out low and dangerous. Lex has heard this tone before. He knows what it means. Bodies in shallow graves. Enemies who simply disappear. He studies me silently, knowing me well enough not to try to douse the flames with logic or caution. He knows I need to feel this rage and let it crystallize into something useful and deadly.
The grandfather clock in the corner ticks away precious seconds. Each sound reminds me that Naomi is somewhere trapped, afraid, and possibly hurt. The thought makes my hands shake with the need for violence.
The door creaks open again, and Maksim barges in without knocking. He's all muscle and menace, built like a bear and twice as mean when provoked. Blood has dried on his knuckles from our failed raid, and his shirt is torn at the shoulder where a bullet grazed him.
“Get out unless you have something useful,” I snarl.
His grin is sharp enough to cut glass. “Maybe I do.” He tosses a burner phone onto the desk, the plastic clattering against the marble. “Our contact in Cicero just called. Nervous as hell but talking. He saw movement around one of Viktor's places in Illinois. A safehouse. Not one of the usual ones we have marked.Quiet. Suburban. Neighbors probably think it's a rental property for tourists.”
My head snaps up like a wolf catching a scent. “Details.”
“Black SUV pulled into the garage an hour ago. Illinois plates, but they looked fresh. Lights came on inside after midnight. No movement since, but our guy swears he saw figures moving past the windows. At least four, maybe more.” Maksim shrugs, but his grin sharpens. “Could be nothing. Could be exactly what we've been waiting for.”
Hope is a dangerous thing in my world. It makes men careless, makes them take risks that get them killed. But this is a lead. The first real sign of Naomi since she was dragged out of that alley and Viktor threw her into his SUV like a piece of cargo. My chest tightens, rage reshaping into icy clarity.
