Page 3 of Crimson Curse
This is what betrayal looks like. Not the dramatic confrontation in movies or books, but a sweating, trembling man who sold out his employer for money he probably spent before he earned it. Pathetic and ultimately irrelevant to anything that matters.
I rise from my chair with the same deliberate slowness I used to sit down. My steps are steady, each one drumming across thestudy like a countdown to judgment. I lean close enough to smell his fear and desperation.
“You sold Naomi for money,” I whisper coldly. “You gave Viktor the chance to touch her. You enabled Lucien Antonov to return to my city and threaten everything I hold dear. And for that, there is no forgiveness.”
I straighten and glance at Maksim. He understands without words, as he always does. “Make him disappear.”
Ivan thrashes in the chair, panic exploding into frantic pleas. “Please!Pakhan, please, I didn't mean for this to happen! I have a family, children! I can make this right. I can help you find her!”
His words dissolve into muffled cries as Maksim clamps a massive hand on his shoulder. His grip is iron and utterly without mercy. Ivan is dragged from the room like the garbage he has proven himself to be, his voice echoing down the hallway until distance swallows it completely. The door slams, and the house is quiet again.
I stare at the desk, breathing hard, the rage inside me an inferno without end. The immediate threat has been dealt with, but it changes nothing. Naomi is still in Viktor's hands. Lucien is still in my city. And somewhere in the darkness of Chicago's underworld, the two men who have taken everything from me are planning their next move.
I will get her back. Whatever it costs, whatever it takes, and whatever piece of my soul I have to sacrifice, I will get her back. And then Viktor will face his day of reckoning.
2
NAOMI
The silence hits me first.
It’s not the kind of silence that exists in the city, where even the quiet hours are softened by distant sirens and the hum of traffic. This silence is complete and unbroken, stretching across the air until it settles against my skin. I open my eyes slowly, afraid of what I’ll see, and find myself staring at a ceiling of knotty pine. The beams above me are rough, uneven, and soaked in shadows, as if the trees they came from had never belonged inside four walls.
My body is wrapped in a quilt that smells faintly of cedar and smoke. It’s heavy, pinning me in place, and for a moment, I wonder if I’m still dreaming. But then the memories return, crashing down with merciless clarity. The alley. The gunfire. Viktor’s voice in the dark. The force of his hand shoving me into the SUV.
I jolt upright, ignoring the way the room spins. The quilt slides off my shoulders, pooling in my lap. I need to get out of here. The thought propels me forward, though my legs feel like jelly.I make it three steps toward the window before the sound of footsteps makes my heart lurch.
Viktor appears in the doorway, and I'm struck by how normal he looks. He's changed out of the suit he wore during the kidnapping into dark jeans and a cream-colored sweater. His light brown hair is perfectly styled, not a strand out of place. He looks like he could be hosting a dinner party instead of holding someone captive.
“Good morning,” Viktor says, his voice warm and polished. It’s the same voice he used at Daniil’s estate when he charmed a room full of enemies while plotting their downfall. “You slept well, I trust?”
The casual normalcy of his greeting makes everything worse. I don't move. Can't move. My feet feel rooted to the floor, yet every muscle in my body is wound tight with the urge to run. But where would I go? We're clearly miles from anywhere.
“Please, sit down.” He gestures to the sofa like we're old friends meeting for coffee. “You shouldn't be standing so soon after... well, after everything.”
Viktor notices my hesitation, and his expression softens into something that might pass for concern if I didn't know better. “Naomi, I'm not going to hurt you. Please, sit. You must be disoriented.”
“Where am I?” The words tumble out, my voice pitched higher than usual, but at least it doesn’t shake.
“Somewhere safe.” He moves into the room, and I instinctively step back. “A little retreat I keep for special occasions. Far from the city, and prying eyes. Far from Daniil.”
The way he pronounces his cousin's name sets my teeth on edge. There's something poisonous in it, years of resentment distilled into those three syllables.
“What do you want?” I manage to ask.
Viktor's smile widens, and for the first time, I see a crack in his composed facade. His eyes glitter with manic intensity, making my stomach turn. “What do I want? That's a complicated question, Naomi. But for now, I want you to sit down and have some tea. You look pale.”
He disappears from the doorway, and I hear him moving around in what must be a kitchen. The mundane sounds of cupboards opening, water running, and the clinking of porcelain feel surreal. I stand there for several long moments, considering my options. The front door is padlocked. The window is too small to climb through, and even if it weren’t, I can see nothing but forest in every direction.
Viktor returns with tea service on a wooden tray, complete with delicate china cups and a plate of cookies. He sets it down on a small table near the window and gestures for me to join him.
“Earl Grey,” he announces, as if we're sitting in his parlor instead of whatever this place is. “I wasn't sure what you preferred, but it seemed like a safe choice.”
I remain standing. “I want to go home.”
“Home.” He pours tea into both cups, steam rising between us. “And where exactly is home, Naomi? That little apartment you share with Charlotte? The museum where you work late into the night? Or perhaps you mean wherever Daniil is?”
The last question hits its mark, and he knows it. His smile turns feral.
