Page 93 of Unforgiving Saint (Starukhin Bratva)

“Kolya!” she shouts. “This is not the smart thing to do.”

“Smart?” I chuckle like a lunatic and unlock the cabinet. “You think I give a damn about being smart right now? All I want is Eden back by my side, where she belongs. And if Sorokin won’t give her back willingly, then I’ll take her by force.”

“And what happens when you get both yourself and Eden killed?” Larissa pleads, her voice breaking. “Don’t you think it’sworth waiting just a little longer to devise a plan that won’t endanger her?”

“Endanger her? She’s already in danger every second she’s with that bastard!” I bellow, my rage reaching its peak.

Rows of automatic rifles are neatly lined up in the gray metal cabinet. I pull one out, and my hand caresses the hard metal like I’ve been reunited with my first love. My mind creates vivid thoughts of vengeance and bloodshed, and I imagine ripping Sorokin apart piece by piece until he begs me for mercy. I’ll teach him not to steal from me.

“Go be with your husband, Lara,” I growl, turning away from her. “One of us deserves to be happy.”

“Please, Nikolai—” she starts, but I cut her off.

“Enough,” I tell her steadily. “I’m going after Eden, and nothing will stop me.”

Before she can say another word, I storm out of the garage, my chest beating like a war drum. Pavel has arrived and speaks to Rurik, casting cautious glances at me as he does so. Rurik’s stance straightens when he sees the automatics I carry in my arms. He hurries toward me, but Larissa shouts at him to stay away from me.

“Pavel, drive.” I stop long enough to look for Zakhar. Shocked and worried faces stare back at me as I scan the wide-open yard for one face. Zakhar isn’t around. Maybe he’s smart enough to hide again. Good. Because I don’t know what I would do to him right now.

I slide into the driver’s seat of the SUV, and I race the engine, smirking savagely as it roars to life. The mad rage within mespreads like a predatory beast eager for the hunt. My grip tightens around the steering wheel as I back away from the house. I watch a tearful Larissa hold onto Rurik’s arm, and a moment of guilt tries to stop me, but I smash it down.

Matvei chose his own path. He wasn’t going to die of old age.

Pavel hesitates, and then the words rush out. “Just the two of us?” His hands rest on his knees, gripping them tight.

“You think it’s a bad idea too?” I ask harshly.

He pauses. “It could be better.”

“Either Sorokin gives Eden back willingly, or I’ll kill him to get her back,” I promise him. “Fuck the cost.”

Pavel nods but remains silent as the SUV weaves in and out of traffic along the Long Island Expressway, heading toward the Thruway. He sits solemnly, awaiting imminent destruction as I charge forward to victory.

“Come hell or high water, I will bring you back, Eden,” I vow silently, my eyes fixed on the road ahead. “And if Sorokin stands in my way, he’ll pay the ultimate price.”

With that thought burning like a beacon in my mind, I speed toward Sorokin’s estate, each mile bringing me closer to my love—and the confrontation that awaits us both.

44

EDEN

I’m ledthrough the hallways of Sorokin’s mansion by his elderly butler. I’ve discovered his home isn’t an actual castle made of blocks of carved stone piled sky-high. Only the exterior mimics an ancient stone structure pictured in a history book. The modern interior is constructed of plaster walls and wood floors to look old. But nonetheless, the enormous interior is a maze of rooms and difficult to navigate without help.

I brace myself for whatever waits behind the large double doors we’re quickly approaching. The doors open to reveal a surprisingly cheerful conservatory, and I hear laughter before I see Sorokin’s guests. The man himself is nowhere in sight, and my shoulders relax. Natasha Chuikov smiles when she spots me and stands, revealing her sleek figure in a navy suit tailored like a man’s.

I nod at her, but my gaze goes straight to the woman sitting beside her, who turns to look at me.

“Eden Zakharovna Budanov,” Natasha introduces us in a direct manner. “This is Paige Geraldovna Barinov.”

Paige Barinov.It takes me a second before the name clicks in my head.She’s the wife of Andrei Barinov. We hid in her inn before we were attacked.

Suddenly, I’m giddy like I’m meeting a pop star and don’t know what to do with my hands. Her presence is completely unexpected, but her warm smile calms my jumpy nerves instantly.

“Hello, Eden,” Paige greets me, extending her hand. “You must be surprised to see us here.”

Surprised doesn’t even begin to describe it, but I take her hand and manage a weak smile. “Pleasure to meet you, Paige Geraldovna.”

“Please, Paige is fine.” She beams when she smiles. “There’s no need for patronymics when it’s just us.”

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