approaching the front door cautiously. He takes a step back, then shoots his foot forward, kicking the door open. The four of us pour into the house.
I can’t help myself. “Victoria!” I shout, swinging my gun around, breathing hard. She’s in here. I can smell the faint perfume she wears, lingering in the dark, damp hallways like a ghost.
I hope to God I’m not too late.
Down the hall, I see a shape step into view. It takes my eyes a moment to adjust to the darkness, but I immediately recognize them. Brahim has Victoria in his grasp, a gun to her forehead. He shakes like a man just on the brink of insanity, his face slick with blood and his eyes wild with rage.
“Get the fuck back!” he hisses, stepping towards us. We take a few steps back, watching as he moves around us into the living room. I glance behind him at the back door I know he’s trying to get to.
“I knew you would come,” Brahim says, laughing harshly. “I knew you would come because you love her. She doesn’t think you do, but I know the truth. And now that you’re here, I can make you watch as I take her from you the way your brother took Brianne from me.”
My confidence wavers. “What are you talking about?” I growl.
“Oh, you didn’t know?” He’s taking pleasure in this like the sick fuck he is. “Brianne and I were in love many years ago. Deeply in love. It wasn’t until she left me that I found out she was carrying my child.”
“Nikolas,” I murmur.
No.
No, this isn’t possible. Nikolas is my brother’s son and there’s nothing this bastard can say to change my mind. He looks just like Dmitry, even down to that laugh he has. He’s all the good parts of my brother.
“You’re lying,” I say, bringing my gun up so that it’s level with his head. “You’re full of shit.”
“He’s not,” Victoria gasps, struggling in his arms. “He told me everything. He thought you were the one that pushed Brianne into Dmitry’s arms. That’s why he took me. To make us all pay.”
“And now that we’re all here, I can do exactly that,” Brahim says, pushing the gun harder against Victoria’s forehead.
My thoughts are swirling. Nothing makes sense.
Rogers and Brahim.
Dmitry and Brianne.
Nikolas.
Victoria. Victoria. Victoria …
Names and faces flash by me in a whirlwind, all whispering things at me that I can’t quite understand.
Brahim growls and readjusts his grip on the gun. I can see the sweat beading on Victoria’s forehead. She looks terrified, and yet, also—somehow—strong. Stronger than I might have expected.
It takes everything I have not to rush forward and tackle him to the ground. My hands twitch at the thought of bashing his head in until I see bone. The marks around Victoria’s throat are evidence that he’s already put his hands on her once, and the sight of the bruises makes me want to cut those very hands from his fucking wrists.
“But I don’t love her,” I say.
“Yes, you do.”
I put my hands up, pointing the gun at the ceiling. “She’s the one that let you into the house. If anything, she should be punished for her stupidity. I could never love a woman so oblivious to the dangers of this world.”
Rogers seems caught off guard, and I can see just a hint of hurt in Victoria’s eyes. “You came all this way. You love her,” he insists.
“I came all this way because Nikolas wanted to give her his favorite toy to play with. He wanted her to play with it one last time.”
Her eyebrows knit together, and I stare at her hard, slowly reaching into my pocket. Rogers looks confused out of his mind, and I seize the chance to pull out Dmitry’s pocketknife. In one quick motion, I throw it at Victoria. She snatches it midair and flicks it open faster than Rogers can react.
He howls when she turns and stabs him in the side with the blade.
Roaring in pain, Rogers brings his gun down to aim at her, and at the same time, I fire off bullet after bullet into him. Victoria ducks out of the way, dropping to the floor as my men and I fill him with shots. He stumbles backwards from the force, grabbing the wall.
As he slides down, he draws lines of crimson down the flaking white paint.
Victoria throws herself into my arms and I pull her close, breathing in her scent. She’s been through hell, but