Adrik questioned, “Anything else?”
The words caught in her throat, and she shook her head and left him.
Chapter fifteen
Caught
Levkaworeblack,blendingas much as possible into the night. He had left his phone behind on the journey to Luerna. He couldn’t risk his father checking to see where he snuck off to. It was bad enough that Ivan was getting suspicious about his actions. He couldn’t have his father find out he was once again causing trouble with the Morozov line.
The stars were bright, but there was no moon. He was thankful it coincided with Rurik taking the night out to go visit his whore in the city. This was a risk, Levka knew. He was entering enemy territory blindly. But it’s been seven days since Levka saw Luerna, and it was eating away at him.
He could sense her hesitation with every phone call and text message. It was only logical that she would be afraid. He was trying to get her to betray a family she dedicated her life to. He was asking her to leave behind every comfort. He wanted her to take up her kids and disappear into the night.
It was too much.
That’s why it was becoming more apparent that running away wasn’t possible.
Killing Rurik however, was.
He wanted her approval first. Killing the father of her children would be a hard pill to swallow. And then, of course, there were the kids. If he could marry Luerna, he’d look those kids in the eye daily, knowing what he’d done. Would they find out that he was their father’s murderer? Would they hate him?
Oh, these thoughts were no good. There was no way for Luerna to get the happy ending she deserved.
There would be one way,Levka acknowledged. He would kill Rurik and then disappear. She wasn’t in love with him, not yet, and perhaps down the line, she’d find someone, and eventually, she’d be happy.
But that wasn’t possible for Levka. He was either with her or dead.
Standing at the bottom of a hill, Levka could see the Morozov estate in the distance. It was a mile away, and the walls were aglow. There would be cameras all about and footmen manning the walls. But he would go unseen. The small shack was in the middle of a grazing field, hidden by trees. Underneath moldy hay barrels and broken farm equipment, was a trap door. It was rusted in several areas and took all his strength to lift. With a small flashlight, he jumped down into the hole.
The walls dripped with mildew. It smelt like sewage, but he could stand straight, and there was enough room for another person to walk beside him. It was a great escape tunnel built back in the 1800s. Her great-grandfather had royal blood, was a bastard child of Alexander, who was a czar of Russia. It’s said that Alexander himself built the mansion for his mistress.
Levka could feel the incline, it was slow but gradual. It took only twenty minutes, and he knew he was getting close. The tunnel was now made of brick, and the smell faded. He stepped into a massive dungeon as his flashlight zoomed across the place. There were rusted bars for prison cells. A thick slap of wood in the center of the room with old chains draping from the corners- an ancient torture device, no doubt still used today. It wasn’t what he was hoping to find. But he kept moving, guessing the direction, going through a hallway on the right. There were unknown noises, but ghosts weren’t in his belief system, so he created an excuse for every chill that climbed up his spine.
Drafts,he kept repeating.
Finally, some light came up ahead, and Levka moved for it. Luerna knew he was coming. He had sent her a text just before he left. He didn’t wait for a reply to tell him ‘don’t’ or ‘I’m not worth it’ or ‘it’s too risky.’ He had to see her only to remind her why she was trying to leave.
The door opened ahead. A smile stretched on his lips. Luerna said it would be easy, and he’d go undetected. It was a weakness in their security, and if he wasn’t taking advantage of it, he’d tell her to get it fixed.
His smile fell.
Rurik stood in the doorway, staring down at him. A pistol was at his side, and a smirk on his hairy face.
Levka dropped the light and ran into the darkness. He kept quiet, trying to keep his breath from making any sound. He wasn’t panicked. Not yet. There were dozens of ways to get lost until they gave up their search, but Rurik knew this dungeon. He’d know all the places to hide.
Levka felt along the walls, but he wasn’t completely blind. Rurik’s guards were coming with lights on the tips of their gun barrels. He dived into a hole in the wall, and the darkness encased him like an invisibility cloak, but it wasn’t enough. He had to keep moving and out of their lights’ scope. There was no time to think if Luerna betrayed him or if Rurik just got lucky. But it was becoming evident, wasn’t it? Rurik had been ready for him.
Levka raced blindly through a hall. His hand kept to the wall. He tried to map the world in his head, but it was too dark, and he was unsure he was going in the right direction. The exit was on the north side, but he took too many turns.
A light focused on him, blinding him. “Don’t move!” They screamed.
Levak panted. He could go on for another hour, but it was pointless. He raised his hands as they approached. The butt of a gun smashed into his face, and he fell to the floor. They didn’t let him recover, slamming a foot into his ribs and a baton on his back. The pain was like bright bursts of fireworks ripping through his skin, claiming all thoughts and devouring his nervous system. He struggled to breathe through the agony. Blood built in his mouth and dripped from his open lips as he was pulled to his feet. He couldn’t stand, and they kept each arm, dragging his legs behind him.
Levka groaned when he hit the chair. His arms were pinned behind him with a zip tie. His head hung, too tired to try to raise it. The light from above told him he was in their interrogation room. Every mafia family had a fucking interrogation room. It was always cold, always made of stone, with a single spotlight hanging. He cursed his own culture.
Rurik was in front of him, smoking a cigar. He had tape around his knuckles. It would allow him to beat Levka without ruining his hands. Can’t show up at business meetings with scabbed knuckles.
“She told me if that’s what you want to know.”
