A few short, barked orders let me know at least some of the people involved in my abduction weren’t going to make it through the night. Good. The news made me stand taller as the big man continued to tug me along at a brisk pace, almost panicked to get out.
I looked him over, noting his glossy, dark hair falling over a brow that could have graced an ancient coin. Green eyes searched the path ahead of him as he pulled me along. His immaculate suit fit him perfectly, accentuating broad shoulders and a trim waist. The scowl on his chiseled face was like gathering storm clouds, but it didn’t mar the fact that he was incredibly handsome. A true, avenging angel.
Somehow, the paunchy old man loomed in front of us, blocking the path out of the front door.
“You won’t get away with this, Gavril,” he hissed.
The old man pulled himself to his full height, still a half a foot shorter than—wait. Gavril? I knew that name. A coincidence? Gavril, my rescuer, shoved him hard with the heel of his hand, sending the fat asshole skidding across the polished parquet floor.
We continued, so fast I was almost running, off balance with my hands cuffed behind me, but Gavril kept a firm grip on my arm, helping me along.
“Watch your back, Bocharov,” echoed from the house.
Gavril Bocharov. Of course, I knew that name. Not a coincidence at all. He was the leader of the Collective, our worst enemy. He was responsible for kidnapping Paisley, Dan’s soon-to-be wife. He was definitely not on my side and absolutely no angel. This wasn’t a rescue. I was merely being transferred from the proverbial frying pan and into the fire.
All the strength drained out of me, and I crumpled. With a muttered oath, he barely broke his stride and scooped me into his arms. A moment later, he tossed me into the backseat of a car, and he raced away from the mansion. Better than the trunk, but not much. I barely kept it together as he drove in silence, finally pulling into another long, winding driveway and parking in front of a secluded mansion. It was surely gorgeous and stately, but in my state of mind, it looked like a looming, white horror house.
Pulling me back out, he seemed to notice I was handcuffed for the first time. Looking supremely pissed off, he muttered more curses as he ordered one of his nearby security staff to bring him a spare key. As soon as they were off, he swore some more at the sight of my red wrists, then he picked me up and brought me into the house. As soon as my feet hit the shining marble floor in the entry hall, I lost it.
There was no more hanging onto dignity. My courage, what little there was, had run dry. Full-on panic overwhelmed me, tears poured, guttural cries ripped from my throat. I curled up in a heap on the floor, struggling to breathe. I hadn’t had a panic attack like this in years, and while it was warranted, I still hated every minute of the torture my body was going through.
A cool hand settled on my shoulder. “Stop,” Gavril said, firm and brusque, but surprisingly calming. “You’re safe, Lilia. No one’s going to hurt you.”
I actually stopped hyperventilating. He kept the gentle pressure on my shoulder, repeating that I was okay now until the trembling stopped. The tears stopped. I was quiet at last, but still completely spent and weakened.
Very gently, he picked me up and carried me up a white, curving stairway, carpeted in deep red. Down a hallway, he deposited me in a luxuriously furnished room, not at all a dungeon.
“I’ll have someone bring you some food,” he said, in the same firm but calming voice.
Then he just left me alone, the one thing I needed more than anything else. I was at my limit and sank onto the bed, the cool silk coverlet smooth against my cheek. I took several deep breaths, holding them and letting them out until I was centered.
Except now that I was no longer panicked, fury stepped in. Aimed squarely at myself. Why didn’t I let Masha teach me self-defense all those times she offered? Why didn’t I join the shooting lessons and carry my own gun like everyone else in my family? Why did I always choose to have my head in a book, pretending real life didn’t exist?
Because of that, I was finding out that it did exist, and it wasn’t just as awful as I secretly feared. It was worse.
Chapter 6 - Gavril
I stared at the door for a long moment after I locked Lilia in, listening for another imminent freak out. She was quiet, and I stepped away, sensing she needed time alone to regroup.
What the hell came over me at that auction? Now I had a scared mouse who belonged to the enemy camp to contend with, and I had to order the execution of the men involved with her kidnapping. It was unreal that they had been able to get away with such a feat under my nose. It had to be long in the making, well planned over a period of time.
That meant that things were worse than I realized, and I knew things were rotten from the moment I stepped off the plane in Los Angeles. Never starry-eyed about how difficult it would be to clean up this dirty branch of the Collective, I was still optimistic I could whip them into shape.
Didn’t seem like it now. Luigi was only alive because I needed him scared enough of saving his own hide to keep his men in line. Once I rooted them out and either got them on my side or disposed of them, he could go. There was nothing I would have loved more than to hold his fat head under the sparkling water of his pool and let him drown. After what he put the youngest member of the Petrov family through, I was ready to pull him apart piece by piece.
Lilia. Her beauty stunned me. The terror in her luminous blue eyes ripped at my guts, bringing on a rage as strong as if I had to defend my own life. There was something that radiated from her that made an unprecedented urge to protect well up in me. As an only child, I had no siblings I ever needed to fight for, and there was nothing even slightly brotherly in what I felt when I stormed that stage.
It was unexplainable, wild, and dark. I would have killed every last man if I had to, and still would if they tried to stand in my way. It was unreasonable, foolish, and could threaten everything I worked for to keep her. And yet, I wasn’t giving her back.
Of all the people to mess with to inflame an already fiery enemy, my idiots had to choose the most innocent of all of them. I had intel on all the Petrovs, and each and every member had documents on them you could scroll through for hours. Lilia’s dossier didn’t take up a single page.
A picture, her age, and what she did for a living. Online editing, for God’s sake, and for a completely clean publishing company. She was as pure as the driven snow, and if I’d been ten minutes later, she’d be in the hands of one of those billionaire freaks.
Fuck, that reminded me I’d need to reimburse the ones I wanted to maintain alliances with. It would have been nice to consign them all to a painful demise, but money was money, and I could make a lot more keeping them sweet. I had plenty of enemies, including Luigi, my own damn second in command.
I wired him a cool million with a note that said payment for delivery of merchandise. That would piss him off because he stood to make ten to a hundred times more than that from the hungry jackals, but also soothe his ego enough to keep him from doing something truly stupid in his enraged state. I understood things like diplomacy as well as bringing down the hammer.
Despite making these allowances, I was well aware that there could still be backlash from some of them for taking away their sick fun.
