He nodded. “No need.”
“You can go back outside. My father and his men will be here shortly, and I’d like you to meet them at the front entrance and explain the situation to them. Let them know you have recorded proof of Ivan’s betrayals.” My gaze was firmly on Ivan, whose blood was dripping between his fingers as he clutched his injured hand to his chest.
Decatur nodded and left the room again.
“No right-hand man, and no right hand,” I taunted.
“How long? How long has he been in your pocket?” Ivan spit out the question, his eyes wild with unchecked anger.
“Decatur was our trusted soldier before he became your bodyguard. Or did that fact slip your mind after all these years?” I gave him a half-cocked smile, tilting my head and showing him how very stupid I thought he was.
“So, I have always had a snake in my garden. I should not be surprised, given how you Vasilievs operate. Never trusting, never completely honest.”
“We are not honest, Ivan?” I shook my head, smile fading. “You who has acted like my father’s most ardent servant for decades, yet has been working against his interests at every turn? The word honest should burn your lips when you speak it.” I growled the last, letting my anger bubble again just at the surface, ready to serve my actions.
“So, this is how it ends, is it? With a bullet to the heart. My whore wife in your bed and my bodyguard on your payroll.” He spat at the ground by his feet. “Let’s settle this like real men.”
He came slowly from around his desk, away from his gun, and I raised an eyebrow at him. He was braver and stupider than I’d first thought. He nodded towards the gun in my hand.
“Hand to hand. No guns.” He stood in front of his desk and when realizing that I’d made no move to put my gun away he glared at me. “Did you see the bruises on her face, Alexander? Did you see what I did to the little whore?” he chuckled and stepped closer. “The things I made her do in the bedroom though… that was where the real punishment was to be had.”
Rage as red and as vibrant as lava burned through my veins. My jaw clenched so tightly I was surprised my teeth hadn’t cracked.
“Oh, how she called out in pain. Her tears and torment like an aphrodisiac to me,” he laughed again, his blood dripping on to the carpet as he walked slowly towards me. “I brutalized her body. Over and over…”
I was gone.
I threw my gun to one side and charged him, ready to tear him piece by piece, regardless of what information he had. The anger was vibrant in my veins and it consumed me. Every part of me from head to toe, from bone to muscle, as I slammed into him and we fell to the floor in a mass of limbs and violence.
I was going to kill him with my bare hands.
Chapter Twenty-two
Marisha
Bang!
The bullet might as well have flown through the house, through walls, and struck me in the heart. It caused unimaginable pain to me.
Someone had fired a gun.
I couldn’t take it anymore. I couldn’t stay safe in this room while Alexander was out there with Ivan, fighting to save me.
Alex didn’t know the level of violence Ivan held inside his body, just waiting to explode like a geyser when the time was right… or the time was wrong… or anything at all inconvenienced him. God, he’d hurt me so many times. He’d been brutal, leaving me raw and bleeding and sobbing against the plush carpet of our bedroom.
My wounds never seemed to close up, never seemed to fully heal, before he was back at my body like a wild animal hungry for bone marrow.
Alex was so strong, so confident, but how could he be a match for someone so twisted and evil? My Alex was kind and protective. When he held me it was like all the world fell away and only he existed. If he was going to die at the hands of my sadistic husband, then I wanted to die right alongside him.
So, I couldn’t stay safe here now.
Besides, no matter what, my death would come once Ivan killed Alex. And I knew how it would be.
Slow. Painful. I’d beg for mercy in the end. Not that it would make any difference. Ivan didn’t believe in mercy.
Decision made, I pulled the heavy chair from beneath the knob and yanked the door open. Mother’s pin was still in my hand, biting into my flesh. A reminder to keep going, keep fighting, I was still alive. At least for now.
As I moved, I pinned it to my blouse, the bird’s one eye blinking at the path ahead. If it were alive, if it had a voice, I knew it would be shrieking at me. Jarring singing that warned me to go back, go back before it was too late.
