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All I remembered was the sensation of strong arms lifting me and the sound of a rough voice calling my name.
Chapter
Twenty-Two
“Every man is guilty of all the good he did not do.”
? Voltaire
Volk
I took another drag from my cigarette, letting the smoke drift out as I slouched on the velvety sofa as the crackling flames of the fireplace warmed my face.
I enjoyed the smoke swirling in my lungs before letting it out in lazy circles.
Satisfaction surged through me—I was on the brink of capturing Vlad and handing his head over to Igor, finally.
I was determined to live up to my name, like a wolf ready to take down anyone who crossed my path—just like the one who trained me to survive in this ruthless world. I owed Igor everything. He saved my life and gave me everything I’d ever wanted: money, power, and women. Now, nothing seemed out of reach.
Feeling like a king surveying his kingdom, I got up from the sofa, searching the room for the missing piece to complete the puzzle. But despite my success, a nagging emptiness lingered.
Today, guilt crept up on me. It was a weird, unfamiliar feeling, coursing through me and knotting in my throat, making my head spin.
No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t shake it off.
My palms grew sweaty, and I muttered curses as I threw my cigarette into the fire.
Guilt? No fucking way.
I didn’t owe her shit. I was just doing my job, and I did it well.
What annoyed me was that Igor had only shown me the tip of the iceberg.
I hated carrying secrets—how they could ruin lives, reputations, and dreams. I hated how they revealed who people really are. They say we should keep our deepest secrets to ourselves, and I totally agree.
Learning about Igor’s secrets pissed me off.
For the first time in years, I found myself questioning his ultimate goal and what his next move would be. I hadn’t mentioned my visit to Tanya or her confessions— who Helena really was, what went down between Vlad and Tanya, and why Sofiya held the missing pieces.
It had only been ten days since she arrived, and she’s already messed up my whole fucking life. And I hated her for it.
The attraction between us grew stronger with every breath she took near me, every glance she threw my way, and every word she said with those full, rosy lips I couldn’t stop fantasizing about. The thought of them on me again had been tormenting me for days.
Sometimes, when I looked at her from a distance, I’d see her wandering the garden, humming sad tunes. She’d spend hours reading in that room, leaving her lingering scent even after she was gone.
Occasionally, I’d catch snippets of her complaints to Dasha about needing more clothes, food, shampoo, or fewer chores.
But every night, when she thought everyone was asleep, I’d hear her cries echoing through the silent night. On multiple occasions, I had to fight the urge to go check on her.
With a sigh, I got up and headed to my room, leaving the library behind. I tossed my jacket and shirt on the floor and noticed that the wound on my side was bleeding again through the bandage. Frustration bubbled up as I cursed Tanya for shooting me.
Longing for a hot shower, I quickly stripped off my pants and boxers and made my way to the bathroom.
In the dim moonlight filtering through the windows, I turned the faucet to the coldest setting. The icy water poured over me, numbing my skin and easing my tension. Each drop seemed to fight the darkness in my mind. The memory of Sofiya’s eyes, wide with fear and sadness, came rushing back, forming a lump in my throat. Those eyes sliced through me like a knife, the pain and sorrow cutting deep into my soul.
When she saw her mama, her shoulders sank like the weight of the world had settled on her, and I felt a desperate urge to protect her from the pain.
But you’re the reason she’s in pain, asshole.
