Page 81 of Captive

The Federov family would never fall to the tyranny of the Petrovs. Now it was time to finish the hunt for my brother and I knew exactly how that was going to occur. While I’d seen no sign of Michail, my instincts told me everything I needed to know.

The information Viktor had provided weighed heavily on my mind.

As Ivan approached, I lowered my weapon, still searching the darkness for any sign of survivors.

“You are your father, Sacha, a true warrior.”

A warrior.

Maxim had been dead set on ensuring that I’d be ready for battle no matter the circumstances. Perhaps his harsh discipline and required training had been necessary after all. Blood had rained in the streets of Moscow, yet no innocent lives had been lost. I’d made certain of that fact. My decisions had sent Sergei Petrov a final message.

Get the fuck out.

Laughing softly, I tipped my head in his direction. “My name is Nikolai Lenkov. Sacha no longer exists. However, let it be known that anyone who crosses the Federov Empire will meet their maker.” As I started to walk away, Ivan cleared his throat.

“Where are you going?”

I stopped short, thinking about how to respond. “I’m paying my respects.”

He gave me a wry smile. “Understood.”

“Then I’m going to return to my life.”

“This is your life, Sacha, the one your father created.”

Shooting him a look over my shoulder, I took a deep breath. “Not any longer.” I stared at him, giving him a slight smile. “It’s interesting, Ivan. I lost everything I’d cared about in a matter of a few weeks, forced to find another place that I hoped I could eventually call home. However, I did come to the realization that I’d been lucky to have a friend like you, a man determined to help me stay alive.”

“That was important to me, Sacha. I mean, Nikolai. That was something your father would have wanted.”

“Perhaps.”

I walked off into the darkness, the gun still in my hand. I was finished with betrayal.

* * *

Rain.

I’d always loved rainfall, the silent drops falling slowly to the earth creating a serene environment. However, the dark and tumultuous clouds that had formed overhead indicated a severe storm approaching. Even the wind was whipping across my face as I headed up the grassy knoll. When I reached the top, I took a deep breath, staring off in the distance for a full minute. This was a place of reverence, a quiet time meant to reflect.

As thunder rolled in the distance, I was reminded that this would be the last time I’d set foot on such hallowed ground. Thelocation was devoid of other mourners and I’d never felt so alone in my entire life. While it had been years since I’d visited the final resting place of my father, his gravestone wasn’t difficult to find. Sadly, a combination of graffiti splashed across the thick stone as well as dead flowers adorning the ground beneath were yet another reminder that my father had been as hated as adored.

I wasn’t a religious man, had never accepted faith as a healing concept. But today I gave the sign of the cross in my honor to the fallen man. He’d provided me with a home as well as a good life, at least as much as he’d known how to provide.

When I knelt down, it was the closest I’d felt to him since his death. A single shiver shifted down my spine. I could almost feel his presence. After pushing aside the withered flowers, I placed the single blood-red rose in the center, touching the petals. No words came to my mind, no statement that seemed appropriate. I’d attempted to exact my revenge, yet I’d failed.

I closed my eyes, allowing the moment of reverence to continue. Then a single sound erupted my few minutes of peace.

However, it was one I’d been planning on.

After taking a deep breath, I rose to my feet, turning around slowly. It had been years since I’d seen Sergei Petrov, the last meeting he’d had with my father almost ending in violence. The smirk on his face indicated he truly believed he’d won the war. To him, losing dozens of his soldiers meant nothing. All human life was expendable.

I wasn’t surprised to see Michail by his side. I folded my hands in front of me, shifting my gaze from my brother into Sergei’s eyes. The years hadn’t been good to the older man, the wars he’dcontinued to fight aging him significantly. Yet he stood with a wry smile on his face, as if he’d beaten me.

As if he was ready to end my life.

The silence and tension between us were palpable, but I refused to offer the first comment.

“Ty ochen’ pokhozh na svoyego ottsa,” Sergei finally said, laughing after stating the words.