Page 72 of Lord of the Underworld

"Twelve months of knowing you better," I say, full of happiness and champagne. "Twelve months of loving you more." Vadim goes completely still, watching me.

"Seven, six, five…" everyone shouts.

"I love you," I say clearly, so that even with the noise and furor of the countdown, he can hear me. "I love you so much. I think I have loved you since the day you saved me." I laugh giddily, joy bubbling up in me, "Well, the first time you saved me."

"Four, three, two, one…"

Dimly, I can hear the muffled boom of fireworks exploding over the city, the calls of "Happy New Year!" from neighbors stepping out their doors to shout it into the night.

Vadim lifts me, my feet dangling and he kisses me with all the devotion he has always shown me. I kiss him back, teary and grateful that the worst moments of my life miraculously ushered in the best, fourteen years later.

"Happy New Year, my sweetheart," I say.

"And to you, moya lyubov'," he says, kissing me as the party goes on around us, until there's nothing but light and sound, and his lips on mine.

It was after the party and driving back to spend the night at Andrey and Iris's place, when I finally realize what the oddly unpleasant John Stevens' accent was. It was Greek.

Chapter Thirty-Two

In which things are scary and sad but at least there is a cute baby.

Vadim…

When Oksana tells me about her encounter with the man with the Greek accent, the expression on my face makes her flinch.

My wife has never appeared to be afraid of me, but this time I didn't hide my rage well enough. Pulling her onto my lap immediately, I wrap my arms around her, sitting quietly for a minute until I can get my fury under control.

"You did nothing wrong," I say, holding her slightly tighter than is probably comfortable. Something inside me feels desperate to keep her close. As if she can be pulled away from me if I don't. Having my arms around her also prevents me from stabbing her bodyguards. Marlen reported the exchange at the party to me, but nothing about a Greek accent or the menace Oksana felt.

She has never learned to hide her emotions, at least from me. Her responses are always clear, because her beautiful face is so expressive. They should have known. They should have seen it. Knowing that she will be unhappy if I slaughter her bodyguards, I force myself to look less murderous.

"I should have placed his accent there, at the party," she says, pushing her hair back angrily. "He was right there. He wanted me to know who he was, to guess, at least." Taking a shaky breath, she says, "They know I'm the one of the women they're hunting, don't they?"

Blind fury rages through my bloodstream, and it takes me a minute to answer. She's staring at me anxiously, and I owe her the truth. "The Black Kynigós will have narrowed down the list to a few names by now."

"Yvette!" She tries to jump up and I tighten my hold. "I have to call her."

"Take a moment," I rub her back. "Let's talk first. I know she's safe. I checked out her security myself, they're very good."

"Vadim, I can't stop thinking about these families," she says, slumping against me. "When everything fell apart, Yvette was talking to a couple of other women who were asking for help. One of them is pregnant. How can we stop?"

No woman or child deserves to suffer. But Oksana's safety is the only thing that matters to me.

I know telling her this will not be comforting.

"You've put your life on the line twenty times or more," I remind her. "Those women and their families have gone on to live long, happy lives. Can that be enough?"

"You remember what this felt like," she says flatly, looking me in the eye. "Beaten and tortured. Every day. You were so sure your family was coming for you that you made me believe it. These women don't have anyone coming for them."

If this fight were just ours, I would devote the rest of my life to slaughtering the pathetic fucks who would beat their own. It's not. As the Vor of the Turgenev Bratva, everything I do reflects on my family as well. As strong as we are, even with our allies, we can't take on the entire crime world, though the thought enrages me.

"Just after Christmas, Yvette and I talked about maybe finding a new team and backing them, financially at least. We could pay for everything, work behind the scenes." Oksana's face creases in grief. "But I'd still be sending out someone else to risk their lives while I kept safe."

"I won't tell you that everything will continue on like before," I say. "It can't. If the Black Kynigós have narrowed their search, you and Yvette are exposed. If you two are taken, they would torture you for every scrap of information you have. Everyone else involved would be taken, too. Those families would be found."

"We don't even know where they are now!" she protests.

"The hunters found you." The words come out flat, and uncompromising. "With enough clues, they'll find them."