by Snow, Jenika
“If you’re going to be any man’s whore, Nadja, you’ll be mine.” He snarled the last part with so much venom I felt it coat my skin.
Maximillian wasn’t only sick in the head; he was dangerous, and I knew that no matter what, he wouldn’t give up until he got what he wanted.
“You have the bratva behind you,” I said, stalling, trying to think of how to get out of this with mine and Wilder's lives still intact.
His smirk grew. “The bratva,” he said low, as if the word were funny, as if he couldn't even conceive that they were a threat. He was a narcissist to the core. “They’ve turned their back on me. They are weak. I am strong. Once I finish them, I’ll lead those who follow, those who are loyal.” His teeth were stained with blood, making his expression all the more sinister. “And you’ll be by my side as I rule the underworld.” He tightened his hold on my hair. “They’ll find me eventually, exact their vengeance, because I took out the weakest links, the ones who didn’t have the spine and balls to do what needed to be done.” He leaned in close. “But at the end, I will rule. And you will be mine, even if you fight. In fact,” he said low, “I want you to fight.”
“Never,” I snarled. “I will never be yours. I’d rather die than be tied to you.” I spit, feeling disgust. “And the man I love will be the only one to do the slaughtering, Maximillian.”
He let out a horrendous laugh. “You’re mine, Nadja. Always. No matter what. I run in your veins. You know it. You feel it.”
I shook my head. “You’re delusional.” Although that wasn’t anything new. He was known as a savage in the underworld we live in, yet he was so up his own ass in thinking he was powerful that he thought he was untouchable.
He pulled me up, and I kicked out, hitting his shin hard enough he grunted. Dark satisfaction filled me that I caused him pain, even if it was a small amount, even if it wouldn’t help in the end. Maximillian took both my wrists, shoved my body against the wall, and thrust my arms above my head, holding me in place, making me immobile.
He lifted his free hand, and I watched as he curled it into a fist. I waited for the hit, the pain, the inevitable. But there was nothing. Just Maximillian leaning down so his face was so close to mine I smelled the blood on his lips.
“I’m going to let you watch me end his life, Nadja. Then, when you’re so broken you’re hanging on by a thread, I’m going to snap you in half until I’m the only thing you can hold onto in order to stay together.”
And as I stared into his dead, soulless eyes, I knew he meant that down to his very marrow.
29
Frankie
Getting the paperwork that would ensure Nadja and myself could safely get the fuck out of here, go far away until either things died down or I could come up with a plan to fix the situation, had taken too damn long.
I looked over at the passenger seat briefly and glanced at the manila envelope that held everything we’d need to get out of the country. That was one of the good things about being on the other side of the law. It was easy to acquire this kind of underground shit.
False passports, birth certificates, and any other legal documentation that would totally change our identities.
I tried texting Wilder when I was done and heading back. He hadn’t answered. I called him... still no answer. My nerves were nuclear at that point as I thought about an array of wrong shit that could have gone down and that’s why my twin wasn’t answering. I was probably overreacting.
Wilder would protect Nadja with his life, because he knew I loved her. And although him not answering his phone wasn’t unusual, he wouldn’t ghost me during this time. He knew how fucking insane I was for her and wouldn’t leave me hanging when it would only make me more frantic.
I squeezed my hands on the steering wheel, the leather creaking momentarily before I loosened my hold and breathed out slowly. I turned onto the street that would lead to the house, feeling even more anxious to see Nadja the closer I got to her.
I checked in with Wilder once while I’d been in the city, my protectiveness toward Nadja controlling me. I supposed having the love of your life taken from you and being without her for five years tended to make a normally rational man one possessive bastard.
If I could’ve tethered her to my side for the rest of my fucking life, that’s exactly what I would’ve done. It wasn’t rational or even sane, but hell, that was pretty damn realistic for me.
I’d been speeding the whole way home, trying to be mindful, because the last thing I needed was to get pulled over by the fucking cops.
Once at the gate, I quickly punched in the code. My anxiety was climbing by the second, this horrible feeling in the pit of my gut starting to make me sweat. The gate started to open, and thank fuck Wilder had fixed the damn thing.
I hauled ass up the driveway, the fear in the pit of my stomach becoming more prominent the closer I got to the house. Something was wrong. I knew it, felt it. And when I saw the front door partially open, I barely had the SUV thrown into park before I was getting out of the driver side and running toward the front door.
I had my gun out and ready and slowed as I neared the entrance. I stopped for a moment, willing my heart to become steady, and opened up all my other senses. I didn’t hear anything, not even the sound of the clock in the foyer ticking.
With my back pressed to the house, I pushed the door open with my foot, the gun raised and at the ready. Still nothing. No sound. No movement.
I entered the house, most of the lights off except for the one that came from the study down the hall. That wasn’t how it was when I felt, and my hackles rose even more. The golden glow seemed obscenely bright in the otherwise darkened house.
I checked first the kitchen then the living room before making my way toward the study, keeping my back to the wall. Once at the partially opened door, I stopped, just breathing in slowly and exhaling evenly. And then I turned and entered the room, immediately seeing Nadja sitting behind the desk, her wrists bound to the arms of the chair with duct tape, a thick piece of the silver tape covering her mouth. Her eyes were wide and red-rimmed, wetness on her cheeks because she was crying.
“Oh, baby,” I said low, my emotions clouding all rational thought.
My heart started beating double-time as I then saw Wilder on the floor, his position prone, his body motionless. The only saving grace was I could see he was breathing. He was still alive despite the blood that was pooled beside his head.
Nadja started murmuring frantically, the tape on her mouth making the words indistinguishable. She looked toward the other side of the door with just her eyes, this frantic look in the green depths. I held her stare as I slowly lifted the gun and pointed the barrel up, right where a skull would be.
She started murmuring again and struggling against the bounds. And right when I would’ve pulled the trigger and sent the bullet through the wood and splintering through the fucker’s brain, the door was pushed viciously against my body. I crashed to the side, my shoulder slamming against the wall, the gun getting knocked out of my hand.
All of this took place in a matter of seconds, and when I righted myself, it was just in time to see some big motherfucker charging at me.
I knew it was Maximillian, even though I didn’t know what the bastard looked like.
He crashed into me, my back slamming against the wall again, a picture that had been hanging falling to the ground. The sound of glass shattering couldn’t drown out the violence that swirled within me. I let that rage fester in me and finally explode.
I reared my arm back and slammed my fist against the side of his head, successfully causing him to grunt in pain, his step faltering backward momentarily from the sudden jar. That’s the only opening I needed. I was on him a second later. In one powerful move, I head-butted the fucker hard enough the sound of our skulls slamming against each other echoed in the room. The prick grunted and stumbled back once more.
He’d opened Pandora’s box, and I was letting the demons out to wreak ha
voc on him.
The violence was a living entity inside me. I felt his hits, knew there was pain associated with them, but all I could do was focus on taking him down. I hit him over and over again, the bastard big like me, muscular. He cursed and grunted, and we fell to the ground, grappling, sparring. He knew how to fight; I’d give him that. But what he didn’t have on his side, what strength he didn’t possess, was the desperation to protect the ones he loved.
I had that tenfold.
I got the upper hand, his body on the ground as I straddled him, as I laid my fists into the side of his face over and over again. The scent of blood filled my nose, the warm, viscous feeling of it covering my fists fueling me on.
“She’s not yours,” I roared but didn’t know if I said it out loud or it played on repeat in my head.
He flipped us before I could stop him. I was now the one on my back with his fists slamming into my skull, my sides. He wore this maniacal grin, roaring out in Russian.
“That’s where you’re wrong,” he then said in English. “Nadja will be mine. My wife. My property.”
He was dead before, but now I’d make him suffer. I felt strength climb even higher, slammed my fist into his side, into his kidney. He grunted, and that small window where he didn’t have the dominance was when I grabbed his head, dug my fingers into his eyes, and twisted him to the side. I flexed my arm and slammed his skull against the floor, heard the pleasurable crack of bone meeting wood, and then there was nothing,
Silence.
Stillness.
I didn’t move for long moments, just inhaling deeply, feeling my center align once more. I stood and moved backward and instantly snapped my head in Nadja’s direction. I was by her a second later, taking the tape off her mouth as gently as possible, then repeating the action with her wrists. When she was unbound, I pulled her out of the chair and just held her, keeping her body close to mine.
“Frankie,” she whispered, and I tightened my grip around her body.
“There is only you,” I said over and over again, overcome with the situation, with the very thought she could have been taken from me again, hurt. “There will only always be you, Nadja.”
I felt her tremble, smelled the saltiness of her tears. “Always you.” She held me tighter, and although I wanted to stay in this moment and comfort her, I had to end this.
I didn’t want to let her go, but she pulled back and looked in my face. “Is Wilder okay?”
I closed my eyes and exhaled. I didn’t know how hurt he was, but he was alive, and I was so fucking thankful for that. I kissed her on the lips gently then turned and made my way over to my brother. I crouched where Wilder was and checked his pulse. It beat strong and steady, and I exhaled in relief. “Come on, brother,” I said deeply, and a moment later, I could see him start to rouse, hear the groan spill from him, and a breath of relief left me again.
“Fuck,” he grumbled as he rolled onto his back and touched the side of his head. “Please tell me you got that motherfucker.”
“Yeah, brother.” I helped him to stand then moved him over to the desk so he could sit on it, catch his bearings. “You good?”
He nodded. “Is Nadja okay? The fucker came at me full force. I got him a few times….” he trailed off, and I could hear the self-anger in my brother’s voice. He thought he let me and my woman down.
“All’s good, Wilder. She’s safe. She’s whole.”
I glanced at Nadja then, the fear on her face still there, and I hated it. I went to her instantly and wrapped my arms around her small frame, keeping her close, cocooning her body with mine. “I love you,” I whispered against her hair.
She tightened her hold on my waist and said, “I love you too.”
I looked down at where Maximillian lay, his unconscious body soon to be unrecognizable once I got done with him. He was still alive, but he wouldn’t be for long. Death was the only outcome for the motherfucker who tried to take Nadja from me.
“What’s going to happen to him?” she whispered against my chest.
I could hear in her voice she was afraid of my answer.
She slowly lifted her head from my chest, and I stared into her eyes before leaning down and kissing the center of her forehead. I felt rage and violence swirl within me and wanted to shield her from it… from myself.
But I wouldn't lie to her either.
“I’m going to make sure he never hurts you again, Nadja.” I tightened my arms on her once more. “Never again.”
30
Frankie
I’d never thought of myself as a violent man, never wanted to hurt someone as vengeance, not anyone aside from my father.
But the rage I felt right now as I stared at Maximillian chained to the rafters, as I knew what he wanted with my woman, how he’d defile her, how he wanted to hurt her and make her submit, had this white-hot rage filling me.
I’d never wanted to spill so much blood than I did right now.
And I would.
I’d spill so much of his fucking blood it ran like a river under my feet.
I felt Wilder, Dom, and Cullen all standing behind me. I knew they were waiting for me to make the next move, to make the next call. Or maybe they’d just watch me, let me handle this like I wanted to so fucking badly.
“The things I wanted to do to that sweet little Nadja,” Maximillian said and laughed, blood spilling out of his mouth. I beat the shit out of him, his skin black and blue, cuts on his face. I wanted to kill him right on the spot, but I also wanted to prolong this, the sadistic side of me wanting vengeance for Nadja.
I took a step closer and felt a smile spread across my face. It wasn't one of happiness, not one of amusement. It was one of satisfaction that Maximillian could talk shit all he wanted, because when this was all said and done, he would be six feet under the ground.
“You can talk all you want, even imagine the things you’ll never get to do with her, but know this,” I said low, deadly, and stepped up to him so our chests almost touched. “She’s mine. She always has been.” Maximillian bared his teeth, and I chuckled. “Strung up like a fucking fish about to get gutted.” I took a step back and eyed him. “No one to come to your aid, the organization you associated with turning their back on you.”
I turned and walked over to the crate I brought in when we came to this rundown piece of shit building. Leave it to Cullen to know where I could get my hands dirty without anyone bothering us. I grabbed a hammer, eyed it, then tossed it back in before grabbing the rusty hacksaw. I faced Maximillian again. “Looks like it’s just you and me who want to have the fun.”
Max struggled in his bounds, and I had to give the bastard credit. He was one strong motherfucker for not having passed out yet. “I want to make you suffer,” I murmured and stepped up to him, looking at the saw and turning it over in my hand so the dirty blade caught the light. “But I also need to make this quick so I can get back to my woman, so I can hold her and tell her she’s safe, that a psychopath will never have to cross her mind again, because I hacked his fucking body up into little pieces and scattered him in the middle of nowhere.”
Maximillian started laughing, the sound garbled by the blood in his mouth. “She’ll always have me in her mind.”
I snorted, but it held no amusement. “You might have consumed her thoughts, but it was for a short period of her life.” I placed the edge of the blade on his chest, not adding pressure, just letting him feel the weight of it. “But I’ll give her so many memories to replace the ones of you that you’ll soon become nothing.”
“You want us out? Or to help end this fucker?” Wilder asked from behind me, and I looked over my shoulder.
“It’s gonna get messy, and I want to do this on my own. I need to.”
All three of my brothers nodded and turned to leave. Although they would have stayed, helped me cut this motherfucker up if I asked, I really did need to end this myself, not just for me, but for Nadja as well. This piece of shit put the fear of God in her for
far too long. Now it was my turn to do the same to him.
When we were alone, I grinned, feeling a rush of adrenaline fill me. This was going to be back-alley fighting style, dirty and raw, just the way I fucking liked it.
“I’d tell you to say a little prayer, motherfucker, but the only god you probably believe in is yourself.” I added some pressure with the saw to his chest and felt pleasure when he hissed out in pain. He was a resilient fucker though, keeping his eyes locked on mine and refusing to cry out or beg for me to stop.
He would though.
I let the saw drop to the floor, wanting to get real right now. And so I just let loose. I slammed my fist into his gut then into his side, using him like my own personal punching bag. A left hook. A right one. An undercut to his jaw so hard his head snapped back and blood sprayed from his lips. He did howl then, and I grinned.
I landed blow after blow into the fucker’s face and body until he finally sagged against his bounds as he passed out.
I stepped back and stared at him. Blood was everywhere, covering the floor, my knuckles and arms, even sprayed on my chest. Maximillian looked like a piece of raw meat just hanging there.
Turning and grabbing the bucket of water Wilder brought in when we first showed up, water collected from the canal right behind the building, I doused Maximillian in it. He sputtered to consciousness, and I tossed the bucket aside, the metal clanging against the cement ground.
And then I was back to beating the shit out of him. It didn’t seem like enough, didn’t tame the beast in me or control my bloodlust. But I didn't stop. I couldn't.
I don’t know how long I went at Maximillian, but I found myself taking a step back, blood covering me, pieces of flesh on my shirt like some macabre piece of artwork. My chest rose and fell as I breathed harshly, adrenaline pumping through my veins. And even if Maximillian looked dead already, I could see the way he breathed shallowly, heard the moan come from his swollen, battered lips.