by Lylah James
My chest tightened at his words. Without saying anything, I walked out of the room. My heart was heavy, and it hurt. It hurt for many different reasons. But they all meshed together until all I felt was blinding pain. It hurt without Ayla. It hurt more knowing I was helpless.
But it also hurt because I always wanted to hear those words from my father. I had craved for those words and his support. And now that I had them, I didn’t know what to do with them.
Shaking my head to clear my sudden foggy mind, I walked down the hall with only one purpose in mind. To find my Angel. That was all that mattered.
But even with my purposeful stride and determined mind, I couldn’t shake away one thought.
In the sitting room, that was the most my father and I had spoken with each other in twenty-two years.
Chapter 37
3 weeks later
My head was buried in Ayla’s pillow. It still smelled like her. I refused to have it washed. I needed something of her, and her sweet vanilla smell was the only thing left of her.
I inhaled and felt my eyes burn. I felt pathetic.
But I was too far gone. Almost three months without Ayla and I was slowly losing myself. Every day, it was worse. Every day, it got harder until I didn’t know how to live anymore.
I forgot to eat. Sometimes I even forgot to sleep. Just stared at the wall, lost in the memories of my Angel.
I never stopped searching. Not a single day. But no matter how much I searched, how far I looked, she was nowhere to be seen.
It was as if she never existed. Never here. Sometimes I wondered if it was all a dream. I wondered if she had really been here. With me.
But she was here. I could still smell her. See her sometimes. Hear her laughter and sweet voice. She was everywhere but still gone.
And I was empty without her.
Was that how my father and Isaak felt?
The whole house had been in a despairing mood. Nobody really talked. We all stopped caring about everything else. The only one we cared about and thought about was Ayla.
Maddie lost a friend who was more like a sister. To Lena, Ayla was a daughter. Another child to pamper and love. My men felt like a failure.
While I lost the woman who was my everything.
With a sigh, I rolled to my back and stared at the ceiling. Through my pain, I thought about what Ayla was going through.
Her pain was no comparison to mine. It hurt more knowing that she was hurting. My pain didn’t matter, but hers did.
I felt her pain, and it was enough to break me.
Alberto used to call, but it had been three weeks since his last call. Three weeks of nothing but silence from the other side.
I realized that I was somewhat thankful for his daily call. At least I knew Ayla was alive. Now, I didn’t know. I knew nothing, and all I could do was hope.
But hope was such a silly emotion. How could I hope when I felt so helpless and hopeless? It was all jaded hope.
Instead of hoping, I chose to believe in our love. Maybe it was strong enough to keep Ayla alive.
I knew that when I found her, Ayla would never be the same again.
But I also knew that when the time came, I wasn’t going to give up on her. I would heal her again, like I did before. I would teach her how to live again, how to smile, laugh, and love again.
Alberto may have clipped her wings, but I was going to make sure she would fly again.
***
2 weeks later
I stood in the driveway and watched Nikolay going through the lock, and then the door opened. I walked inside the house, my men following behind me.
The house was quiet, almost seeming empty. But the woman in the living room betrayed the perception of the house being empty.
Her back was to us, and at the sound of our footsteps, she swiveled around quickly, her hand going to her chest in panic. Her eyes flared in fear, and she took several steps back, hitting the wall behind her.
“Hello, Anna,” I started, walking further into the house, making the air seem more dangerous and deadly.
Anna trembled against the wall, her whole body quaking with terror. To say I was surprised that she came back was an understatement. She must have known what to expect the moment she stepped foot back into New York, but she still returned.
And now she would lead us right to Enzo.
“How was your trip?” I asked, taking a seat on the sofa in front of her. I sat back and crossed my ankle on my opposite knee, watching her reaction like a hawk.
“You…what…are…?” she stuttered, looking wildly around the room and at my men. She looked for an escape, but there was none. Not this time.
It didn’t stop her from trying, though. She ran into the kitchen, and I sighed in frustration.
“I don’t have time for a game of cat and mouse, Anna,” I called out loudly enough that my voice echoed across the walls.
I heard her scream, and she yelled at someone to let her go. Rubbing my face in frustration, I waited for her to come back to the living room.
I turned around to see Nikolay dragging her back as she flailed. Anna threw her body on the ground, trying to stop Nikolay. Instead of stopping, he just grabbed her arm, dragging her body across the floor.
“No. Let me go! Don’t hurt me, please,” she whimpered as Nikolay deposited her in front of me.
“If you cooperate, I won’t hurt you,” I replied stoically, leveling her with a glare.
She flinched and scrambled backward. Shaking her head, she whispered, “I don’t know anything about Ayla.”
My eyebrows raised up high in surprise, and a heartless chuckle vibrated from my chest. “How do you know I’m here for Ayla?”
Her eyes widened, and she snapped her mouth shut. Too late. She was already caught.
“Where is your husband? Tell me where Enzo is, and I will let you go,” I snarled, sitting forward so that my face was mere inches from hers.
She shook her head repeatedly. “I don’t know. I really don’t know. Please, I’m telling the truth.”
“I really hate when people lie,” I tsked before sitting back, giving the frightened woman some breathing space.
“I’m not lying,” she begged, her eyes wide with fright. She looked at my men, her eyes begging, as if asking someone to help her.
But no one was going to help her. She was at my mercy.
“I know the things you have participated in. Every single detail. You might have an innocent face, but you are far from innocent,” I hissed, my voice getting louder with each word.
Enzo was part of the human trafficking business with Alberto. What surprised me was when I found out his wife was part of it, too. She trained the victims to become slaves.
It made me sick to think that a woman would do that to another. It made my heart ache to know that Ayla could have been one of those victims.
Her shaking worsened, her face crumpling as tears slid down her cheeks. It didn’t faze me one bit. Her fear was useless, and she was helpless.
“Start talking!” I bellowed. Her back straightened as she flattened herself against the wall, cowering in the corner. When she said nothing, Nikolay stepped forward and pulled her up.
Viktor brought a chair and placed it in front of me. She fought Nikolay as he pulled her down on the chair. She screamed and cried when Viktor tied her body to the chair, rendering her useless and at our mercy.
“Please don’t hurt me,” she whimpered in horror when I took my gun out. “Please. Believe me, I don’t know anything.”
“I’m not going to hurt you,” I simply replied, my voice as emotionless as before.
“Have mercy,” she begged when I stood up, towering over her much smaller body.
“As I said, I’m not going to hurt you,” I scoffed at her attempt to beg. If only she would talk.
Leaning forward until our faces were close, I continued. “I will never hurt a woman.”
It was the truth. I would never hurt a woman or even lay a ha
nd on them in an attempt to kill them. It wasn’t how my men and I worked.
Her body sagged against the ropes, and a look of relief flashed in her eyes. “You won’t hurt me? You will let me go? Please, I don’t know anything.”
This time I smiled. A cold, heartless smile.
Her eyes widened. The look of distress on her face almost made me laugh. How naïve of her. Panic and horror painted her face as she trembled with the uncertainty of her fate.
I waited.
One second. Two. Three. Four.
With each passing second, her panic grew.
Five. Six. Seven. Eight.
She cried silently. I just smiled, or was it a half sadistic smile? Probably.
Nine. Ten. Eleven. Twelve.
I heard the door behind us open. It closed with a bang. I heard the sound of high heels clicking against the hard floor.
“Did someone call me?” the intruder said to my back. I felt the smile in the intruder’s voice.
I didn’t answer. My gaze stayed on Anna, unflinching. Although she was looking behind me now. Her already wide eyes widened more.
“I said I wasn’t going to hurt you. But that doesn’t mean someone else can’t,” I murmured so only she could hear.
“No, no, no,” she whispered in alarm as I pulled back, my back straightening as I stood to my full height. “Who are you?” Her voice trembled, but the words were spoken clear enough for everyone to hear.
“My name is not important.”
The words were softly spoken, but the voice held such dark promises. I took a step back and watched Anna shake in fear. Dread filled her expression, and her lips quivered with the effort to keep her tears at bay.
I turned around and faced the intruder. The side of my lips tilted up in a small smile.
Only she would dress up for a job like this. Black leather jacket. Tight black leather pants. Red heels. The hood of the jacket was over her head, covering half of her face. It was used to camouflage her appearance.
One second passed. Another.
She lifted her hands up and pulled the hood down, showing her face. Her face was as flawless as ever, with her lips painted red. Only this time, she looked different. Her expression showed no emotion.
Blonde hair fell down her back as she looked straight at the tied-up woman behind me.
A smile spread across her lips, although it was nothing close to welcoming or gentle. No, it was a sadistic smile. A predator ready to hunt its prey.
The woman standing in front of me looked very much like the killer she was.
Nina.
She worked undercover for me, but she was also a killer. A trained assassin. Someone who did my dirty work.
And by dirty work I meant torturing the answers out of women who refused to cooperate.
She took a step forward. Another. A few more steps until she walked past me and stood in front of Anna.
“What you need to know is that by the time I’m done, you won’t remember your name. Or the difference between living and dead,” she started, her voice low and deadly.
Leaning forward until their faces were close, noses almost touching, Nina’s lips curled up. “I am your worst nightmare, baby. I am what you call…Death.”
Those were the same lines she fed her captives. They would tremble in fear and sometimes piss their pants. The reaction she got from Anna was no different.
Nina was good at her job. Better than most. She did her job with a passion.
Nina had the same darkness that my men and I had in us. She craved blood. She had the need to kill.
“Your tools and everything you need are in the bag next to your feet,” Viktor announced, finally speaking up.
“Thank you,” she replied, not glancing away from her captive.
Shaking my head, I rolled my shoulders, trying to relieve the tension there. “She’s all yours,” I muttered before turning around and striding away.
I walked out of the house with my men following closely behind me.
Nina worked alone, not that she needed help.
Nikolay closed the door as I leaned against the wall. “So?” Viktor asked.
My reply was simple. “We wait.”
That was exactly what we did. We waited.
It was mostly quiet, but if I listened carefully, the muffled screams could be heard. They filled our ears as we stayed by the door. It shouldn’t have taken her hours to break Anna—but knowing Nina, she was just taking her time and enjoying this.
I could imagine what was going on in there, but I stopped thinking after a few minutes. Nina liked to get creative. She always surprised us, but whatever she did was always effective. At the end of the day, we got the answers we needed, and that was all that mattered.
How we got it didn’t matter.
After three hours, although I was surprised Anna lasted this long, the door finally opened. Nina walked out, looking fresh and surprisingly decent from what just occurred inside.
But then again, Nina was a clean assassin. As clean as a killer could get.
She stopped beside me, her face impassive as she stared straight ahead. Her sadistic smile was gone and now replaced with a more contented, relaxed one.
Nina removed her black leather gloves. They were most definitely stained with blood, but the thing with black was that the blood we spilled never showed on it.
She passed the gloves to Phoenix, who was standing beside her, her eyes on her hands as she inspected her nails.
“I need another manicure,” she muttered and tsked.
Shaking my head, I glanced at the door.
She noticed where my attention was and sighed. “Enzo is hiding at the Black Club.”
My eyebrows furrowed in question. “The MC?”
“The one and only. They work for Alberto. Undercover. No wonder they’re helping hide Enzo,” Nina replied with an exaggerated huff.
“Anna finally admitted it?” I asked quietly.
Nina nodded. “It took me a little longer to break her.” She shrugged before continuing. “But no matter how long it takes, by the time I’m done with someone, they are always left broken.”
That was true. Nina was good at what she did. She liked to call herself Death. She earned that name, though.
“She is pretty loyal,” Nina added. Unfortunately, when it came to life and death, her loyalty flew out of the window.
“Is she alive?” I asked, although I already knew the answer.
“Well, she was when I left…I thought it would be nice to let her think about her life. I was in a generous mood, lucky her. But she stopped breathing about two minutes ago,” Nina replied dryly, looking down at her watch.
Viktor scoffed. “Generous mood,” he muttered under his breath.
Nina heard and sent him glare. “All of a sudden, I’m not in a generous mood anymore. Don’t test me, Viktor.”
She turned back to me and lost her glare in the process. Her face was still cold, but there was a hint of sympathy in her eyes, if it even was possible for her to feel anything.
“About Ayla, I’m sorry,” she said regretfully. “I know what type of man Alberto is. I saw how he treats the women in the clubs, and I can’t imagine what Ayla is going through right now.”
My chest tightened at her words, and my body grew cold. Shaking her head, Nina glanced down before continuing. “I also owe her an apology. For what I said. Although I didn’t really mean what I said. I was testing her. To see if she was strong enough.”
Viktor shook his head and huffed. The others rolled their eyes. Nina glared, her eyes shooting venom.
“Oh please, all of you know that I could have broken her body in half before she even had a chance to lay a finger on me,” she hissed, her anger evident. “That’s enough to prove I didn’t mean it.”
I closed my eyes with a tired sigh. “You can apologize to her when she’s found.”
When I opened my eyes, I saw Nina nodding. When we fell into silence, she stepped off the porch. “If you
need any other help—for anything—just call,” she said, her back straight, a look of determination and true loyalty on her face.
“I hope you find her soon,” Nina mumbled before walking away. “She deserves more than the life she got.”
I struggled to breathe, my chest heaving with the effort to be in control. I stared at Nina’s retreating back, and after a few minutes, I finally found myself calming down.
Although my blood still roared with the need to kill, I kept the rage underneath the layers on my skin.
I glanced back at the door. I should have just walked away and let Phoenix take care of the cleaning, but curiosity got the best of me.
I stepped back into the house and was assaulted with the smell of blood. I stared at the woman tied to the chair. Or what was left of the woman.
I felt no pain. No remorse. No emotions at all.
I approached her slowly and stopped a few feet away.
Viktor swore behind me. “Fuck yeah. Now that’s what I call art.”
“Creativity at its best,” Nikolay added quietly. Phoenix and Artur chuckled.
I just stared. Her head fell limply against the back of the chair, her body sagging as her blood poured around her.
She was missing all the fingers on her right hand. All her nails from her left hand. Her missing fingers were on the floor in a pool of blood. She was missing an eye.
It looked like it had been carved out in the most painful and horrifying way. Not that I was surprised. Her other eye stared straight ahead, lifeless. The light had left her. Her face was covered in blood; her clothes were soaked with it.
The smell of death hung in the air. An unfortunate death for an unfortunate situation.
Warring emotions raced violently through my mind, but I quickly tamped them down. Now was not the time to get weak over a death.
“Phoenix. Artur. Clean up,” I ordered, turning away from the lifeless woman.
I walked out of the house and took a deep breath as soon as I hit the fresh air.