Let’s say everything is going according to plan.
Well, not every single thing, per se, considering Sasha hates me and is probably counting the days until she can leave me.
The leaving part won’t be happening—just saying.
She can be mad at me all she wants. She can criticize my methods and forbid me from touching her for three whole blasphemous days.
She can delude herself into thinking that she can leave me if she chooses to, but in reality, however, none of that nonsense will take place.
The more she insists on that, the faster I’ll come up with solutions to make her stay.
If she hates me for it, then so be it.
I’d rather be hated than be forced into a life without her.
I’ve been there, done that, and the mere thought of those two months from hell still terrorizes me.
Sasha has always been important to me in one way or another, but it wasn’t until I thought I’d lost her that I realized she’s more important than the air I breathe.
But that’s a thought for another day.
Today, I’m staring at my phone while listening to Damien blabber about his adrenaline dose and what-the-fuck-ever.
The downside of being a Pakhan is conducting business from home. It’s not something I particularly care for, and is definitely something I could do without it.
Especially since my house is a war zone at the moment. Karina is literally out to get me, and Kristina looks like broken china and bursts into tears whenever she sees me.
Add the fact that my wife glares at me anytime our eyes meet, and it’s safe to say I’m not a fan of the house right now.
So I imposed myself on Adrian under the pretense that we need to discuss a recent plan that he proposed. The execution of said plan coincidently involves Damien. I might have sent him a text to meet me here if he wanted.
What?
I’m bored while waiting for the result of my efforts, and Damien is the most entertaining clown I have immediate access to.
But even his over-the-top suggestions aren’t doing it for me today.
Perhaps it’s the thought that once this storm ends, I’ll either have everything or nothing.
Adrian, who’s sitting beside me on the sofa in his office, nudges me. “If you’re done using my house as an entertainment parlor…”
I lift my head that I was resting against my fist and stare at him. “Are you kicking your Pakhan out?”
“Some of us have work to do.”
“And you think I don’t?” I motion ahead. “We’re here for a very important issue…what was it again, Damien?”
He wipes the remnants of a brownie off his lips. The guy has the worst sweet tooth on the planet and is personally offended when people don’t offer him cakes, brownies, or cookies.
One day, he’ll get poisoned by his second obsession. That is, if his first obsession—violence—doesn’t take him out first.
“Listen up, Pakhan. This is the last time I’ll repeat it.” He takes a swig of his second glass of vodka, although it’s early afternoon. “You know those all-out wars we have whenever someone offends you personally?”
“By all-out”—Adrian narrows his eyes—“what do you mean, exactly?”
“Come on, Adrian. Don’t be an idiot.”
I snort out a chuckle and Adrian side-eyes me.
“What?” I feign innocence. “I find it amusing that Damien is calling you an idiot.”
“Well, he is.” Damien slams his glass of vodka on the table. “An all-out war includes bloodbaths, killing anyone who moves, and I’m the only one who gets to lead the action, including those from the others’ territories. They can worry about profit, and I’ll take care of counting the bodies.”
I nod thoughtfully. “Which faction did you have in mind?”
“Why the fuck are you indulging him?” Adrian whispers under his breath. “He’ll just go crazier.”
I lift a shoulder. “It’s fun.”
Damien snaps his fingers in my direction. “I’m glad you asked! I prefer any of the Italian families. They’re more hardcore than the other losers. Even better, some Russians from Chicago or Boston.”
“Hmm. Something to consider.”
Adrian tilts his head in my direction. “Seriously?”
“What do you mean, seriously?” Damien gives him a death glare. “I’m telling you, motherfucker, don’t even try to ruin my fun with your annoying gibberish.”
“Your craziness is costing the organization more than we can afford.”
“Blah, blah, and more fucking blah. The Pakhan doesn’t mind. What’s got your panties in a twist, nerd?”
This time, I laugh out loud.
“What the fuck did you just say?” Adrian asks in a grim voice.
“You’re always behind your computer and hacking and what-the-fuck-ever. Definition of a nerd, if you ask me.”
“He’s not wrong,” I say after my laughter subsides.
“I’m going to erase you from existence while you sleep, Orlov. Let’s see if you can handle this nerd then.”
“Doesn’t count, because a real fight doesn’t happen while I’m asleep.” He slides his attention to me. “Anyway, back to the real talk. When are you going to make that war happen, Pakhan?”
“Me?”
“Have you been listening? You need to get offended so this whole thing can start.”
“Right. How does one get himself offended?”
“You’re smart. Figure it out yourself. I can’t be doing all the work for you.”
“I see,” I say in a feigned thoughtful tone. “I’ll keep you posted on any progress I make.”
“Is that going to happen anytime soon?”
“No.”
“Why the fuck not?”
“Because you have a very important role to play.”
“What?” His eyes light up. “Another war?”
“Marriage.”
“How can that substitute for fucking war, Pakhan?”
“It does. In case you didn’t know, marriage can be a war at times. Isn’t that right, Adrian?”
He grumbles an affirmative sound. “The worst you’ll ever have, Orlov.”
“Word,” I agree. “Your wife will try to win at every turn, and you have to lose. Willingly.”
“Fuck no. I’m losing no war.”
“There’s no winning in marriage,” Adrian says. “Your wife is the only one you’ll relinquish power to, or you have to be prepared to lose her.”
I nod. “Sometimes, you have to pretend you lost her just to get her back.”
His brow furrows the more we talk. “This is so fucking confusing. I’m gonna win. End of story.”
“Too new,” I tell Adrian.
“Too inexperienced,” he replies.
“He’s going to learn the hard way.”
“And we’re going to enjoy watching every second of it.”
“Hey!” He stares between us. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”
I’m about to reply, when my phone vibrates in my hand. I look at the screen and pause.
Sure enough, it’s a text from an anonymous number. I expected them to get in touch sooner rather than later to ask for a meeting, but what I didn’t expect was this message.
We have your wife. Be here in an hour alone, or she dies.
My hand tightens around the phone and my jaw clenches so hard, I’m surprised a tendon doesn’t snap.
The fucking—
They must’ve kidnapped her on the way back from visiting Anton. I call Viktor, but I gothe call goes straight to his voicemail.
I briefly close my eyes, trying to purge the worst-case scenario. If they’d kidnapped her, Viktor would’ve told me right away.
Unless they killed him and took her.
I scroll to the tracker and pause. The location is about forty-five minutes away.
“What’s wrong?” Adrian asks, seeming to have caught on to the sudden change in my demeanor.
“I’m going to need you to do something for me.”
“What?”
“Infiltrate a security system if there’s one.”
“Which one?”
“I’ll text you the details while I’m on the way.” I stand up and stare at Damien. “I just got offended, so you have the green light to kill everyone at the location I’m sending you to. Everyone but my wife and Viktor.”
On my way out, I call Maksim. He answers after two rings. “Maks speaking.”
“It’s time.”
His voice hardens. “Yes, Boss.”
I knew they’d do this, but they made a terrible mistake: getting Sasha involved.
It’s not the first, but it’ll certainly be the last mistake they make.
