Broken
When we arrived at the warehouse, instead of dragging me through the building and treating me like a rodent that needed to be exterminated like the last time I was there, Maksim and I walked arm and arm to the loading docks where we waited for Dmitri. I had on a nude-colored eyelet dress, and I felt ashamed Dmitri would see me wearing designer clothes Maksim had bought for me. I didn’t have time to go through the full primping process of hair and makeup as I had the night before, but I felt like a traitor for accepting expensive gifts from my abductor.
The loading door clambered open, Yuri stole me away from Maksim, and a team of bodyguards led by Valentina steered Dmitri into the room. Speaking in Russian, Valentina ordered Dmitri to strip down. He slid off his t-shirt and exposed his chiseled shoulders, muscular arms, and perfectly sculpted body. He kicked off his gym shoes, pulled off his socks, and dropped his athletic pants. As he stood there in his form-fitting boxers with an “I’ll fucking kill every one of you” scowl on his face, Valentina’s gaze moved slowly up and down his body.
On the outside, Dmitri was built like a tank that could mow over the entire Russian Army and had the swagger of a snarling attack dog. Dmitri could flatten those meatheads with his fists—I’d seen him do it—but he was also an honorable member of my family who considered the oath he’d taken to protect me as a sacred vow.
Valentina ordered him to hold out his arms. He did, and she patted him down and inspected his underwear. She slid her fingers inside the waistband and ran her hand across his ass. Dmitri kept eye contact and didn’t flinch when she touched him there to make sure he hadn’t snuck a weapon into their hideout.
Valentina moved with the grace of a ballerina and had a rocking athletic build, shapely curves, and long, glossy black hair. Beautiful by most standards, except for her face. Her expression remained permanently frozen in evil witch mode, her eyes sharp and watchful like an eagle, with tight lips, and a wrinkled nose. Understandable for a woman in her position to be on high alert, but she resembled a persnickety old lady despite being in her twenties.
Once she completed her search and was satisfied Dmitri hadn’t smuggled in a weapon, she removed her hand from his underwear and ordered him to put his clothes back on. As Dmitri got redressed, he scowled at Yuri. My handler had his big hand clutched around my forearm and pinned me at his side. I was mentally torched and had about as much energy as a dead battery, yet Yuri intentionally handled me rougher than necessary to provoke my bodyguard into a fight.
Dmitri’s nostrils flared like a ticked-off bull as he pulled his shirt back on over his shoulder-length, stringy black hair, but he checked his temper when he caught a glimpse of my panic-ridden face. “Give her to me.” Dmitri held out his hand and motioned for me to come to him.
Yuri wouldn’t let me go. He glared at Dmitri like he would rather tear off my limbs than turn me over, baiting Dmitri to take me by force. “I don’t take orders from you.” Then he directed his gaze at Maksim.
Maksim gave Yuri a nod of approval, prompting him to shove me forward and release me to my bodyguard.
Dmitri caught me and gave me a visual frisking to check for injuries. “What did he do to you? Need doctor?”
“I’m fine. No one hurt me. I’m just sore.” I lifted my hands to show him the lesions around my wrists from the restraints.
Dmitri shot an accusing glare at Yuri. “Carter is your brother’s wife, mudak. You protect your family.”
“I don’t have no family. The shlyukha is nothing to me.”
Dmitri’s body tensed and his arms tightened around me when Yuri referred to me as a whore. If I hadn’t been between them, Dmitri would’ve tackled Yuri to the floor and pummeled him until he forcibly shut his disrespectful mouth. Not only did Dmitri take pride in his position of being entrusted with my safety, he idolized my husband. Out of all the men in the Bratva, Vladimir chose him to protect me, and he wore his title of bodyguard like a crown.
Maksim snapped his fingers at Dmitri. “As you can see, Mrs. Ivanov is unharmed, and I have kept my end of the deal. Make the call and give your report to the pakhan. Let’s get on with this already.” Maksim glanced at his watch nervously. I’d heard his phone vibrating nonstop in his pocket for the last few minutes, but he hadn’t answered it. Maybe it was the same person who had agitated him before dinner. He was the boss of his crew, so the only men higher up had to be from Moscow. I wasn’t sure if that was a good sign for us, or a disaster.
Dmitri made the call. He spoke to Vladimir and acknowledged Maksim had kept his word, and aside from being manhandled and frightened, I was unharmed. After conversing with my husband for a few moments, Dmitri announced, “The pakhan is on his way.”
“Marvelous.” Maksim shifted his gaze between Yuri and Valentina. “Take Mrs. Ivanov and her beast to the guestroom in the basement and keep her comfortable until her husband arrives. She is not to be injured, antagonized, or upset in any way. She is carrying the pakhan’s baby. I don’t want to see a mark on her beautiful body. Do I make myself clear?”
They both begrudgingly answered in the affirmative.
“But do not underestimate Dmitri. Keep that brute on a short leash. He is to be restrained and kept under lock and key at all times.”
Dmitri was a skilled fighter, and they were right to keep him locked up. Maksim had attended his underground boxing matches and watched him knock out hardened challengers who were bigger than he was—and he’d lost a fortune when he’d bet against the champ. Even though he didn’t carry a gun, my bodyguard was the most lethal person in the building. Keeping him subdued and chained in the underbelly of the warehouse was necessary to prevent him from picking off the crew. In truth, I was relieved Maksim was locking me up with Dmitri. I couldn’t stomach another moment alone with that pervert.
Yuri jammed his gun in Dmitri’s back and ordered him to walk. Valentina clutched my arm and led the way through the warehouse to the uninviting “guestroom.” Valentina shoved me inside then Yuri did the same with Dmitri. Yuri locked us in without following Maksim’s orders to shackle my bodyguard.
This had to be a good sign. Maybe Yuri was having second thoughts about participating in Vladimir’s murder. I knew he wouldn’t take part in killing his brother. He had to know his family loved him unconditionally, and they could mend their broken relationship if he would leave the Ovechkin Bratva and go back home.
“Cuff him.” Yuri looked at me and pointed to the same chains he had locked me up with upon my arrival.
“You want me to lock him up?”
Yuri gave me the “Stupid Girl” glare, making him look a lot like his papa.
Dmitri raised his hands and assumed the wrist-shackling position. I did what I was told and tried to keep them loose so they wouldn’t hurt—and possibly give him enough wiggle room to escape—but Yuri barked at me to make them tighter. Reluctantly, I clicked them firmly around his wrists.
“Now his ankles.”
I followed orders, leaving Dmitri defenseless with no way to escape. Selfishly, I also considered he had no way to protect me if any member of the crew decided to hurt me. Vladimir was due to arrive at any moment, which evoked an overwhelming feeling of terror, hopelessness, and guilt. Once I finished locking up Dmitri, Yuri ordered me to sit on the cot. I backed up until my shaky legs met the metal bedframe and took a seat. I expected Yuri to enter the cell and lock me up as well, but instead, he sat in a chair next to the bars and lit a cigarette.
Aside from the creaking sounds of the building settling and quiet murmurs and footsteps coming from upstairs, an eerie calm had settled over our prison. Dmitri was more focused on delivering a disapproving glare at Yuri than he was concerned about me. The hatred Dmitri felt for him oozed from his pores. Dmitri loved Vladimir like his own brother, and I knew this was as traumatic for him as it was for me.
He was probably as confused as I was about why Yuri left the family and how his soul had turned dark enough to participate in Vladimir’s murder. I didn’t know how to change the outcome, but I knew the narrow path to freedom was through Yuri. The only conceivable way to escape was with his help.
“Yuri, will you please tell me what happened that made you leave the family?”
“I didn’t leave—I was kicked out, but not before my papa nearly beat me to death.”
Dmitri scoffed to make his objection known.
I wasn’t shocked in the slightest Boris had gone to blows with one of his children. I’d witnessed his violent temper, and he’d littered my body with bruises and coerced me into submission with threats of violence against my loved ones. “What did you do to tick him off?”
His eyes sharpened. “You don’t know how my sister died?”
“The feud is over Katia? What happened?” I knew Boris’s daughter had died at a young age, but no one in the family had ever said what happened to her.
He shook his head and took a puff off his cigarette. “Doesn’t matter.”
“Yuri took her to the lake to go ice skating,” Dmitri said. “It was early in the winter season, and the water hadn’t completely frozen over. The ice broke, and Katia fell in the water.”
“How awful. She drowned?”
“Nyet. Yuri dove in the icy water and saved her,” Dmitri said. “She survived the accident but she had water in her lungs. Katia died from pneumonia.”
“I don’t understand. It was an accident. What caused the fight? Does someone in the family blame you for her death?”
The anguish in his eyes led me to believe Yuri blamed himself. I knew from personal experience the deep remorse that came along with losing a sibling, and the gut-wrenching guilt associated with causing a fatal accident. I had felt responsible for the car crash that killed my sister, and I imagined Yuri believed that if he hadn’t taken Katia ice skating, she would still be alive.
He took a drag off his cigarette and averted his eyes to the floor.
“Tell me what happened. I need to know the truth. What caused the fight?” I got up from the cot and moved closer to my brother-in-law. His jaw clenched when I reached through the bars and touched his arm. His muscles were so tense, I could feel the self-deprecating thoughts pulsing through his veins. “Please talk to me.” I had to know what caused the feud, so I could help resolve the problem. Yuri was the only one who could help us escape. I believed Boris had a plan, but with all those gun-toting men guarding the warehouse, I couldn’t imagine how he could get all of us out alive. If Yuri didn’t flip soon, Vladimir didn’t stand a chance.
“Papa told me to watch Katia. It was my job to keep her safe. I failed her and lost my father’s trust when she fell into the lake.” He leaned back in his chair and shrugged off my arm. “I haven’t spoken to my family in years. Not my brothers, Papa, not even my own mother has attempted to reach me. I’m dead to them. They’re dead to me.”
“What about Vladimir? I don’t believe he would blame you for the accident.”
“He stayed out of it and said it was between Papa and me. He was my brother. He should’ve defended me, but instead, he stayed silent while our papa blamed me for Katia’s death. My own father called me a murderer.” Subconsciously, he rubbed his finger over the pink teardrop tattoo inked on his cheek.
“That was Boris’s grief talking. He’s too stubborn to apologize and admit he was wrong. Pasha would welcome you back in a second. I know your mama, and whatever happened, she would forgive you and welcome you home. Please, reach out to them. For your sake as well as for Vladimir’s.”
“I understand Mama is very fond of you, Carter.”
I let out a little snort and shook my head at his obvious sarcasm. “I guess you heard what Anya did to me when she thought I endangered her family.” While we were in Ekaterinburg, she had put me in the hospital when she believed I was trying to steal Vladimir away from her. “You must know Anya would do anything to get you back—except cross the line Boris drew in the sand. You have to be the one to make the call. This is your chance to be a hero, Yuri. Rise above the bullshit and protect your family.”
“Listen, girly. I have no family.” He stood and paced the length of the cell as he puffed on his cigarette.
I gave up on him having a conscience and resorted to Plan B—coercion. I stood tall, straightened my shoulders, and aimed my finger at Yuri. “I’ve tried to reason with you, but now you leave me no choice. Switch teams now, come back to the family, or die in this shithole with the rest of these losers.”
Dmitri wrinkled his forehead and stared at me like I was insane, but I’d been around the Russians long enough to see how they operated. My family got what they wanted with violence and scare tactics. Just because I was the weakest link in the family chain of command, it didn’t mean I was incapable of exercising the Ivanov Power Play.
“Only one family will win this game, Team Ivanov or Team Ovechkin. I’m carrying Vladimir’s baby, and if you fuck with me or my loved ones, I will make you suffer in ways that will haunt you for the rest of your life, understand?” Boris had threatened me with those exact words back in America. It sounded much more believable and cringe-worthy when he had said it, but I sneered and narrowed my eyes for effect. “You are either on my team or you are against me, Yuri Chuchin. Choose wisely—or else.”
Yuri rubbed out his cigarette and checked his watch. “If you are going to break free of your cell and unleash your attack, you might want to get on with it. Time is running out, Mrs. Ivanov.”
Footsteps padded down the stairs, and Valentina entered the room carrying a tray of food. When she busted me standing by the bars, she frowned at me like I was an inferior rodent. “Why isn’t she in handcuffs?”
I slapped on my trembling victim game face and prepared for the greatest challenge of my life. Boris’s odds of getting all of us out of the Ovechkin lair alive were dismal. Mount Yuri was impassible, Dmitri was restrained and locked in the cell, and Vladimir would have fifty machine guns aimed at him upon arrival. The only member of the family left to save us was me.
Game on, Team Ovechkin.