𝑇𝑎𝑚𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑃ℎ𝑜𝑒𝑛𝑖𝑥 ✔︎ || 𝐶𝑜𝑚𝑝𝑙𝑒𝑡𝑒𝑑

55

~ ilya ~

The report that had arrived at my office at exactly one minute before nine was infuriating. Perhaps, that was why Chevneshesky didn't bring it up himself.

Calmly, I twirled the cuff link of my shirt between my red fingers.

The maids moved silently, like rabbits. Every time I turned a page, I watched each one flinch from the corner of my eye. I didn't pity them or their bloodstained pinafores as they cleaned my mess. I didn't feel anything.

Apparently, one of the guards had remembered what happened in the basement that night. His tale was fascinating, or maybe it wasn't. In all honesty, I hadn't been listening. My eyes had watched his Adam's apple bobbing up and down nervously and then his left brow twitching. I hadn't felt like that, like a predator, in what seemed like years. I'd even noticed a trickle of sweat glide down his flushed skin.

Then he said a word I didn't want to hear and I was no longer in control of what my hands did. I could not understand why the сука returned to Novgorod. Had I not warned him to never return?

He evidently hadn't believed the treat. And with silent fury, I wondered if that was the case for the rest of my men. Did they think I was suddenly incapable of delivering on my promises? Was their respect, their fear, faltering?

Because of Phoenix Lyra Vale.

Her name didn't hurt anymore. She'd finally done it: she'd worn me down. She'd worn everything away. I couldn't tame her, nor save her. She'd ruined everything single-handedly.

One single woman had tarnished my reputation, exposed my brotherhood, provoked my enemies... played with my emotions even as she carried my son.

So why did I still want her? Why did I crave her touch? Yearn to hear her voice? Why was I still chasing her?

Slowly, calmly, I slid my phone out of my pocket.

In my peripheral vision, one of the women jumped. I flicked my wrist and in seconds, both had disappeared.

Aleksey answered my call immediately. In the background, I heard the whirring of the helicopter blades.

"Did you see the report?" I drawled, lazily. My other hand slid onto the desk, scrunching the pages into a small, insignificant ball.

He replied shortly. "Да, I'm on my way there."

"Don't."

I listened to Aleksey's silence as I squeezed the paper ball in my fist.

"Ilya."

My fingers stilled. I hadn't heard that name since—

"Dimitri," I interrupted sharply.

"I'm headed towards Sicily to find—"

"I SAID DON'T!"

There was silence again.

This time, I broke it: "Your priority is to find Sokolov," I ordered, regaining composure. "I will handle the other matters."

"As you wish," Aleksey finally replied. "But Sokolov is not hard to find. He's in plain sight, taunting us. Do you not think it is a trap?"

"Or it's an act. Perhaps he wants to create the impression that he has nothing to be afraid of."

"He has Vera. He knows that we know."

"Then get her back," I retorted as I stood straightening my suit jacket. I strode into the restroom to clean the blood off my hands.

The body was gone and with no trace.

"I will," my second in command vowed.

"Flush him out of Russia. I want to find him in Italy," I ordered, striding down to the garage. I gestured at a group of men to follow me.

"You're going to Italy?"

"Да, I've got matters to settle," was my curt response.

"I'll see you there."

I slipped the phone back into my pocket as I ducked into my Lamborghini. I drove into the hangar behind the compound. The end compartment of the plane slowly swung open. I headed up the ramp into the aircraft. Once parked, I climbed back out into the jet's interior. I found the cockpit, and waved dismissively to the captain. He disappeared into the back. With a slow breath, I pulled the ignition switch. The jet thrummed as it came to life.

Out of the windshield, I observed dozens of my men boarding two other aircraft. I lowered my lips to the radio mic and said, "Мы едем на Сицилию. Загрузите в самолеты оружие и боеприпасы. Готовьтесь к бою." [We're going to Sicily. Load the jets with weapons and ammunition. Prepare for a fight.]

My voice boomed out of the speakers surrounding the hangar. Each man paused in his steps to listen.

Finally, I uttered with vengeance. "Они принесли бой на нашу землю. Отнесем ублюдкам. Они заплатят кровью." [They brought the fight to our land. We will take it back to the bastards. They will pay with blood.]

Moments later, a sound came through. It was a vehement chorus of approval.

I switched the radio off.

My hands found the glocks at my waist. I cocked each one, checking that each magazine was full with the 12mm bullets.

My fingers began to shake as I wondered what I'd find in Italy. I inhaled a shaky breath, clenching my fist to still them. My eyes blurred for a brief moment. The cabin was unmoving and silent, leaving me with nothing to hear but the thudding in my chest. Everything seemed to fade except for the relentless longing I felt from deep within.

Frustrated, I slammed my hands onto the deck of the cockpit.

I felt so fucking helpless.

When my cheeks began to become damp, my head fell forwards into my hands. My knees wouldn't stop shaking. I couldn't explain the burn in my chest. Was it anger? Or—

I stood, slamming my fist into a wall. The momentary pain snapped me back into reality. There was no time.

Moments later, an alarm blared across the aircraft hanger. The first jet took off, followed closely by the second.

Straightening my jacket, I clenched and examined my reddening fist. I hissed a short breath before taking a seat back before the control desk. I heard the quiet muttering of voices at the back of the plane. I closed the bruised fist around the throttle lever and pulled back slowly. A minute later, we were airborne.

I'm coming, baby.

One last time.

NOTE:
Um, so yh...
Also, I literally can't wait to reveal the third book and I have nothing but eleven entire weeks for it. Summer's here, hoes!!!
xo, Rosavi