Blinded By The Kindled Fire (Ongoing)

десять

𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐗𝐒𝐄𝐈

The sun barely crept over the horizon by the time I returned to the estate. The estate, hidden away in the dense Russian woods, stood like a fortress against the world. It was just how I preferred it—quiet, impenetrable, a place where no one could see through the walls I'd built around myself. The heavy mist clung to the air, adding a coldness to the already freezing morning, but the chill was familiar, even comforting.

Inside, the atmosphere was as tense as I'd expected. Ilya, Maxim, Sergei, and Irina were waiting in the grand hall, their eyes trained on me as I walked in, the sound of my footsteps echoing off the stone walls.

They knew better than to ask outright, but I could feel their questions hovering in the air, thick with curiosity. My men had learned to read my silence over the years, but last night had thrown them off. They weren't stupid.

I made my way to the large fireplace without saying a word. The flames crackled, casting an orange glow that barely reached the cold stone floor. I poured myself a drink, feeling the burn of vodka slide down my throat as I stood with my back to them.

"Chto proizoshlo proshloy noch'yu?" What happened last night? Ilya finally asked, his tone cautious.

For a moment, I considered telling him. Just a few words would make the questions disappear, but I kept my back to him, staring into the fire instead.

"Nichego, chto kasayetsya kogo-libo iz vas." Nothing that concerns any of you. I said, keeping my voice low, even.

There was a shuffle behind me, and I knew Maxim and Sergei were exchanging glances. Irina, on the other hand, stood as still as ever, her sharp gaze probably trying to read something more from my words. She was always the most perceptive, the one who could sense when something was off. And last night... I hadn't expected her to be there.

Davina Nefertari D'Atri, standing in that ballroom like she owned the place. Like Vegas had never happened.

Irina's voice cut through my thoughts. "It wasn't just business last night, was it?"

I didn't turn around, but my grip on the glass tightened as I sat on the couch infront of the fireplace. I could feel her eyes boring into my back, searching for cracks in the armor. I wasn't about to give her the satisfaction.

"You're asking too many questions." I said, my voice dropping an octave, "Ostav' eto." Leave it.

A heavy silence followed, the kind that signaled everyone in the room knew better than to push. The subject was closed. It should have been, at least. But then again, Irina wasn't one to follow orders blindly.

"You said you've been doing a deeper investigation on Davina D'Atri." I continued, turning slightly toward her now, "More than what you've given me previously."

"I want to know everything—her friends, her enemies, her past. She crosses the street, I want to know why."

"Chto vy nam ne govorite?" What are you not telling us? She started, her voice soft but probing, "There's more to her than just—"

Before she could finish, Ilya stepped forward, cutting her off with a firm hand on her arm. "Irina, dostatochno." Enough. He said quietly, though his voice carried weight.

She glanced at him, irritation flashing briefly in her eyes, but she didn't argue. Ilya pulled her back a step, "This isn't the time." He added, his tone brokering no argument.

Irina sighed, but I could see her frustration boiling beneath the surface, and before she could burst, Ilya added, "The pakhan gave you orders, can I rely on you to see it through?" He eyed her sharply.