Dangerous Husbands, Broken Wives [18+]

ELEVEN: EXECUTION

Anastasia was confident that she had caught the sound of a scream. Upon their return home after dinner in Moscow, she had fallen into a deep sleep. However, upon hearing the piercing scream, she jolted awake.

The scream was far too horrifying, sending shivers down her spine. Fearing that Ivan had somehow injured himself where his fresh wound was, she reached out to touch his side of the bed only to find it empty.

A chilling sense of dread settled in the depths of Ana's stomach. She couldn't explain why, but she was consumed by intense fear. Hastily switching on the lights, she hurriedly got out of bed and made her way downstairs to search for him in the kitchen.

He was not in the kitchen.

Ana turned around and rushed to see if he were somehow in his office.

He was not in his office either.

"For the love of God, Ivan—where the hell are you?" she muttered under her breath, feeling a mix of anger and frustration that he would leave the house without informing her. It was incredibly irresponsible of him.

Didn't he realize how concerned she would be? She had been trying to be understanding, patiently waiting for the day when he would feel comfortable enough to confide in her about what he had been keeping hidden. However, the situation was spiraling out of control and Ana was desperate to set some things straight.

Grumbling to herself, Ana readied herself to retreat back to her bedroom and urgently dial his number. The overwhelming longing to hear his voice consumed her. However, just as she was about to climb the stairs for the second time, a piercing, terrifying scream shattered the silence.

Taken aback, Ana quickly turned on her heel, feeling a strong determination grip her. It was unquestionable that the scream had come from the basement—an ominous place she had seen Ivan and his mysterious associates frequent on several occasions. He mostly made sure she didn't leave her room when he had someone over but she had seen him, and now she was curious to see what it was that he didn't want to see.

As she inched closer to the door that looked like any other in the entire mansion, she swallowed and hesitated momentarily. What if Ivan was down there? What if seeing her he gets mad? It was obvious he didn't want her there. She had witnessed his explosive anger on numerous occasions, and to put it mildly, it was far from a pleasant sight.

Chewing on her lip, she couldn't resist her overwhelming curiosity.

Ana cautiously cracked open the door, making an effort to be as silent as possible.

Making her way down a dimly lit, lengthy corridor that bore an uncanny resemblance to the upper floors, she approached the door from which the agonizing voices emanated. As she drew nearer to the source of the screams, she could faintly discern some voices as well, possibly engaged in hushed conversations, likely in Russian.

The door didn't require any effort to open; it was already slightly ajar. As Ana caught sight of the gruesome scene within—the severed limbs scattered on the floor, immersed in a pool of blood, and a man bound to a chair with a face barely recognizable—she couldn't help but release a wordless scream of horror.

It was hard to tell how long she stood there, with her hands on her mouth and eyes as wide as they could grow, watching her husband breaking the face of the tied man. It was only when the bile rose to her throat and she bent to the side, holding the wall, and hurled all her dinner out, that she knew she fucked up.

[ANASTASIA]

I tried my best to put on a strong front in front of him, hiding the sheer terror that consumed me as I watched him in the flesh.

It was not an easy feat, let me tell you. To see the man whom I had loved so deeply and the one who hurt me ever deeper. But there was no way I was about to fall short. I would not show weakness. He might have caught up to us now, but I was determined to escape again.

I wanted to break down, to unleash a gut-wrenching cry or a piercing scream. Yet, I found myself utterly incapable of even doing that. If I did, he would see right through me, understanding the immense pain that coursed through my veins upon seeing him again after all these years—how deeply he still affected me.

I held Tati close, wrapping my arm tightly around her, and pulled my son, Ivan Jr., closer to me. They remained still and silent, not panicking or breaking into tears. It often amazed me how mature my children were for their age. Normally, Tati was playful and full of life, but whenever she sensed the tension in the air or saw the strain in my body, she would become quiet and try not to cause any trouble.

I felt Ivan Jr.'s fingers grip tightly onto my hand. When I looked down to check on him, I saw him staring at the man standing across the vast expanse of snow. A pang of emotions surged within me. Was he recognizing his father? When I escaped from my husband's clutches, my children were so young, barely able to comprehend the world around them.

"Ivan, are you okay, sweetheart?" I asked him, using my thumb to gently brush across his cheek. He looked up at me with his dark eyes and nodded in response.

I let out a sigh, surveying our surroundings and trying to make sense of our location. It appeared that the two gangs had chosen to meet in the middle of nowhere. As far as my eyes could see, there was nothing but snow-covered ground and tall, motionless trees.

After Bulkin and Ivan had a brief conversation, Bulkin turned and confidently walked back towards us, his face displaying a smug expression that infuriated me. It didn't seem like he had brought us here just to trap my husband and harm him. No, it seemed like he had something else on his mind.

It was only when Bulkin and his accomplice hopped into their cars and swiftly drove away, leaving us behind, that the realization hit me like a ton of bricks. That jerk had simply delivered us straight into the hands of the man I had fought so hard to escape from.

This was a trade. Not an execution attempt.

Fuck.

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