Serpentine Desires

The predator-148

Blood. It was everywhere.

On my hands, on my shirt, smeared across my fucking face. I reeked of it. The coppery stench clung to me like a second skin, reminding me of every bastard I'd killed tonight and everyone I hadn't. Yet for the first time in my life, it didn't feel like enough. Nothing did.

The mansion was a fucking warzone. Bodies everywhere, blood splattered across my goddamn walls, and here I was, in a hospital hallway that reeked of antiseptic, watching my family unravel.

Alexei Volkov sat outside the ICU, his head buried in his hands, muttering prayers to a God I stopped believing in years ago. Killian Schmidt was pacing like a caged animal, his boots slamming into the floor as he growled curses at the doctors too afraid to come near him.

And me? I stood there like a bloodied fucking mess, looking at the wreckage I called my life. My little bird and my fucking sister were gone. My mother was dying. Tobias Morris—my so-called uncle—dared to show up here, spewing bullshit about how he'd seen this coming.

"You're a goddamn fool, Rara," he said, shaking his head like a disappointed brother. "I told you they were poison. I told you this would happen."

I should've killed him. God knew I wanted to. My fingers itched for the gun at my hip, and my blood boiled at every word that came out of his mouth. But I didn't pull the trigger. Not because I gave a shit about him, but because if I killed him, my mother would be upset—and she was hanging on by a fucking thread.

So I clenched my fists, bit my tongue, and swallowed the rage threatening to choke me.

For the first time in my life, I didn't know what the fuck to do.

The pain in my chest was a raw, gaping wound I couldn't stitch up. It wasn't just my ptichka. It wasn't just Krystina. It was all of it—the chaos, the losses, the goddamn feeling that I was losing control. And I hated it. I fucking hated it.

But I had no choice. There was only one family powerful enough to help me now. Only one man with the resources I needed. And fuck me, I'd already made the call.

My phone buzzed in my hand. I answered without looking at the name.

"What?"

"Is that any way to greet your brother-in-law?" Massimo Bianchi's voice oozed through the line, smug as ever.

"Fuck you, Bianchi," I snapped. "You better have the information, or I'll put a bullet in your useless brain."

"Be careful, Romanovski. It's you who needs my help, not the other way around."

"Is it now? Did I mention Krystina is also kidnapped?"

That struck a nerve. I heard it in the way his breath hitched, just for a second. Good. The bastard needed to remember who the fuck he was dealing with.

"What the fuck are you saying?" His voice was low, dangerous.

"I said what I said." I leaned against the wall, barely able to keep my voice steady. "You have ten minutes to get me the location, or forget about seeing Krystina ever again."

"She's my fucking fiancée," he spat.

"Fiancée," I mocked, letting the word hang in the air like poison. "Not your wife. And my fucking sister. Careful how you play this, Bianchi. I have no patience."

I didn't wait for a response. I hung up, knowing full well that bastard would have the information in less than five minutes. He wasn't stupid—not when it came to her.

Alexei's voice pulled me back to the hallway. He was standing now, his face pale and drawn, his hands shaking as he looked at me.

"This is my fault," he muttered, his voice cracking. "I thought—fuck, I thought if I kept blood away, if I kept the violence away from her, she'd be safe. They'd all be safe."

I didn't respond at first. What the hell was I supposed to say? That he was right? That he was wrong? It didn't fucking matter.

Alexei's fists clenched at his sides. "I want his head, Judas. I want Lucius fucking Morozov's head on a goddamn platter. I want his blood, his bones, his fucking soul. Do you hear me?"

I met his gaze, my voice cold and flat. "You think I don't? You think I don't want to rip his fucking heart out with my bare hands?"

Alexei stepped closer, his eyes wild. "Then why the fuck are we standing here? Why aren't we doing anything?"

"Because," I said slowly, my voice razor-sharp, "I don't move until I know where to strike. And when I do? There won't be anything left of him."

He stared at me, searching for something in my expression. "You better mean that."

I stepped closer, my voice dropping to a deadly whisper. "You think I don't?"

For a moment, there was silence. Just the sound of Killian's boots pacing the floor and the faint beep of machines behind the ICU doors.

And then my phone buzzed again.

Bianchi.

I answered, my voice cold and clipped. "Talk."

"I've narrowed down their location," he said. "But you're not gonna like it."

"I don't give a fuck what I like," I growled. "Send it to me."

There was a pause. "There are two warehouses," he replied in his same cold tone. "One by the rice mill on the east and the other down the hill in the industrial district. The satellite signal's deflecting-there's interference. But there's a huge change they're in one of them."

I clenched my jaw. "Which one?"

"I can't be sure," He sighed. "But I'll head to the east. You take the one down the hill."

"Fuck." My knuckles turned white as I gripped the phone. "Don't play me, Bianchi. If either of us finds them first, you save them. Do you fucking hear me? Even if it risks your life."

"And if I don't?"

"Then forget Krystina," I growled. "You know I'm your only hope if you ever want to marry her. You don't save them, you don't get her. It's that simple."

"Don't go back on your words, Romanovski," I could hear the bastard smirking.

"I want my ptichka alive and back." Words came out harsher than I intended, but I didn't care.

The line went silent for a moment, but I knew Bianchi. He'd do everything to save Krystina. It wasn't her I was worried about, it was my little bird. My ptichka.

"Deal."

The phone went off, I glanced at Alexei, who had been watching me the entire time, his jaw tight with suppressed rage. A silent agreement passed between us. He knew what I was doing, and he trusted me.