Page 27 of The Bratva's Captive

12

MAXIM

Nik accompanied me as we returned to the house. He had yet to stop muttering under his breath, so livid about yet another incident at one of our businesses. I was fed up with this bullshit, too, but whining and complaining wouldn’t do anything but maybe help us vent.

I was past the stage of wanting to vent about this string of attacks and minor grievances. I was determined to know who was behind it all and why. No one strike against us was big enough or bad enough to bring us down. But it wouldn’t stop.

He pushed the door open ahead of me and stormed inside, shaking his head. We’d been called out to one of our restaurants that had been set on fire. While no one had been killed and no irreplaceable items had been lost, business would be stalled for some time. Plus, that particular restaurant happened to be one of our favorites. That alone made it seem like a personal attack.

“I’m sick of these distractions,” I said. Because that was what they felt like. Stupid, petty things designed to annoy us but not to actually harm us.

“Distraction from what, though?” Nik asked, waiting for me to walk alongside him.

“I don’t know.”

As soon as I admitted that, a scream came from upstairs. Nik grabbed my arm as we both looked up at the landing where the double staircases came together. I stiffened, alarmed and waiting for another clue for why my grandmother might make that noise.

Then she did it again, and like a flip had been switched, Nik and I charged forward, racing up the stairs. We both had our guns out as we ran toward the source of trouble. Trouble existed in every facet of our lives, but it wasn’t supposed to follow us in here. Within these walls, we had the security of too many loyal guards, too many well-trained killers and soldiers, to ever have to worry about a danger lurking in our home.

“Go. Go.” I ordered the guards filing from other hallways to precede us. We all hurried as a collective unit, guns at the ready and all senses heightened. Fighting was part of who I was. Violence was a creed I lived by. Hearing my grandmother scream in fear in the direction of my father’s private wing disrupted the usual cool demeanor I wore when I engaged in combat.

After I pushed the door open and entered Father’s room, Nik sprinted ahead. Guards and soldiers flanked us, surrounding his bed as Grandmother backed away clumsily.

“I came in here to talk to him. He said he wanted to rest today after all his travels, but I think…” She shook her head, so scared that she actually showed it for once. “I think someone’s poisoned him.”

Her finger didn’t tremble as she pointed at the syringe lying next to his arm. She lifted her arm steadily, firm and growing rigid with anger as her face tightened into a scowl. “The window.” She pointed again, indicating where the curtains billowed and flew freely in the breeze that came in from the balcony space.

“Go!” I ordered the men, and several rushed to investigate.

She was right to assume someone could’ve come in and out that way. The only other way for someone to have entered was the door we’d just run in through, and no one had been allowed in the house today.

A couple more soldiers went to check on Father. He lay unmoving but breathing, peacefully still but eerily lax. Standing back as Nik hugged our grandmother out of the way, I stared down at the leader of our family and knew.

Thiswas what the distractions were for. Someone had been planning to poison my father.

I hadn’t been able to ignore that feeling of cautious peace, the calm before the storm. Now, the storm was upon us. This was no idle attack. This wasn’t a small incident. Someone had snuck in here to poison Grigory Ivanov. And there was no other way to interpret this attempt on his life than to believe someone wanted to take us all down.

“Get the doctor,” I commanded the men. “Now!”

Tense and furious that someone had tried to kill our leader, I stayed back and out of the way as the doctor came. He tended to my father, confirming that he was alive, but he would need to be monitored.

Everything passed in a blur. Details merged together as a hazy shift of time that I had no desire to track. Almost trancelike, I remained nearby and supervised my father’s care. We had resources like no other, and with the doctor and his assistants that we kept on our payroll at all times, it wasn’t necessary to call for an ambulance and relocate him. If any procedures were needed, we would transport him, but the doctor on our staff had some equipment on hand.

“I don’t want to risk it,” he said, looking back at me. “We should take him in and make sure that he won’t suffer a cardiac event.”

I nodded once, prepared to step in and call the shots. I was the eldest, and that was expected of me. By the time word had spread to Damon and Saul, they were ready to take Father to the hospital for expedited care. Nik and I went along, and throughout the wait for answers with men surrounding us at the facility, we remained tense and bracing for news.

Hours later, after all the diagnostic tests and procedures, the team of doctors said that Father could rest and recover at home. It was safer—not only for him because of the security we’d ramped up here after his poisoning, but also for the ordinary staff and patients at the hospital who could be hurt if someone went after Father again.

He was brought back, and as a group with Grandmother and my brothers, we sat down to listen to the doctor who would be here with around-the-clock care for him.

“He will recover,” he stated first. “Be certain of that.”

I exhaled a long breath of relief.

“The agent that was used on him caused him to suffer something that would resemble a stroke, and he will need time to recoverfrom the effects of that on his cardiovascular and nervous systems.” He went on to explain in greater detail how the poison that had been injected into him rendered him unconscious almost immediately, but he didn’t suffer with pain throughout the experience. With a longer discussion about what would be required for his recovery plan, I knew that he would be out of commission for a lengthy duration. Not weeks, but potentially months.

We waited for the doctor to leave before I addressed the men who were in charge of the security at the residence.

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