Page 67 of Shadows of the Past
"Julia saved her life two years ago," Maksim says, his tone still carefully neutral, but I don't miss the undercurrent of fierce pride. "If she hadn't been there, your daughter would be rotting in the ground right now." He lets that sink in. "In fact, she has ten whip scars across her back to prove it," he adds, venom dripping from each word, aimed not at Vlad but at himself.
I look at him then, the fury and self-loathing etched so clearly on his face it steals my breath. Before he can retreat further into himself, before I can think, my pinky hooks around his.
We've been a team since day one, and we'll be one until the last. Maybe these two years in that madhouse did break something in me, but I know it in my bones: nothing this mandoes could scare me enough to leave him. Even if that's exactly what he wants. Every cold shoulder, every harsh word, it's all designed to make me run. Too bad he doesn't understand he's not the only possessive one around here. The moment I chose to stay, chose him over escaping with the children…I marked him as mine.
Even if he can't love me the way I crave, even if his demons drag him back into the abyss just as he claws toward the light, even when he convinces himself he doesn't deserve this…this connection we share.
"Just say what you need," Vlad whispers, the fight completely drained from his voice, leaving only weary resignation.
His gaze fixed on Vlad, but his fingers still locked with mine, Maksim lays out our proposal, our mission.
"You need money," the man says, looking like he's aged a decade right before our eyes.
"Not exactly," Maksim counters, "though money is always useful. This is about your reach, your influence. You're the only man with real power who dared to attack Ivan's territory seeking vengeance. I guarantee you, Ivan noticed. But more importantly, I saw how your attack affected him: fear. I've known that monster for over fifteen years, Vlad. I’ve never seen fear touch his eyes until now."
Vlad seems adrift in his own grief, then his gaze sharpens. "Bring my daughter back," he says, his voice raw. "And you'll have everything. My money, my network, my soldiers. Whatever you need to tear that bastard down."
He can't be serious, can he?With all his resources, why hasn't he tried to get her back himself? As if sensing my unspoken questions, Vlad continues, the words heavy with shame.
"I don't want this life anymore," he confesses, his voice thick. "I'm the reason she was taken. An enemy of mine back in Belgrade…he fed information to the lowlifes who grabbed her and her friend. Told them they were daughters of one of his soldiers who'd crossed him. My wife…she faded away last year. Stopped eating, stopped leaving the house, just…gave up. I didn't just lose Andrea that day. I lost everything. My whole family, my soul. I just want…I need a shred of light back in my life."
The raw honesty is chilling. He means it. But the weight of his request is crushing. Infiltrating the home of one of Ivan's powerful associates, extracting a girl without triggering an all-out war?
"Okay," Maksim agrees, his voice dangerously calm. "But you need to maintain appearances. Stay in power, publicly at least. Ivan will investigate who's causing trouble. He can't suspect it's us."
For a fleeting second, I want to grab Maksim, shake him, ask if he's truly thought this through. This isn't some distant operation that Ivan can ignore. We'd be snatching one of his victims, practically from under his nose, just miles away. If he finds out… I slam the door on that thought. I can’t think of the consequences.
"Alright," Vlad agrees, exhaling a shaky breath. "Just promise me one thing. When Ivan dies, promise me he'll suffer. Every single second of it."
"There won't be an inch of skin left on his bones," Maksim vows, and the cold, final promise in his voice makes my own skin crawl.
As we're escorted back outside, my mind races. How the hell are we going to pull this off? The villa belonging to the monster holding Andrea is just over twelve miles from our house.
Max runs extractions like this all the time, but never this close to Ivan's proximity. Never this risky. He’s always been meticulous about avoiding suspicion.
"We go tomorrow night," Maksim decides, his jaw set. "Just us three – you, me, Akim. If things go sideways, Julia, your only job is to get Andrea out and contact Ilya. Understood?"
"You’ve never told me," I start, the question bubbling up again, "why doesn't Ilya just take Ivan out? He helps us with the kids, gets them to safety. As pakhan, surely he has the power."
Silence stretches between us for a few tense moments. A familiar sting of rejection surfaces, the thought that he still doesn't trust me enough, that there are parts of his world, his alliance with the head of the Moscow Bratva, kept locked away from me.
"Years ago," Maksim finally says, his voice low, gravelly, "someone took Ilya's sister. Ivan is the only one alive who knows where she's hidden. Every single week, until the day Ivan dies, he has to make a specific call. If he misses it, Ilya's sister vanishes. Permanently."
A sharp pang hits my chest. If it were one of the twins…I know I’d burn the world down to get her back. I can't fathom Ilya's agony. All that power, the resources of the Bratva at his command, yet utterly helpless, chained to the whims of a diseased old monster who preys on children and trafficks them like cattle.
The chime of an incoming message breaks the heavy silence. I watch the face of the man who somehow stole my heart and keeps it tucked beside his own.
His gaze lifts, meeting mine, dark and intense. "Change of plans," he says. "We have an auction tonight."
Chapter 24
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Julia
When we get back, I rush into the kitchen to grab something to eat before the auction. Zoya is chopping vegetables at the white marble island. I've often wondered about her, why she’s so quiet, so withdrawn, but my gaze lands on the gloves she wears, reaching up to her elbows.
"Bad day?" I ask tentatively, recalling what Akim said about her episodes of discomfort.
