Page 70 of Shadows of the Past
Every masked head in the room swivels toward us. I fight down a violent shiver as their collective gaze crawls over my skin, predatory and assessing.
"And the winner is the gentleman at the back of the room for two million dollars! Congratulations!"
It takes several seconds for my stunned brain to process what just happened, to choke back the bitter taste of betrayal rising in my throat.
Maksim breaks the silence first, his voice a low growl. "What the hell are you doing?"
"If you think I'd leave a six-year-old girl to their mercy, you're mistaken, my friend," is all the pakhan replies before turning and striding toward the stage to sign the necessary paperwork.
This will raise questions. Suspicions. Ivan won't believe for a second that Ilya shares his depraved appetites. After signing, the pakhan gives us a subtle nod toward the hallway.
"Word is," Ilya says quietly once we're relatively alone, the thrum of the main room muffled, "Ivan's starting to wonder who keeps snatching these kids from his hands. You've rescued quite a few lately, Maksim. It won't take him long to connect the dots. If he suspects me, it takes the heat off you."
"What about your sister?" The question bursts out of me before I can stop it. He's risking so much.
For a tense moment, the air thickens. I wonder if he even heard me. Then, softly, his voice devoid of its usual command, he says, "She would despise me if she knew I had the chance to save that little girl and didn't. Even if it puts her own life at greater risk."
I really look at him then, trying to see past the elaborate mask. His eyes, visible through the slits, are a deep hazel, shadowed by exhaustion. The slight stubble dusting his jaw makes him appear older, worn. There's a rigid control in his posture, the constant projection of authority and power he must maintain. The scent of cloves and fine liquor clings to him, sharp and expensive. But like Maksim, beneath the dangerous surface, there's still a flicker of something else deep within his gaze. A stubborn remnant of humanity.
"My debts to you are piling up, Ilya," Maksim's voice pulls me sharply from my thoughts.
A grim, humorless smirk touches Ilya's lips behind the mask. "When you finally end him," he says to Max, his voice low and deadly serious, "promise me it will hurt like hell."
We both just nod. There's no question Ivan will suffer. For every scar inflicted, every tear shed, every childhood destroyed, he will scream.
Chapter 25
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Maksim
When we get back to the mansion, Ivan himself is waiting at the top of the stairs, a shadow lurking in the dim light.
"I hear Ilya made an…interesting acquisition tonight."
Of course he already knows. That's his real power—not brute force but the vipers he keeps coiled in his pockets, whispering secrets, killing on command. Destroy one nest, another springs up.
"Yes, an interesting choice for him," I reply, my hand tightening instinctively on Julia's. Her gaze drops to the floor, away from Ivan’s penetrating stare. Never look him in the eyes. I know he could suck the soul right out of you with just a glance.
"Keep an eye on him," Ivan rasps, the order laced with suspicion. "I don't like the timing, coinciding with these recent attacks. We still can't catch the bastards hitting our transports." He turns, dissolving into a wracking cough as he retreats toward his room.
A flicker of bitterness twists inside me. What if fate is cruel enough to take him before I get my revenge?No.If I have to bargain with Death itself to keep him alive for me, I will.
The moment the door clicks shut behind us in our room, some of the crushing weight lifts from my shoulders. But I know tonight was Julia's first real glimpse into the conditions thesechildren endure under Ivan, the raw horror of it. And it gets so much worse than what she saw.
"I can't imagine…standing on that stage," she whispers, her voice barely audible, raw with remembered terror. "Having no power. Being just a piece for someone's collection. Taken only to be hurt. Tortured. Raped." Her voice cracks. "I don’t know what I would have done if they’d put me through that."
The image flashes, Julia in one of those cages, leering eyes crawling over her, and crimson heat floods my vision.
"Never."
The next second, she's slammed against the wall, the breath knocked out of her as my hand clamps possessively around her thigh, hiking the dress up. Goosebumps erupt under my touch, and just like that the chaos, the violence storming inside my head, vanishes, replaced only by her.
Her skin is warm satin beneath my rough fingers. I'm lost in her scent, something sweet like honey and wild like summer storms. The whole damned house could collapse around us right now, and I’d die a happy man, breathing her in.
Her hand fists in my hair, pulling my head down, and my control snaps. My teeth sink into the soft skin of her neck, a bite sharp enough to leave a mark.Good. Let the whole world see she's mine. Let them know no one else can touch her. I know with chilling certainty that if anyone ever tried to take her from me, I wouldn't stop until I'd ground every bone in their body to dust beneath my boot.
Her flawless skin is a stark contrast to my hands, too rough, too scarred, stained with blood that never truly washes away. It's always there, a phantom residue. Any second now, the universe will realize its colossal mistake, snatching her back from mypath. Someone like her, so fiercely good, too good, could never truly choose me, not over freedom, not over safety.
