Page 50 of Conquer
Chapter Fifteen
As it turns out, he called Milton. The man must be a doctor of some kind because he stitches me back up in no time, but with a stern warning as he packs up his supplies. “Rip these, and you’ll have a nasty set of scars to look forward to.”
Adequately cowed, I lie flat as the two men exit the bedroom, heading downstairs.
And the second they’re out of earshot, I slither onto the floor and practically crawl to the mouth of the stairs, straining my ears to listen.
“So, I’m beginning to suspect that youdidn’tcause Maxim’s headaches in Moscow,” Milton declares, his voice drifting from the direction of the kitchen. “The attack was too vicious. Even you aren’tthatbloody ruthless. He managed to salvage what he could of the supply, but the setback will take months to fully recover from. I suspect that was the aim all along—he’ll be distracted for a while, at least.”
“Good,” Vadim says with chilling vitriol. “Maybe the bastard will finally realize that I’m not the only Boogeyman lurking in the shadows.”
“Trust me,” Milton insists with a harsh laugh, “he is well aware of that. Anatoli is still ‘lurking’ as you put it. Even now, I bet the old fucker is itching to get back into the game. Especially after losing Sevastyn.”
“Dear old grandfather?” Vadim says with a hostility that makes me suspect he doesn’t cherish this particular family member the way I do my old “Pop-Pop.” “I will admit I’ve left the old bastard alive solely because he torments little Maxi so damn well. And, perhaps I’d been arrogant enough to assume that, with Sevastyn dead, he couldn’t get up to much trouble on his own.”
The viciousness in his tone is chilling—a reminder of the cold aspects of his personality the fatherly tendencies in him obscure so well.
“Enough,” Milton scolds. “Let me tell you why I’m here. You remember when you told me about your problem?”
“Irina,” Vadim hisses. “You’ve tracked her?”
“Someone who goes by that name anyway, yes. You won’t like what I’ve learned, though,” he adds gruffly. “Especially where your daughter is concerned.”
Vadim sucks in a breath, and I imagine his eyes taking on that cold, ruthless gleam I’ve wisely grown wary of. “Tell me.”
“She’s a prominent player in the Circle. What’s left of it, anyway. You mentioned Sevastyn? Well, without him at its head, the trade’s been all but splintered,” Milton says, his voice wracked with utter loathing.
And my stomach turns. Circle. Trade.Do they mean the horrific crimes Vadim suffered as a child? A slave trade.
“Your Irina’s found herself scrambling for territory,” Milton continues. “Though, her come-up was relatively quick, to begin with. The bitch got her hands on a large sum of money in a fairly short timeframe a few years back. Now, she runs her own ring—not with children, but women. All unwilling, exploited, or sold, nonetheless. She trades them to the highest bidder and has made quite the name for herself, mainly using aliases, mind you, but my contacts are clever. I’m sure it’s her. She prefers to operate primarily under the name ‘The Madam.’”
“Fils de pute!Son of a bitch,” Vadim snarls. A faint thud resonates throughout the house as if he slammed his fist against a firm surface like a table. Or the wall. “And she has the nerve to seek me out? To toy withme. I’ll kill her—”
“You may not have to,” Milton suggests. “She’s made plenty of enemies for herself. Give me time, and I’m sure I can spin the right kind of trap. Hell, you might be able to sellherfor a profit.”
My heart stops. Given the man’s grim tone, something tells me that wasn’t a figurative statement.
“Don’t joke,” Vadim counters, and I manage to breathe again. He sounds disgusted by the suggestion, at least. Or is that pure rage coloring his voice? “My only concern is Magdalene. I won’t let that bitch harm her—”
“Neither will I,” Milton swears, his voice hard. “If you’re antsy, I was able to track down a lead on the orphanage she came from. Ask around, and you may find more information. The identity of who alerted you to her, at least… Because here is the part you really won’t like—two years ago, rumor is ‘The Madam’ was looking to traffic a little girl. Caused quite the stir if you can imagine. Her aim wasn’t the trade, mind you. Just the black-market adoption circuit—”
“Like that makes it any fucking better!” Vadim’s voice breaks. He sounds horrified. Gutted. It takes everything I have—and the fact that I’m terrified to stand up—not to run down to him, eavesdropping be damned. “I was hoping the bitch had given her up out of…I don’t know,love? For Magdalene’s sake. How can a child face the fact that their own mother wanted to sell her like chattel?”
“Wedid,” Milton says in a tone that makes me suspect he too has a traumatic past behind him. One comparable to Vadim’s. Or worse. “And we fucking survived, didn’t we? So will she. She has you. And if you want this information, maybe you can find out who did rescue her. And why.”
He leaves the offer in the air, and by the time the two men return to the foyer, I’m not sure whether Vadim has accepted the information or not.
As Milton leaves, I slither back toward the bedroom as quickly as I dare. I nearly make it to the bed when a set of heavy footsteps breaches the threshold, and a disapproving voice rings out, “Caught you.”
“Damn it.” I risk glancing at him, my eyes bug-wide, my lower lip protruding. Somehow, it’s easy to suppress the horror of what I’ve heard. Too easy. Denial. “Pleasedon’t punish me. Too hard. We can start with a spanking.”
“Insolent witch.” He cracks a smile despite the concern twisting his features into a haggard, grim expression that tugs at my heart like nothing else. Crossing to me, he takes me into his arms but doesn’t set me down right away. His eyes stare into mine, demanding an answer to a question he doesn’t ask out loud just yet.
Did I overhear?
And if so…
Am I bothered by what I’ve learned?
