Page 1 of Crimson Wrath

Chapter 1

Anton

“No!” I hear my own voice as if it’s coming from somewhere else.

Darkness fades, light flickering around as my vision begins to return. The mother of all headaches returns with it.

“Blyad!” I spit out. My voice sounds like sandpaper.

My heart races, pounding against my chest like a caged animal seeking escape. The gunshot echoes in my mind, mingling with Scarlett’s scream, replaying over and over.

She’s dead!

My God, they’ve killed her!

And then I think of Nikolai. I can only pray that they haven’t searched too closely. Haven’t found his secret hiding place. As my mind runs through the possibilities, sweat beads on my forehead and the metallic taste of dread fills my mouth.

Footsteps around me draw my attention back to my looming attacker. I stare at him through a blood haze of rage. It’s a face that’s haunted my dreams, a face I’ve imagined pounding to a pulp. And now he’s right here, within reach…and I’m powerless to inflict the pain he deserves.

Motherfucker!

When I get my hands on you…

“Ah, good. You have come back to join the party. I thought you had decided to leave us,bratan. I almost considered killing the fucker who cracked your skull, thick as it is. But now, I am glad we’re going to have this time to spend…catching up,” he smirks.

“Bratan?” I snarl. “You are no brother to me! You are filth. A fucking murderer of women and children.”

“Ah, that.” He shakes his head. “Always the moral high ground with you…when it suited you, of course. But I suppose you have issues after your wife. Such a pity, Anton,” Volkov sneers, pacing around me. “Seems you lost another woman.” His laughter is harsh. But not as harsh as the memory it drags out.

First Katya.

Now Scarlett.

Jesus, please let Nikolai be safe!

“I wouldn’t bother picking up anotherpupsik, if I was you. Everyone you care for is doomed for death,” he says as if reading my mind. “Then again, you’re not going to live that long, are you?”

“Fuck you,pizda!” I grit out, my lip curling. His fist collides with my jaw, pain splintering through my face. I grit my teeth, masking my response. It’s something I’m accustomed to. Something I revel in. I straighten my head, roll my shoulders and then stare defiantly into his ugly fucking face.

Bring it on!

I’m ready.

The pain is cathartic. I like it. It’s always kept me sharp.

“What was that,zasranets?” He leans in close, his breath fetid on my face. “I thought I heard you beg for mercy.”

“I said fuck you, Volkov.” I spit blood in his face, grinning at him when fury swirls in his flat eyes. He tries to hide it, but I know the fucker too well. My resistance to his taunts is enraging him.

“Always so defiant,” he mocks. A fist to my gut takes my breath away, but I don’t break eye contact. His blows mean nothing compared with what I want to do to him.

“Getting weak, old man, huh?” I laugh when his fist strikes my jaw again. It’s a punishing blow, but I’ve taken worse. Far worse. Volkov was never an enforcer. He needed men like me for that. And he knows it now more than ever as he doles out his worst and barely scratches the surface of my resistance. A resistance that has been bolstered by the rage that was born from Scarlett’s scream. From too many other losses.

“Oh, I’m just getting started,” he sneers, then jabs down sharply into the gaping hole in my leg. I flinch at that. The bullet tore through flesh. Missing bone, I’m sure. But still, it hurts like a motherfucker. I struggle against my restraints, but they only bite deeper into my flesh.

“Got your attention there, didn’t I,mudak?” His laughter is throaty. “Next time, maybe you’ll think twice about challenging yourpakhan. Trying to make me out to be a fool!”

The words have an edge that shows where his weakness lies. His ego must have been crushed when I left his army.

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