Chapter 29: Dark Obsession: Chapter 29

Molina sneers at me, his eyes crawling over me with a smug, sick amusement.

“You keep that beautiful ass right where it is, querida. I’ll handle your brothers then be right back to continue the show.” He turns on his heel and steps out, the door slamming behind him. A moment later, Claudio grins at me through the glass before throwing one last punch into Grigori’s gut then following after Molina.

They’re gone but their evil still hangs thick in the room. Grigori and I are both stuck in these damn chairs, and he looks like he’s barely hanging on by a thread, his face is bloodied, bruised, and his eyes are hollow with pain.

“Grigori…” I whisper under my breath, straining against my bindings, trying to catch his eye through the glass.

Then, to my utter shock, he flexes his arms, gripping his wrists with such intensity that the ropes around them snap. With a pained grunt, he hoists himself up from the chair, each movement fierce and full of that incredible, stubborn strength that only he possesses.

He catches my eye, lifting a finger to his lips to make me stay quiet. Moving with swift purpose, he grabs one of the discarded torture tools off the table and wedges it into the lock on his door, jiggling it with a precision that makes my heart beat faster in anticipation.

Finally the lock clicks, and he swings the door open without a sound. Within seconds, he’s at the door to my room, working that same tool into my lock.

The door opens, and he steps in, that familiar, wry smirk on his battered face as his eyes land on me. His gaze softens, and there’s a spark of warmth there that sends a wave of relief crashing over me.

“Good to see you, princess.”

He unties me and I throw myself into his arms, holding him tightly. He grunts in surprise, then lets out a low groan of pain.

I pull back, horrified. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

He just laughs, brushing it off. “There’s no pain I wouldn’t endure for you.”

I roll my eyes, though there’s a warmth blooming in my chest. “You know, you’d sound a lot cornier if you didn’t look like you got hit by a bus.”

He gives me a weak smile, wincing a little as he shifts his jaw. “I’d kiss you, but…” He glances down at himself, all bruises, and cuts, yet, somehow, he’s still standing strong.

“Grigori,” I say softly, my heart pounding, “I love you.”

His eyes soften and he takes my hand. “I love you, too, Elena.”

The moment stretches between us, and I feel like my heart might burst. For once, it feels simple—just me, him, and a feeling too big to keep inside.

Just then, harsh reality crashes back. Gunfire cracks in the distance, echoing down the hall, and we both tense. My brothers are here, and with any luck, this nightmare is about to end, but only if we survive the violence needed to end it.

“We’ve gotta go,” Grigori says, his voice full of urgency. “Stay close to me.”

He takes the lead, his hand gripping mine as he scans the halls, his senses on high alert. His body may be beaten, but his spirit is unbroken. Each step is careful, every corner a potential danger.

We’re almost at the end of the corridor when another round of gunfire booms from somewhere ahead. We exchange a glance, steeling ourselves for whatever’s coming.

“How many do you think?” I ask, voice just above a whisper.

He doesn’t hesitate, his eyes scanning the path ahead. “Dozens. Molina’s men, Ivanov soldiers—they’re all here.”

A shiver runs through me. “So this is it then?”

He nods, eyes meeting mine. “Whatever happens here today will determine everything. There’s no turning back.”

I swallow, letting that sink in. The future of the city, our family, our lives, all hang in the balance. But with Grigori at my side, I feel steady, confident, and strong, even as gunfire explodes around us.

“Ready, princess?”

“More than ready. Let’s go show them who they’re dealing with.”

A few cartel guys sprint past a hallway up ahead. Grigori pulls me to the side, his grip firm on my arm. He leans in, voice low and calm.

“I’ve got an idea. Drop to the ground, scream, and hold your ankle like you’re hurt.”

I blink at him, dumbfounded. “What?”

“Just do it. Play the helpless female.” He’s dead serious, and there’s no time for questions.

I let out a bloodcurdling scream and drop down, clutching my ankle like I’m in agony. I wince, but his plan makes sense; he’s setting a trap.

Grigori ducks behind a nearby crate, his eyes sharp and ready.

Sure enough, the three cartel guys double back, running right for me. They stop a few feet away, weapons at the ready, looking me up and down.

One sneers at me. “You.”

I give them my best bratty smirk. “Yeah, me. Disappointed?”

One of them glances down the hallway then back at me, eyes narrowed. “Where is the man?”

“Oh, you mean Grigori?” I let out a dramatic sigh. “Bleeding out in the interrogation room. Your friends did a real number on him.”

They mutter to each other in Spanish, and I can see they’re undecided as to what to do with me. Maybe they think they’ve won or maybe they’re discussing whether or not to drag me back to Molina as a prize.

Too bad for them because their hesitation allows Grigori to step out unnoticed from the shadows.

He’s a blur of movement, faster than they can react. He lunges at the closest one, twisting the gun out of his hands and jamming it into his gut, pulling the trigger. The guy collapses with a gurgled gasp, and the other two whip around, faces white with shock.

Before they can even raise their weapons, Grigori’s on them. One goes down with a swift kick, the other hits the floor from a punch so brutal it echoes down the hall.

Grigori straightens, wipes a smear of blood off his knuckles, then gives me a cocky grin. ‘See? That wasn’t so hard.”

He hands me a sleek pistol, then grabs a machine gun for himself. “One of these days, you’ll have to trust me with one of those,” I say, tilting my head at the weapon in his hands.

We climb a narrow staircase, emerging onto a balcony that overlooks the entire warehouse floor. The chaos unfolds before us like a scene from a movie—dozens of Ivanov and Molina soldiers are battling below, hurling themselves behind crates and shelves as they exchange fire.

Bullets whiz past, hitting metal and ricocheting with terrifying thuds. Through one of the dusty windows, I spot a small fleet of Ivanov vehicles surrounding the place, soldiers pouring out and joining the fray, Yuri among them.

My eyes scan the crowd below, and relief floods through me when I catch sight of Lev and Luk, both of them fully armed and commanding the Ivanov army. But there’s no sign of Alexei, and I feel a stab of worry.

Grigori places a firm hand on my arm, pulling my attention back.

“Focus. We need to find Sanchez and Molina. They’re the only ones who matter right now.”

I nod, swallowing back my fear, and we make our way down the stairs, keeping close to the wall. About halfway down, we stop dead as an unwelcome familiar face appears at the bottom.

It’s Claudio Sanchez flanked by a small group of his goons. He stands in front of us with a cocky, twisted grin plastered across his face.

“Shit,” I mutter, my fingers tightening around the pistol.

Grigori tenses beside me, eyes narrowing as he assesses the situation. Sanchez’s grin only widens as he looks us over, clearly delighted at his good fortune. He and his men raise their guns, his face lighting up in sick delight as he takes us in.

“Well, well, well,” he sneers, voice dripping with satisfaction. “I was half-expecting you two to crawl off like the cowards you are, tails tucked between your legs. Looks like the beauty and her beast actually stayed to fight.”

Grigori steps forward, saying, “Ivanovs look out for their own.”

Sanchez barks a laugh, waving his gun in the air.

“How sweet,” he mocks. “And convenient. Saves me the trouble of picking you off one by one. I’ll kill you right here together.” He raises his pistol, eyes dark and deadly. “As fun as it was to watch you squirm, I’m done playing games.”

He gives a sharp command in Spanish, and his men raise their guns, cold and focused. Sanchez is about to finish what he started. My heart pounds, and I grip my pistol tight, knowing I have to try, even if it means—

Pop.

A shot rings out, piercing the tense silence. For a split second, no one moves. Then, Sanchez’s face contorts with confusion. He raises a hand to his chest as blood pours between his fingers. His mouth opens, a strangled sound escaping as he staggers back, his expression one of pure disbelief.

He drops to his knees, his pistol slipping from his hand, clattering uselessly to the ground. His men stare, equally stunned, as their boss crumples forward, his blood pooling beneath him on the concrete floor.

Grigori and I exchange a look, both of us equally bewildered.

What the hell just happened?

Relief floods through me as I spot Alexei and his men approaching, their guns raised, faces fierce and focused. I almost collapse with gratitude. Alexei meets my gaze and gives a quick nod before issuing a command in Russian.

In a smooth, controlled movement, his squad opens fire, cutting down the rest of the shocked cartel guards. Bullets slice through the air, the remaining men barely getting a chance to react before crumpling to the floor.

As the last of them falls, Alexei and his men rush over, his eyes searching my face with an intensity I haven’t seen before. Without a word, he pulls me into a fierce hug, holding me close.

“Damn it, Elena,” he mutters into my hair, voice thick with emotion. “I was so goddamn worried about you. About both of you.”

Grigori nods at him, giving him a handshake that’s more like a grip of mutual survival. “Good to see you, Alexei.”

Alexei steps back and gives me a quick once-over, probably to confirm that I’m really in one piece. “We were all going insane,” he says. “Glad to see you’re okay.”

Grigori and I quickly fill him in on what happened with Molina and Sanchez, and in turn, Alexei fills us in on how he found us.

“We tracked Grigori’s phone back in New York,” Alexei explains, glancing at Grigori with a sly grin. “The second it pinged near Chicago, we knew where to start looking. Then it was just a matter of squeezing some contacts who owed me a favor or two.”

Grigori raises an eyebrow, impressed. “Nice work. Never thought I’d be thankful you’re a bloodhound.”

Alexei winks, brushing off the compliment. “Hey, just earning my keep.”

For the first time in what feels like forever, I take a deep breath and let it out slowly. The odds don’t seem impossible anymore.

I’m ready to go, adrenaline pumping, heart racing. Then, out of the corner of my eye, I catch movement, subtle but unmistakable. It’s Sanchez. Somehow, against all odds, he’s still alive, pulling himself up from the ground like some twisted zombie.

His face is bloodied, eyes unfocused, but there’s a glint of determination in them. And worse—he’s got a pistol in his hand, and it’s pointed directly at Grigori.

Time slows. I don’t think, I don’t hesitate. I raise my gun and squeeze the trigger. The shot echoes, sharp and final. Sanchez’s body jerks, and he collapses back to the ground, this time for good.

For a moment, the room is frozen. Alexei and Grigori both turn to me, eyes wide with shock. A grin slowly spreads across Grigori’s face, that familiar, irresistible smirk I know so well.

“That, princess,” he says, a spark of pride in his voice, “is exactly what I meant when I said never hesitate.”

Alexei lets out a low whistle, shaking his head in impressed disbelief. “Well, damn, Elena. Remind me never to get on your bad side.”

I can’t help the grin that spreads across my face. But there’s no time to bask in the moment. Alexei looks between us, his expression shifting back to deadly focus. “Enough sentiment. Let’s move. It’s time to find Molina and end this for good.”