Dance of Madness: Chapter 39

“Not tapping out on me, are you?”

I grit my teeth as the motherfucker grabs a fist of my hair, yanking my head back and leering down into my face.

“Or are you trying to sleep?” Levka grins, tracing the bloodied tip of his knife across my jugular.

Three of the Kalishnik guards chuckle darkly. The fourth stands to the side, his face grim as he side eyes Levka from behind.

I’m getting the sense that there’s some…confusion about the hierarchy within the Kalishnik ranks. I’m willing to bet that most of the men who work for Marko are loyal to him to a degree not even the Italian mafia can fully understand.

The Bratva is like that. I mean, it’s literally Russian for “brotherhood”, and they take that shit as law. You don’t just work for a Pakhan. He’s literally your father, leader, and master once you’ve been brought into the brotherhood.

Except these three fucks, and I’d bet a few more, don’t seem to have gotten the memo that it’s Marko who’s in charge—not Levka, even if he sat on the throne temporarily while Marko was in treatment four years ago.

“See?” Levka smirks to his men. “His eyes are closing.”

“The only thing putting me to sleep is your fucking voice,” I growl. “Blah, blah, fucking blah. For fuck’s sake, Levka, do you ever shut⁠—”

Blood explodes from my mouth and sprays the floor as my head snaps sideways.

Worth it—and for the record, I’m not sleepy. It’s just that there’s so much goddamn blood running down my face that it’s hard to keep them open.

He hits me once. Twice. I grunt as he grabs my hair, bringing the edge of his blade back to my throat.

“As much fun as this is,” he purrs, “I think the game has run its course.”

“I don’t think your brother would be too pleased⁠—”

“What does or does not please my brother is not my concern right now,” Levka spits. “Things sometimes get out of control during a torture, da? Maybe you tried to escape, and, well…” He shrugs eloquently. “Things happen.”

I tense as the blade presses to my jugular.

“Sir…” The odd man out—the guard who clearly isn’t sucking Levka’s dick like the others—steps forward. “Mr. Kalishnik ordered us to leave him be until he returns.”

Levka whirls on the man. “What is your last name?”

The guard tightens his stance, but stands tall. “Damaskin, sir.”

“And do you know what my last name is?” Levka snarls. “Fucking Kalishnik.”

He backhands the guard, almost knocking him off his feet. The other three snicker as Levka straightens up.

“Next time you question my authority, I’ll send men to Russia to kill your fucking mother. Understand?”

The man nods stiffly. “My apologies, sir.”

Levka dismisses him with a grunt, turning back to me. “Where were…ahhh, yes.”

The blade goes to my throat again and Levka grins at me.

“I take it you liked my home video,” he rasps.

My body hums with violence as I glare through the dripping blood at him.

“Though you didn’t do what you were supposed to do.” He clucks his tongue. “Never send a pussy Italian to do a Russian’s job. Seems I’ll have to⁠—”

The door to the cinderblock-walled room slams open. Levka whirls, and my eyes widen when Marko storms in with Rurik.

…And she’s right behind them.

Milena.

“NERO!” she screams.

Her eyes immediately go to me, and she starts to bolt past her father toward me.

Marko’s arm snaps out, stopping her instantly.

“Papa—!”

“Stay back,” he hisses.

Her eyes fly to mine.

Her eyes fly to mine.

I nod.

Stay.

She needs to stay where she is right now, because she has no idea how much danger she’s in just being in this room right now.

Marko’s face hardens as his eyes lock onto Levka.

“I’ve just seen a very interesting video, brother.”

Levka frowns. Then he smiles and cocks his head at his brother.

“Oh?” He turns back to me, twirling the knife in his hand. “You missed some of the fun we were having with⁠—”

“I told you to leave him alone until I got back,” Marko says quietly.

Levka turns to him with a shrug. “Come now, brother. You know how these things go. The blood, it gets heated!” He grins. “Remember that time in London, when we were fresh from Moscow? That Chechnyan motherfucker…what was his⁠—”

“What happened the night that Antonio and Natalia De Luca were killed,” Marko growls darkly, his eyes sliding to me. I expect fury and hatred in the eyes of the man who’s spent the better part of the day torturing me.

Instead, I see horror, remorse and sadness.

“What happened the night this man’s parents were taken from him,” he presses.

“What happened?” Levka snorts. “Vengeance happened. Those fucking cockroaches had a sniper sitting outside this very house, ready to take you out, or God help us, my sweet niece, your daughter⁠—”

“What happened to this sniper, Levka,” Marko continues.

Levka shrugs. “Tortured. Then killed. Then disposed of, in several pieces, to dishonor him in the same way he attempted to dishonor this family.”

“Why wasn’t I told about any of this?”

My eyes dart to Milena, and she turns, her eyes locking with mine.

I’m…not in good shape. I’m battered, broken, and I’ve lost a lot of blood. But when we look at each other?

I could get up right now and fucking dance.

“If you’ll recall,” Levka says cautiously, “you were sick and in bed. We even thought we might lose you back then.”

“So sick that I couldn’t be part of a conversation about the punishment for an attempt on my life? Worse, on Milena’s?”

“Brother.” Levka sighs. “You put me in charge back then for a reason. And as the head of the family⁠—”

“Acting head,” Marko says tightly. “I wasn’t so sick that I couldn’t be included.”

“Well, I apologize,” Levka sighs, smirking slightly. “I should have dragged you from your sick bed into a torture chamber four years ago.”

Marko’s eyes narrow.

“Tell me, Levka—why did we use mercenaries to go after the De Lucas?”

Levka shrugs. “As you always say, when you shoot at a king, you cannot miss.”

The room goes silent. Marko’s eyes spark.

“So,” he growls. “They were mercenaries.”

Levka frowns, realizing he’s fucked.

“They—they were Oleg Panachev’s men,” he says hastily. “Again, as you say, we wouldn’t want to use our men in case⁠—”

“Oleg Panachev, who has since moved operations back to Russia,” Marko says.

Levka’s jaw works. “Well…yes.”

“I thought you were agreeing with me before that they were mercenaries,” Marko growls.

His brother sucks his teeth, his brow furrowing. “I was—confused,” he sighs after a few seconds, blowing air through his lips. “It’s been a long week, Marko, what with Milena being taken by this piece of shit…”

He turns and kicks me hard in the shin.

“Stop it!” Milena hisses, taking a step toward me.

Levka sighs. “And the warehouse attack by that snake Debolsky.” He tsks again. “My head is in many places, brother.”

There’s a dramatic shift in the room. Suddenly, Marko is no longer questioning what I already know. I think he’s just realized his suspicion is entirely correct.

“Rurik,” Marko says quietly. “Who knows about what happened tonight with Debolsky and our warehouse?”

“Just you, your daughter, and me,” Rurik grunts. “No one else.”

Levka scowls. “Of course I know too!” he snaps. “My men texted me while you were all upstairs!”

Marko’s nostrils flare. “There’s no service down here, brother. That’s intentional. Rurik didn’t even hear about the warehouse until he came up to find me and check in on Milena and got service again.”

Everything goes quiet.

There’s a moment right before a storm breaks over the world. A frozen second in time as the clouds roil and surge, as the electrons gather and ignite. A tick of absolute stillness right before the thunder clap and the crack of lightning that splits heaven in half.

That’s what the next three seconds are: a frozen, still moment.

And then comes the storm, like hell unleashed.

Everything explodes at once.

Levka draws his weapon, and swings the barrel of the gun right to my face in slow motion.

The rest of the room is pure chaos as literally everyone else except Milena and I draw guns and start screaming at each other.

But I’m not looking at any of that. I’m not even looking at Levka.

I’m looking at Milena.

I’m looking at the woman I love, because if this is the end, I want her face to be the last goddamn thing I see on this Earth.

Marko is roaring at his brother to lower his fucking gun. Levka is yelling back that I’m a fucking bastard, that Marko is being swayed by his daughter’s emotions.

She bolts as the screaming and yelling hits its crescendo, shoving away from her father and Rurik and sprinting toward me.

I watch in slow motion as Levka catches the moment, his eyes widening and his mouth opening in a slow-motion yell as he yanks his gaze back to me.

His hand tightens around the gun⁠—

“NO!”

Suddenly, Milena is between her uncle and me, blocking my body with hers, Levka’s gun pointed right at her chest.

“If you’re going to shoot him!” she screams, “you’ll have to do it through me!!”

“LEVKA!!”

Marko’s face twists with horror, and his gun swivels, trained right on his brother.

“LOWER YOUR FUCKING WEAPON!” he bellows.

Levka eyes Marko coldly.

“You do not have what it takes, brother,” he hisses, the gun still aimed at Milena.

It feels like a high, whining alarm sound begins to ring in the back of my mind. Like anxiety incarnate, slowly growing louder and louder, until it’s thundering like a jet engine in my ears.

“To lead takes the will to do terrible things, brother,” Levka rasps. “And you, Marko, lack that will.”

“I swear to Christ, Levka!” Marko roars. “If you do not lower your gun, I will put this whole fucking clip through your head!”

Levka grits his teeth, his eyes on Milena. “Move, malyshka.”

“No,” she snarls. “Not a fucking chance. I told you: if you’re going to shoot him, you’re going to have to do it through⁠—”

“So be it.”

I’m vaguely aware of a roar tearing from my throat as a gun goes off like thunder.

But it’s Levka who cries out, jerking sideways and spinning around as blood erupts from a hole in his shoulder.

That’s when all hell really breaks loose.

It’s Marko who’s just hit Levka. But even as he does that, the three other guards start firing.

Marko, Rurik, and the fourth man shoot back.

But fuck all that.

With a scream of pain I lurch to my feet despite the broken toes, the smashed fingers, the blood in my eyes, the fact that I’m still tied to the fucking chair.

I ignore all that and crash into Milena, knocking her to the ground and landing on top of her.

She screams, clutching at me and curling into a ball as the deafening gunfire thunders through the concrete room, dust and blood and sparking ricochets spraying everywhere before it all suddenly goes still.

I can barely hear shit over the ringing in my ears, can barely see through the concrete dust as I grunt and roll off Milena.

Holy fuck.

Everyone’s down.

Levka is writhing in a pool of his own blood, staring at the ceiling. The three guards who were loyal to him are all dead with holes in their heads. The fourth guy, Damaskin, is also down and unmoving.

Rurik looks like he’s looking death in the face, lying on his side, his hands pressed to two holes in his chest.

But it’s her father, slumped against a wall, clutching a wound to his stomach, that Milena bolts to.

“Papa!” she sobs, holding him close, her face a mask of agony. “Papa, hold on!”

There’s movement in my peripheral vision. My eyes swivel sideways, and I stiffen when I see Levka slowly reaching for the gun by his outstretched hand.

“Milena…”

My voice is gone, either from roaring earlier, or the beatings, or maybe the gallon of vodka that got poured over my face. Regardless, I can’t speak, and Levka is inches away from that fucking gun.

Pure adrenaline explodes through my body. Maybe it’s the last surge of energy I’ll ever feel.

…Maybe I don’t give a fuck, so long as it means keeping her from harm.

I flex, straining at the ropes as pure pain surges through my whole body. My vision cuts in and out. Blood leaks into my eyes.

I keep pulling. Keep wrenching. Keep fighting.

For her.

My shoulder is definitely dislocated—numb, pulsing with raw pain, and my arm on that side is limp.

But right now, that’s actually an advantage.

I twist, gritting my teeth as searing pain almost takes my consciousness away. The ropes slip, greased by blood and sweat. My eyes roll back and agony threatens to drag me into the darkness.

…Just as my arm slips free.

Limp, but free.

And I only need one.

Milena is still cradling her father. She doesn’t see Levka inching toward the gun.

I get my feet under me, trying to stand up with the chair still tied to one arm and around my ribs. But just as I’m finding my footing in the pool of slick blood, Levka’s fingers curl around the gun.

No.

“There’s a new king of this empire,” he rasps as he swings the gun around and aims it right at Milena. “And he has no need for a princess.”

I kick my feet, hurling myself across the room with a roar, throwing my whole body at Levka.

I crash into him, sending his shot into the ceiling before I go toppling over him and land with a sickening crunch on the ground.

My vision dims.

My pulse slows to a crawl.

That was it. That was the last I have inside me.

It’s only then, when my eyes struggle to focus, that I realize something horrible.

…It wasn’t enough.

Levka groans, blood flowing from his bullet wound and the gash in the head I just gave him. But he still gets to his feet, stumbling toward me like a drunk.

His foot slams into my face, spinning me around to face a screaming, sobbing Milena.

I hear the dull metallic click of a hammer being drawn, and my eyes swivel up to see Levka standing over me, pointing a gun at my face.

I’m so fucking sorry, Milena.

I tried.

I love you.

“Yes, there is a new king,” he snarls, swaying unsteadily on his feet. “And he has no need for a prince carrying a grudge, either.”

BANG!

Three things happen at once:

A gun fires.

Milena screams.

And Levka grunts as blood explodes from his chest.

The gun falls from his hand as he drops to his knees, toppling to the floor.

“It would seem I missed the fun.”

What the actual fuck.

I roll my bleary gaze toward the doorway, where Kir is standing, in a goddamn suit, a smoking gun in his hand.

“Papa!”

I roll my head the other way, a faint smile touching my lips as I watch Milena help Marko up, his face grim and his teeth gritted as he holds his bleeding abdomen.

He glances at Kir and nods curtly. Kir nods back, then calmly walks over to where Levka is pathetically squirming on the ground in a rapidly growing pool of blood, still trying to reach for his gun.

Kir aims at him, but then a voice stops him.

“No, Kir,” Marko hisses, blood trickling from his mouth as he staggers over and puts a hand heavily on Kir’s shoulder. “Let me.”

Kir dips his chin graciously. “My pleasure.”

He hands over the gun. Levka’s eyes go wide, blood bubbling from his mouth as he stares haggardly up at Marko.

“Brother—”

“No one, and I mean NO ONE,” Marko roars, “points a gun at my daughter.”

There’s zero fanfare as he pulls the trigger, sending Levka to hell and his brains splattering all over the floor.

“Nero!”

I’m swimming in and out of consciousness as Milena rushes to me and falls to her knees, sobbing. She yanks the blood-slicked ropes, ripping them off and then clutching my body to hers.

Her hot tears fall across my face. I just smile as I inhale her scent.

Feel her warmth.

Listen to her heart thudding against mine.

“Rurik,” Marko grunts. “Are we dead yet?”

Rurik chokes out a raspy, wet laugh. “Not yet, boss.”

Marko winces, grimacing as he turns to Kir.

“Well,” he groans. “This is a surprise.”

“What…” Milena’s brow furrows as she stares incredulously at Kir. “What are you doing here?”

Kir sighs, glancing at me. I shrug. He nods, then turns his gaze back to Milena.

“I seem to have a terrible habit of not wanting to see my nephew killed.”