Rytsar tried not to squeeze her too hard, but he longed to keep her forever in his protective embrace. They stayed together holding each other, bonded in silence, until he looked down at her mangled hand.
“Why did they do this?” he growled in anger.
She looked up at him with those crystal blue eyes, defiance burning in them. “They tried to take your ring from me.”
Tatianna held up her damaged hand, several fingers misshapen from being broken and healing at odd angles. His ring hung loosely on her thumb now, her fingers too thin for it.
“I couldn’t let them have it,” she told him fervently. “This ring was my only connection to you—my only hope.”
Rytsar crushed her to him, unable to breathe.
If only it had been enough…
He opened his eyes, finding himself back in the cell with frozen tears on his face. Oh God, how it hurt knowing she had ended her life, too broken by what had happened to her.
Rytsar’s only solace was that she had died in her own home, surrounded by people who loved her, even though it hadn’t been enough to save her.
Now he could rejoin Tatianna, and kiss away that pain for an eternity.
The dog let out a soft woof before disappearing, alerting him that someone was coming. Rytsar slowly turned his head toward the door and waited.
The lock slid back and two of Koslov’s men walked inside.
“What, have you decided to put me out of my misery?” Rytsar asked jokingly.
“Shut up,” Ivan barked, grabbing his right arm while the other man grabbed his left. They dragged him out of the cell—his private hell for an unknown number of weeks.
Whether he lived or died, at least he was free.
Rytsar was dragged through the freshly fallen snow just as the sun peeked over the horizon. A new day had dawned and he was still a part of it.
He was taken back into the house and, to his relief, deposited next to a roaring fire in the fireplace.
Even though the pain was unbearable as his limbs slowly began to thaw from the numbing cold, he knew it meant life. He could endure anything as long as he was given the chance to fulfill his promise to radost moya and the babe.
The Koslov brothers came into the room hours later, neither of them looking happy. Stas stared at him in fear, an ice pack wedged in his mouth to keep down the swelling of his tongue.
Rytsar liked that look on him.
Gavriil said nothing, his seething anger palpable.
It was a mystery to Rytsar why he was here now, when it was obvious neither brother wanted this.
Oh hell…
Had Thane orchestrated a ransom? If so, what had he sacrificed to spare Rytsar’s life?
Rytsar closed his eyes, now more concerned than ever. Whoever came to deliver the ransom was in peril. The brothers were obviously upset, even though they had agreed to the exchange.
Just one wrong word or look, and the notoriously irrational Koslov brothers could fly off the handle, killing everyone.
Rytsar heard a commotion deep inside the building and the cry of a woman. He tensed, listening to the scuffle as it continued. Although he was certain it wasn’t Brie, the woman’s scream heralded the arrival of his “rescue” party.
How he hoped they all made it out alive.
Before negotiations began, Rytsar was pulled unceremoniously onto a chair and ordered not to move as they tied his wrists to the arms of it.
Now all he could rely on was his ability to talk them through the situation, hoping it would be enough. But Gavriil did not trust Rytsar, and took that away from him as one of the men gagged him with a strip of cloth.
Stas handed the bloody ice pack to one of the men and told him to get rid of it as he faced the door, hands behind his back and a look of hatred on his face.
Rytsar stared at the door, his heart pounding as the footsteps of several people drew nearer. Who would come through that door?
Rytsar watched as three people he knew were pushed into the room and thrown to the floor.
He was shaken to his very core when he looked into the bloody faces of Captain, Wallace, and the last person he ever expected to see—Samantha.
Rytsar glared at them heatedly, livid they had ignored his warnings and risked their lives to save him.
Now their blood would be on his hands as well.
Gavriil said tauntingly, “Do they seem familiar to you, worm?”
Rytsar grunted angrily in answer, turning his head from them in disgust.
Stas chuckled but kept his mouth shut to hide his injury.
“American fools,” Gavriil stated. “They have risked their lives for you. I wonder why they would do that.” He turned to face Rytsar, smirking. “Hmm?”
Gavriil placed his heavy boot on Samantha’s back and leaned down, placing the barrel of his gun against her temple. “What would you do if I shot her right now?” He then laughed, stating, “Nothing. Because there is nothing you can do, is there?”
Stas looked down at Samantha and cleared his throat to get Gavriil’s attention. When he had it, he glanced at Samantha again wearing an unreadable expression it seemed only Gavriil understood.
Gavriil slowly removed his foot. “Wait. Is this the infamous Mistress Clark? The woman who humiliated Durov in every possible way known to man? Stas is quite the admirer of yours.” He chuckled as he held out his hand to her. “My sincerest apologies, Mistress.”
Samantha took his hand, the red mark on her cheek highlighting the way she had been treated. But she stood up with grace and power, an aura of confidence. “I am one and the same,” she answered coolly.
Gavriil turned to Rytsar. “These heathens might not be here for your rescue after all. How curious…”
He turned back to Samantha and demanded, “Why have you come?”
“We are here to retrieve Durov,” she replied with smooth conviction.
“For what purpose?”
“Does that matter? We have what you asked for.”
“We did not offer any exchange to you,” he huffed, lifting his gun and pointing it at her head.
Samantha remained unruffled as she explained, “My colleagues and I are here on behalf of Vlad Durov. The man you made the offer to. He will be extremely unhappy when he finds out the manner in which we have been treated.”
“I don’t believe you,” Gavriil scoffed. “Vlad would never align himself with a woman.”
All the men in the room chuckled in agreement.
“As he already informed you, Vlad is unwilling to dirty his hands with this mess but I, on the other hand, have no such qualms. Rest assured, I am here on his behalf and I can prove it to you.” She nodded toward the door. “Except one of your men stole the timepiece I was instructed to hand to you.”
Gavriil seemed appeased by her answer and nodded to Stas who left the room to retrieve it.
While they waited, Gavriil looked the Domme over appreciatively. “You are quite a looker, Mistress Clark. While I’m no bitch like Durov, I wouldn’t mind showing you a taste of Russian hospitality.” He moved in close and growled lustfully. “Let me show you what a real man does with American pussy.”
Samantha raised her eyebrow, looking at him with disdain. “Mr. Koslov, I would break every bone in your body if you dared to try.” She glanced down at Captain and Wallace dismissively and smiled. “Just ask my men.”
“Ah…” Gavriil said in admiration. “So these are your men, not the other way around.”
“Of course not. I bow to no man.”
He moved in a little closer and said in a seductive tone, “I bet I could make you bow.”
Stas walked in holding the item in his hand, but Gavriil ignored him.
Strolling over to Rytsar, he grinned down at him. “Tell me, worm. How does it feel to have no one on your side? We know what your father wanted to do to you. He recounted it many times to us in great detail. I assume his oldest son, who carries that same hatred for you, must have similar plans.” Gavriil’s eye
s shone with excitement. “You kept that inheritance to yourself, being the selfish prick that you are. Brothers shouldn’t act like that.” He looked over at Stas and smiled. “I guess the time has come to pay for your mistakes at the hand of your eldest brother who was named after your father. It seems fitting, really.”
He looked over at Stas. “Don’t you agree, brother?”
Stas stared at Rytsar with a smug expression and then nodded to his brother, a slight grin on his lips. Rytsar had to admit that Stas was acting every bit the arrogant bastard he was, despite his recent injury.
Rytsar glared back at him, making a silent vow that Stas would die with a surprised look on his face—just as Mamulya had.
Gavriil laughed. “I remember your brother Vlad told me you were a real momma’s boy as a child. Always crying and pulling on your mother’s skirt, demanding her attention.”
Rytsar rolled his eyes.
Gavriil did not care for that cavalier attitude, and leaned down, asking loudly as he glanced at Samantha, “Tell me. How did it feel to take a dildo in the ass for this woman, while she crushed your balls in her hand?”
Rytsar looked up at him, now deciding how Gavriil would die.
“That’s what I imagine happened,” Gavriil said, chuckling. Looking to Samantha, he asked, “Am I right?”
She gave him a wicked smirk, saying haughtily, “Something like that.”
Gavriil’s laughter filled the room as he grinned at his brother.
As much as Rytsar hated Samantha, he admired the way she was playing the two brothers. She had them eating out of her hand, and they were completely oblivious to it.
“Let’s finish this up, shall we?” Samantha said in a bored voice. “I may even overlook the grievous way you’ve treated me and my boys if you make this quick.”
Samantha looked down at Captain and Wallace and ordered, “Stand up.”
The Koslovs did not stop them as both men got to their feet, giving Rytsar a full view of the bloody marks they wore after being beaten by Koslovs’ men.
It made Rytsar’s blood boil, but instead of showing the brothers his anger, Rytsar narrowed his eyes, looking at Wallace and Captain with distrust as he tried to analyze how to take them down. It was essential he keep up the pretense of being enemies if they had any hope of getting out alive.
He refused to have the blood of these three on his hands.
“Vlad agreed to the payment?”
Samantha looked at him scornfully. “Would we be here if he hadn’t?”
Gavriil told Stas, “Check the account to verify the transfer has been made.”
Stas was forced to leave the room, the location of their compound so remote that communications were rudimentary and archaic. It was part of the appeal of this inhospitable area, making it the perfect spot for people to disappear without a trace.
Rytsar remained extremely concerned for their safety, fearful Stas would not let them go. Nothing was guaranteed until they were safely away from this place.
While they waited, Gavriil tried to flirt with Samantha, which she thwarted. His unsuccessful attempts seemed to turn him on even more. By the time Stas returned, Gavriil was sporting a noticeable hard-on.
Stas walked into the room and nodded to Gavriil.
“That is wonderful news, brother,” Gavriil said with a smile. He looked at Samantha lustfully and offered, “Would you like me to kill my men who hurt you? I don’t want there to be any hard feelings between us.”
She glanced down at his bulging crotch, her face stoic as she answered, “Don’t bother. There’s nothing hard between us.”
He smirked, obviously enjoying her insult, eager for more.
But Rytsar could tell Stas was not as equally mesmerized by Samantha as his brother, because he kept staring at Rytsar with a possessive look in his eye.
That look caused the hairs to rise on the back of Rytsar’s neck.
The Sacrifice
“The deal is done then,” Gavriil announced, sticking out his hand to shake Samantha’s, but instead of shaking it, he grasped her hand, turned it and brought it to his lips.
Samantha jerked her hand away, telling Captain and Wallace, “Untie Durov. No need to be gentle with the merchandise.”
Just as Captain began untying his bonds, Stas waved Gavriil over and whispered in his ear.
A chill went down Rytsar’s spine.
“Wait,” Gavriil suddenly stated. “Stas has brought up an excellent point. It is not right that Durov leave here without a sacrifice.”
“What do you mean?” Samantha demanded, narrowing her eyes in suspicion.
“He killed a member of our family. There must be restitution.”
“Isn’t that what the ransom is for?” she insisted.
“No, an attack on the Koslovs as grievous as this requires a physical restitution be made. Something we can give to the family.”
“Meaning?” Samantha asked, her voice cold as ice.
“An eye for an eye.”
Samantha frowned menacingly, stating, “No, that was not part of the ransom.”
“And yet, he will not leave until we have a sacrifice and we will not accept it from the worm himself.” He smiled warmly at Captain and Wallace. “Which means it must come from one of you.”
Rytsar snarled, struggling violently in his bonds, hoping to draw attention back to himself. He understood why they were demanding it from another. The Koslovs knew his history as a child. It would be far harder to watch someone else pay for his actions than to have it done to himself—he had been the whipping boy after all.
But he was ignored by Stas as he produced a large knife and moved toward the two men.
Rytsar’s muffled howls filled the room when Stas approached Captain. He stopped and gave the man a closed-mouth grin as he tapped the leather patch covering Captain’s left eye with the knife. He then slowly moved the blade, setting the tip against the edge of his right eyeball.
Captain did not flinch, looking Stas in the eye.
“I’ll do it.”
Stas smiled, turning to face Wallace. He moved over to the boy and stared deep into both his blue eyes as if deciding which one he would take.
Samantha stepped in between them, warning Stas, “No one hurts my men.”
Stas turned the blade on her, grinning crazily.
“Do not touch her,” Gavriil growled. “I will never forgive you if you do!”
The tension in the room shot up to dangerous levels as the two brothers faced each other—one with a gun, the other with a blade as they slowly circled each other.
We are all doomed, Rytsar thought.
Wallace stated firmly, “The offer has been made and I stand behind it.”
Gavriil turned to him, grateful that there was a way out of the standoff with his brother. “You will act as the worm’s payment.”
“Yes,” Wallace answered with finality.
Stas walked up to him and nodded to a nearby chair, the mischievous smile growing on his lips.
Wallace sat down as the reality of what was about to happen fell over the room.
Both Captain and Samantha ordered them to stop. In response, several of Koslovs’ men subdued the two, forcing them to watch.
Wallace faced the brothers with the same steadfastness Rytsar had when he was a boy facing the whipping pole.
When Wallace turned his head to look at Rytsar with grim resolve while his arms were bound to the chair, Rytsar nodded to him in respect.
Nothing could change the events about to happen, but Rytsar would honor the man’s courage by suffering with him. The entire time he kept his gaze locked on Wallace, even as others turned away.
Wallace took it like a man, the way Rytsar would have if the roles had been reversed.
The sickening sound of the eye being popped out, along with the knife cutting into the flesh of the optic nerve and Wallace’s cries of agony, filled the room. Watching was far harder for Rytsar than enduring it himself. This was not Wallace’s
fight and yet he was paying the price—his sacrifice the only way to ensure they all lived.
Rytsar would be forever in Wallace’s debt.
Stas held up his prize for everyone to see when he was finished.
The silence in the room was chilling; the only sound was of Wallace’s labored breathing.
“It is done,” Gavriil announced, finally breaking the silence.
He walked over to Rytsar and looked down at him with disdain. “This is your gift, worm. It will be boxed up and sent to our cousin’s family so they may know their son’s death has been avenged.”
Gavriil then turned to Samantha and smiled as if nothing had happened. “You may leave now. I guarantee your safety, Mistress Clark.”
Rytsar took heart hearing his promise to her, because Gavriil was stating to Stas and all the men present that he was back in charge now.
They might have a chance…
“Please deliver the worm to Vlad with our compliments and feel free to play with him before you do.” He smirked lustfully at her, adding, “I won’t tell.”
Samantha rebuffed him, seemingly unamused, and moved over to Rytsar and began untying his bonds, her actions unhurried as if she was unconcerned about their safety, building up Gavriil’s ego and feigning her trust.
Captain walked over to Wallace, ripping off his shirt and wadded it up before pressing the material against Wallace’s eye socket. He ordered Wallace to hold it there as he quickly made work of the rope.
Once Rytsar was untied, Samantha insisted he turn around so she could bind his hands behind his back. Rytsar hated wasting even a second and did so with great resentment. He was afraid at any moment they might all be shot in the back.
As their party slowly made its way out of the room, Gavriil called out, “Enjoy Hell, Durov, and tell your father hello for me.”
Rytsar growled under his breath, already formulating how he would take the entire Koslov empire. There was a time when just the brothers’ deaths would have sufficed—but not now.
His need for revenge had grown exponentially.
At the door, the three were handed the winter clothing they had entered with. Because he had no shirt, Captain took his jacket but handed Rytsar his fur ushanka.