Chapter 42—Olivia

The aroma of food makes me head downstairs even though I’m not hungry.

I’m having that spell of shit again where there’s no way I can eat anything feeling the way I do. I’m just going downstairs because I figured whoever is cooking must be doing it for me, and there’s only one person that could be.

Aiden said Ilya would take care of me. I’m guessing that means he’ll make sure I eat.

When I get to the kitchen, I see I’m right.

Ilya is standing behind the stove, scrambling eggs. On the table is an assortment of delicious food—rashers of bacon, eggs, French toast, and sausages.

Dressed in a pair of jeans and a plaid shirt, Ilya looks like a normal person. This is the most casual I’ve ever seen him, and he looks so unlike his usual suited and booted self.

The appearance takes off the edge of his hard exterior. Only to some extent, though.

When he looks at me, his face is still hard, and that flat, emotionless look is still in his eyes.

“Good, you’re here. Sit,” he orders in the same tone Aiden speaks, and it’s like I could be talking to the same person.

I swallow hard when he tosses the scrambled eggs into a bowl and sets it on the table. There’s a hardness in him that’s different from Aiden and Maksim. And that’s saying something considering Aiden is ruthless and Maksim heartless.

I’m not sure what Ilya will be like with me when I tell him I find it hard to eat when I’m nervous. I also don’t think he’s going to be willing to part with information freely, so I’ll have to tread carefully when I ask him about Aiden.

“I’m not hungry,” I reply cautiously, and his eyes fix on me. There’s still no emotion, though, like he’s practiced to not have any.

The only sign of annoyance is the twitch of his lip and the slight quirk of his brow.

“Miss Markov, I’ve had daughters, so I must warn you not to try that foolishness with me. I have cooked, and you will eat.”

“I can’t eat when I’m worried sick. Aren’t you worried?” It’s a logical question, though it’s not one a senior bodyguard in the Bratva is probably used to hearing.

“I’m not paid to be worried. And I’m sure you must have been aware of the risks in coming, so being worried comes as part of this venture. Now sit.”

I pull out one of the wooden chairs and sit with my shoulders slumped.

“Make sure you eat everything.”

“Everything, there’s enough here to feed four people if not more. Are you trying to fatten me up?”

He stares at me for a moment, and I’m not sure what he’s thinking until he lowers to sit opposite me and takes one of the plates so he can eat too.

It makes me wonder if the amount of food he made was a sign of him not really thinking. He knows I barely eat as it is, so he would have known I’d protest to this feast.

“We’ll both eat.” He starts serving himself, and when he cuts me a sharp glance, I serve myself too.

I take what I can manage and place some of the scrambled eggs on a piece of toast.

He watches me the same way Aiden would and doesn’t eat until I’ve taken a big bite.

I watch him too and try to figure him out. I’ve never spoken to him before today, so other than what I’ve seen of him, which is a man who is cold like a fish and hard like a statue, I don’t know what to expect.

“Have you heard from Aiden? He’s been gone for a while.”

Two hours exactly as of one minute ago.

I’ve been watching the clock with his words from this morning ringing through my mind. I’ve been with him for a little over two weeks, and I know how I feel. I know I can’t accept that I won’t see him again.

“Do not worry about Aiden.”

“Surely you can tell me if you’ve spoken to him. It wouldn’t hurt. I just want to know if he’s okay.”

Ilya lifts his head and looks at me. “I haven’t heard anything. Sometimes that’s how it works. That’s how our lives are, and there’s nothing we can do about it, just wait.”

“I’m sorry you’re here babysitting me when you could be with him.”

His eyes cling to mine, and I’m surprised when something in his hard features softens. It’s only slight but noticeable because I’m not used to it.

“Whether you’re here or in San Francisco, I would still be babysitting you. Aiden was always going to send his best guard to watch over you until it was safe. I’m the best, and as such, I will do my best to protect you.”

“Thank you. It means a lot.”

“Well, at least this way, we get the news of what’s happening quicker, even if we still have to wait. Now eat.”

I nod and continue eating.

Silence fills the space between us, and I recall what he said about having daughters. He said he had them. Had as in past tense?

He gives me a sharp look and focuses on me.

“What are you looking at?”

“I was thinking about what you said, about having daughters. I just wondered about them. You seem to always be around Aiden.”

“My family is dead,” he answers curtly, and instantly I feel sorry I brought up the subject.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry.”

“It’s okay. You didn’t know. Now please eat. If Aiden discovers you haven’t eaten, he’ll be pissed at me, then I’ll be pissed at you.”

I give him a kind smile and take another bite of food to humor him.

When I polish off the toast, I hear something weird outside. Like a… groan?

Ilya hears it, too, because he snaps his head in the direction the sound came.

Before we can stand to check it out, the distinct echo of a bullet pierces through the silence, and we bolt up.

Suddenly, the shouts of men mingle with gunfire, and Ilya pulls out his guns.

“Get upstairs right now and do what Aiden told you to do. Take the bag and head out the back window,” Ilya orders.

“Will you be okay?”

“Go, now.”

I move, running upstairs at the same time the windows smash in.

I go into the bedroom, grab the bag, and take out the gun.

My instincts to survive kick in, and I slip the bag over my shoulders and run back out onto the landing. But, God in heaven, there are men coming up the stairs.

I hold out the gun and shoot two of them in the head before they can see me. That alerts the others and more come. More mean-looking men who look like they belong in the deep far corners of hell.

These guys are not like any I’ve seen. It’s like the mutated worst of the bunch, and some have the same tattoo I saw on Eric’s arm.

I shoot, but I can’t go up against men like these.

The door is at the end of the corridor. The door that will take me outside.

I run up to it, and just as I’m about to reach for the handle, a fist connects with my jaw, knocking me to the ground. I drop the gun and try to reach for it again when another fist lands on my cheek.

I scream out in pain as blood spurts from my nose.

My face feels like it might explode and fall off my body. Stars speckle my vision, but when they clear, I’m greeted with the monstrous face of Jude Kuzmin. The man I never hoped to see again.

“Found you, little bitch,” he sneers, and his horrible face contorts into the evil he is. “Little clever bitch. I guess you didn’t get the dress, did you? Got yourself kidnapped instead, then from the way your captor sounded, I’m sure you became his fuck toy.”

He reaches for my neck and, in one deft move, lifts me from the ground and holds me suspended in the air.

“Let go,” I choke out against his tight grasp, which squeezes so hard the stars come back accompanied with black spots.

“No. Not this time. You were always mine. This time I’m going to make sure you stay in that cage for years.”

He throws me down on the ground, and I hurt my arm and my back from the impact. Two hulking men scoop me up, one on each arm. They take me down the stairs, and every move makes my body ache.

I’m taken outside to an army of men who look like the rest of the devils that came inside. That’s when I know we never stood a chance. The men continue with me toward a jeep.

My vision is blurry. I can barely see through one eye. Through the other, I see Ilya lying face down in the dirt in a pool of blood. Bullet holes riddle his body.

“No,” I breathe, but I don’t know who I’m saying that to. Nobody here cares.