Chapter 103 Anya
I waited in the safehouse, pacing back and forth, unable to sit still. Nikolai had left six hours ago. Six hours of not knowing if he was alive or dead. If the plan worked or if he was caught.
Every minute felt like an hour. Every hour felt like a lifetime.
Mikhail had left two guards with me for protection. They stood silently by the door, watching me pace.
"Sit down, Mrs. Koslov," one said gently. "You will wear a hole in the floor."
"I cannot sit," I said. "Not until I know he is safe."
"He will be safe," the guard said. "Nikolai is smart. Careful. He knows what he is doing."
But what if he was not careful enough? What if something went wrong? What if Ivanov had one last trick? One last way to hurt us? My mind spiraled with terrible possibilities.
At three in the morning I heard engines outside. Car doors slamming. Footsteps. I ran to the window. Three vehicles pulled up. Men emerged. I searched their faces desperately.
Then I saw him. Nikolai. Walking. Alive. Covered in blood but alive. Relief crashed through me so powerfully I nearly collapsed.
The door opened. Nikolai walked in. Our eyes met across the room.
"It is done," he said simply.
"You killed him?" I asked.
"Yes," he said. "He is dead."
I should have felt something. Relief maybe. Or satisfaction. But all I felt was tired. So tired.
"Are you hurt?" I asked, noticing the blood.
"No," he said. "This is not my blood."
I walked to him slowly. Looked at his hands. At the blood staining them. At the emptiness in his eyes.
"How do you feel?" I asked quietly.
"Nothing," he said. "I feel nothing."
I understood. Revenge did not heal wounds. It just made new ones.
I took his hands in mine. "Come. Let us get you cleaned up."
I led him to the bathroom. Started the shower. Helped him remove his clothes. He moved like a man in a trance. Under the water the blood washed away. Down the drain. Gone but not forgotten.
I stood outside the shower watching him through the glass. His head was bowed. His shoulders shook slightly. He was crying. Silent tears mixing with the water.
My heart broke for him. For everything he had lost. For everything he had been forced to become.
When the water turned cold I turned it off. Handed him a towel. He dried himself mechanically. We went to the bedroom. He lay down on the bed. Stared at the ceiling. I lay beside him. Took his hand.
"What happens now?" I asked.
"Now we rebuild," he said. "I am taking back everything Ivanov stole. His territory. His businesses. His power."
"What about the council?"
"The council will learn to fear me again," he said. His voice was cold. Hard. "Tomorrow I am going to dump Ivanov's body on their doorstep. Let them see what happens to people who cross me."
"That is dangerous," I said. "They could come after you."
"Let them try," he said. "I am done hiding. Done being afraid. Moscow's underworld belongs to me. And anyone who challenges that will end up like Ivanov."
I had never heard him speak like this before. With such cold certainty. Such ruthlessness. Ivanov had changed him. Torture had changed him. Loss had changed him. The man beside me was not the same man I had fallen in love with. But I loved him still. Maybe even more. Because I understood his pain.
"What about us?" I asked quietly.
He turned to look at me. Really look at me. And some of the hardness left his face. "Us," he repeated. "What do you want, Anya?"
"I want to be with you," I said. "I want to build a life. A real life. Not this."
"Not what?" he asked.
"Not violence and revenge and blood," I said. "I understand you needed this. Needed to kill Ivanov. But where does it end? When do we stop running? When do we stop fighting?"
He was quiet for a long time. "I do not know," he admitted. "Right now I need to secure our position. Make sure no one else tries what Ivanov did. That means being ruthless. Being feared."
"And after?" I pressed.
"After," he said slowly. "After we can think about peace. About normal life. About the house by the lake."
Tears filled my eyes. "You remember that?"
"I remember everything," he said. He pulled me closer. "I remember every moment with you. Every word. Every dream we shared."
"Then promise me," I said. "Promise me this is temporary. Promise me you will not become like Ivanov."
"I promise," he said. "I am not doing this for power. I am doing this for survival. For protection. So that we never have to live in fear again."
I wanted to believe him. Wanted to trust that this violence was necessary. That it would end. But I had seen what revenge did to people. How it consumed them. Changed them. I just hoped Nikolai was strong enough to stop before it destroyed him completely.
The next morning I woke to find him gone. A note was on the pillow. "Had business to handle. Will be back tonight. Stay inside. Stay safe. I love you."
I dressed and went to find the guards. They were in the kitchen drinking coffee. "Where did he go?" I asked.
They exchanged glances. "To the council building," one said finally.
"Why?"
"To deliver a message," the guard said.
I understood. He was dumping Ivanov's body. Making his statement.
"What will the council do?" I asked.
"Nothing," the guard said. "They are too afraid. Half of them were already planning to switch sides. This will just speed that up."
"And the other half?"
"They will either fall in line or they will die," the guard said simply.
That was the new reality. Submit or die. Fear or death.
By evening Moscow's underworld was in chaos. Fights broke out over territory. Gangs split into factions. Some backing Nikolai. Others trying to seize power in the vacuum. And through it all Nikolai moved like a ghost. Striking fast. Eliminating threats. Consolidating power.
When he finally returned that night he looked exhausted. But satisfied.
"It is done," he said. "The council agreed to recognize my authority. My businesses are mine again. Ivanov's guards are mine. Everything he took, I took back."
"At what cost?" I asked.
"Seven men dead," he said. "Ivanov's loyalists. They refused to surrender."
"You killed them?"
"Yes," he said without hesitation. "They chose death over submission. I gave them what they wanted."
I looked at this man covered in blood and violence. This man I loved. This man who terrified me.
"When does it end, Nikolai?" I asked again.
"Soon," he promised. "Very soon. I just need to secure our position. Make sure no one dares challenge us. Then we can disappear. Start over somewhere new."
"Do you really believe that?" I asked. "Or are you lying to yourself?"
He did not answer. And that told me everything I needed to know. This would not end. Not soon. Maybe not ever. Because once you started down this path, once you became the monster, it was almost impossible to stop.
I just hoped I had the strength to stay beside him. To pull him back before he went too far. Or to leave if he did not.