Chapter 91
Chapter 91
Brother’s Betrayal.
Damian’s POV.
The air in the safe house felt heavier than the humid night outside. I stood by the map-strewn table, hands gripping its edge, eyes fixed on the red circle marking our destination. “Tatiana Sokolov,” I said, voice low but charged with enough venom to poison the room. “It’s her. It’s always been her.”
Claire sat across from me, her palms pressed flat against the table as if trying to hold herself together. “And Lucian knew.” Her tone was brittle, edged with disbelief and betrayal.
“Yes.” My gaze slid to the darkened corner of the room where the flickering light caught Lucian’s photograph pinned to the corkboard. “He didn’t just know. He’s been feeding her our moves.”
The revelation had cracked something inside her. For weeks she’d fought alongside me, believing our enemy was a faceless heir, an invisible shadow. But now the shadow had a name, a face… and the man she’d once trusted was helping her.
“Why?” Claire asked, though her voice trembled as if she already feared the answer.
My jaw tightened. “Because loyalty is a currency, and Tatiana pays better. Because revenge doesn’t care who bleeds.”
A heavy silence followed, broken only by the sound of rain starting to tap against the windows.
Finally, I straightened, pulling a black case from the floor and snapping it open. Inside lay a sleek set of weapons, knives, firearms, and ammunition. “We move at dawn. We end this.”
Claire’s chest constricted. Ending it meant facing Tatiana, facing Lucian, and facing part of herself still tangled in the wreckage of our shared past.
The rain hadn’t stopped by morning. It clung to the streets like a warning, slicking the asphalt and casting warped reflections in puddles. Inside the convoy of black SUVs, tension was thick enough to choke on.
Claire sat beside me, her fingers curled around the grip of her pistol. Every few seconds, her gaze drifted to the encrypted tablet on my lap, showing live drone footage of our target. An old estate on the outskirts of St. Petersburg.
“Her base,” I muttered, zooming in. The estate was a monstrous thing of dark stone and iron gates, surrounded by acres of forest. Guards patrolled in pairs, rifles slung over their shoulders.
Claire swallowed. “And Lucian?”
My answer was slow, deliberate. “He’s inside.”
Her heart clenched. There had been a time she would’ve run into the estate to drag Lucian out. But the man who had once whispered promises in the dark was gone, replaced by someone who could sell her life for his survival.
The radio crackled. “Perimeter secured,” came Mateo’s voice. “Ready for breach on your go.”
I gave the order without hesitation. “Move in.”
The convoy halted a mile from the gates. Claire stepped into the biting wind, the scent of rain and gun oil mixing into her lungs. She adjusted the comm in her ear and met my gaze. My eyes held the same steel she’d seen before every dangerous play. Except this time, there was something else.
“This isn’t just about killing her,” I said. “It’s about ending her reach. No one replaces Tatiana Sokolov.”
Claire nodded, but inside, her thoughts were already pulling toward Lucian. She needed answers. Closure. Even if they came in the heat of a firefight.
We breached at the north wall. Explosions ripped the gates apart, the boom rolling through the trees like thunder. Gunfire erupted almost instantly.
Claire moved with precision, clearing corners, her breath sharp and controlled. I stayed close, my presence like an unshakable anchor in chaos.
A guard lunged at her from behind a column; she pivoted, firing twice into his chest before he hit the marble floor.
The deeper we pushed into the estate, the louder the gunfire became. It wasn’t just resistance; it was Lucian’s signature tactics. She recognized the layer traps, the kill zones. He was holding us back, but not for Tatiana’s protection. No, this was to control the fight, to decide when and how we reached him.
We reached the grand hall, a cavernous room dominated by a crystal chandelier and a staircase splitting into the directions.
And there he was.
Lucian stood at the top of the stairs, dressed in black tactical gear, rifle hanging loose in his grip. His gaze swept over us, lingering on Claire for a fraction too long.
“You shouldn’t have come,” he said, his voice carrying over the gunfire.
“Cut the act,” I barked. “You’re working for her.”
Lucian’s mouth curved into something between a smirk and regret. “Working with her. There’s a difference.”
Claire stepped forward, her weapon steady. “Why Lucian?”
His eyes softened for a heartbeat, but then the steel returned. “Because she offered me what you never could. The truth. About your father. About all of this.”
Her stomach turned. “And you believed her?”
“I verified it.” His voice was calm, chillingly so. “Your father died because Damian’s people needed him gone.”
“Enough!” My voice cracked like a whip. “You’re lying to divide us.”
Lucian didn’t answer. Instead, he stepped back, retreating toward the west wing. Toward Tatiana.
The chase was brutal. We weaved through corridors slick with rainwater from shattered windows, exchanging gunfire with Lucian’s men. Every close step to the west wing felt like walking deeper into a trap.
Finally, we burst into a smaller drawing room, and there she was.
Tatiana Sokolov.
She was exactly as I had described. Tall, poised, with a beauty carved from ice. Her hair was the color of spun gold, her eyes an unnerving, pale green. She stood beside a desk, one hand resting on a sleek pistol, the other cradling a glass of wine.
“I was wondering when you’d get here,” she said smoothly, her accent curling around each word.
I leveled my gun. “It ends tonight.”
Tatiana’s gaze flickered between me and Claire, then settled in the latter. “You’ve been chasing a ghost, little one. Your father…he wasn’t the man you think he was.”
Claire didn’t flinch. “You’re the one who killed him.”
Tatiana’s smile was cold. “Indirectly. But I suppose that doesn’t matter now.”
Lucian entered behind us, gun raised but not aimed at either side. “We can still walk away from this,” he said, though his eyes locked on Claire with an urgency that felt almost desperate.
“No,” I said, stepping forward. “No one walks away.”
The room erupted in violence. I fired first, my shot grazing Tatiana’s shoulder, sending the wine glass shattering across the floor. Lucian dove, pulling her out of the line of fire, and returning fire at me to cover their retreat.
Claire moved on instinct, chasing them into the adjoining hall. She caught sight of Lucian shoving Tatiana toward a hidden stairwell.
“Lucian!” She shouted, the sound tearing from her throat.
He stepped halfway down the stairs, turning to look at her one last time. Rain streamed through a cracked skyline above, streaking his face. For a heartbeat, the years between them collapsed. The shared laughter, the whispered promises.
Then his voice, low and unshaken. “Don’t follow me, Claire. You’ll die in there.”
She raised her pistol, aiming at his chest, but her hands trembled.
“Shoot him,” my voice roared from behind her.
She didn’t.
Lucian disappeared into the darkness with Tatiana, and the door slammed shut.
I caught up, grabbing her arm. “We finish this,” I growled. “No more running.”
Her heart pounded in her eyes. Somewhere deep inside, she knew the next time she saw Lucian, it would be the last, and it would be with Tatiana at his side.
And that meant the final battle had begun.