Chapter 54 Nikolai
Marcus's call came at midnight and I knew from the tone of his voice before he said anything that the news was bad.
"Nikolai," he said carefully, the way people spoke when they were about to deliver a blow they knew would land hard. "I just received word from our contact at Klinik Hoffnung. Luka Rousseau died this morning."
The words hit me like a punch straight to the chest and all the air left my lungs in a rush. I sat down heavily in the chair by the window, the phone pressed to my ear, and couldn't find words to respond.
"The cancer came back aggressively," Marcus continued into my silence. "The treatment stopped working. He went quickly, from what I understand. Marlena was with him at the end."
I closed my eyes and saw Luka's face from the video calls I'd monitored, that young man who'd looked so much like his sister with the same green eyes and stubborn chin. The brother she'd sacrificed everything to save. The reason she'd signed that contract in the first place.
"Thank you for telling me," I managed to say, my voice rough.
"Do you want me to send flowers? Make a donation in his name?"
"No." The word came out sharper than I intended. "She won't want anything from me. Just make sure the clinic bills are paid in full and anonymously."
"Already done." Marcus paused. "I'm sorry, Nikolai. I know this complicates things."
Complicates. What a bloodless word for the devastation I felt knowing that Marlena had just lost the person she loved most in the world. The person she'd sold her freedom to save. And I was the reason she hadn't been there for all those months when she could have been, the reason she'd been fighting for her life in Monaco instead of sitting by his bedside.
She would hate me even more now. If there had been any chance of redemption, any possibility of earning her forgiveness someday, it died with Luka. I had stolen her time with him and that was something she would never, could never, forgive.
Part of me wanted to fly to Switzerland immediately, to find her and hold her while she grieved and tell her how sorry I was. I wanted to be there for her in a way I'd never been before, to actually support her instead of using her. But I knew that was the last thing she needed. My presence would only make her pain worse, would remind her of everything she'd lost because of me.
So I stayed far away in my cold, empty penthouse and did the only thing I could do, which was nothing.
I pulled a bottle of whiskey from the bar, expensive single malt that tasted like smoke and regret. I didn't bother with a glass, just opened it and drank straight from the bottle as I sank into the sofa. The burn in my throat was welcome and I took another long swallow, then another, drinking until the edges of reality started to blur.
The penthouse spun gently around me as the alcohol hit my system and I kept drinking. I thought about all the pain I'd caused Marlena, cataloging it like some kind of punishment I deserved. The contract that had trapped her. The lies I'd told. The way I'd used her brother's illness as leverage. The baby she'd lost. The time with Luka I'd stolen. Every choice I'd made had hurt her and now the person she'd sacrificed everything for was dead.
The bottle was half empty when I pulled out my phone and dialed the secure line that only Katya used. It rang four times before she answered, her voice cautious. "Kolya?"
"I need you to do something for me," I said, the words slurring slightly.
"Are you drunk?"
"That's not relevant." I took another drink. "I need you to watch Marlena and Elena. From a distance. Make sure they're safe."
"I'm already doing that," Katya said quietly. "I've had eyes on them since they left the hospital. They're in a safe house in the mountains, well protected."
"Good." Relief washed through me. "Keep watching them. No matter what happens to me, you keep them safe. Promise me."
"What's going to happen to you?" Her voice sharpened with concern.
"Nothing. Everything. I don't know yet." I rubbed my face with my free hand. "Just promise me, Katya. They've been through enough. They deserve to be left alone to heal."
"I promise," she said. "But Nikolai, you need to know something. The FBI is building a case against you. That agent, Damien Cross, he's been asking questions about Volkov Industries and the art purchases. I think Marlena might be cooperating with them."
The words should have alarmed me but I just felt tired. "Good. She should. I deserve whatever's coming."
"That's the whiskey talking."
"No, it's not." I leaned back against the sofa and stared at the ceiling. "I destroyed her life, Katya. Used her as bait, got her shot, cost her the baby, and now her brother is dead because I pulled her away when she should have been with him. If she wants to help the FBI take me down, she's earned that right."
Katya was silent for a long moment. "You love her."
"Doesn't matter. She hates me and she should." I took another drink. "Just keep her safe. That's all I'm asking."
"I will." Her voice softened. "Take care of yourself, brother."
I hung up without responding and sat there in the darkness with the whiskey bottle in my hand. The penthouse was too quiet, too empty, echoing with ghosts of conversations and moments that would never happen again. I could almost hear Marlena's voice, see her moving through the space with that particular grace she had.
But she was gone and she wasn't coming back.
The rage that had been simmering under my grief suddenly exploded to the surface. I stood too fast and the room tilted but I didn't care. I hurled the whiskey bottle at the wall with all my strength and it shattered in a spectacular explosion of glass and liquid. The expensive single malt ran down the white paint in amber rivers while shards glittered on the marble floor like deadly diamonds.
But breaking things didn't make me feel better. Nothing made me feel better.
I grabbed my jacket and left the penthouse, taking the elevator down to the garage where Anton waited with the Mercedes. He took one look at my face and wisely said nothing, just opened the door and drove when I told him to.
We went to the kinds of bars I used to frequent before I'd built my empire, the dark places in forgotten neighborhoods where rough men conducted business that never saw daylight. Places where violence simmered just below the surface and everyone knew better than to ask questions.
I found the men I needed in the third bar, sitting in a corner booth with their eyes constantly scanning for threats. They were Viktor's former associates, the ones who'd managed to survive the purge after his death. They looked up when I approached and their hands moved toward weapons before they recognized me.
"Volkov," the oldest one said, his voice gravelly from too many cigarettes. "Heard you retired."
"I'm finishing what I started." I slid into the booth across from them. "Viktor's warehouses. The ones still operating under his old network. I want them burned. Tonight."
They exchanged glances and the youngest one leaned forward. "That's a lot of merchandise to destroy. Worth millions."
"I don't care about the money." I pulled out an envelope thick with cash and dropped it on the table. "This is for your trouble. Burn it all. Every warehouse, every storage facility, every safe house. I want his network erased completely."
The older man opened the envelope and counted the bills with practiced efficiency. "This is generous."
"It's non-negotiable. Do it tonight or I'll find someone who will."
They looked at each other again and some silent communication passed between them. Finally, the leader nodded. "Consider it done."
I left them planning their fires and went back to the Mercedes where Anton waited with the engine running. "The docks," I told him. "I want to watch."
He drove without comment and we parked on a hill overlooking the warehouse district where Viktor's empire had once thrived. From here I could see at least five of his old facilities, dark shapes against the night sky.
We didn't have to wait long.
The first fire started at the largest warehouse, flames suddenly erupting from the windows and climbing the walls with terrifying speed. Then the second ignited, and the third, until half the district was burning. Big flames lit up the dark sky in shades of orange and red, painting the clouds with hellish light. Sirens wailed in the distance as fire trucks rushed toward the blazes but they were already too late to save anything.
I watched Viktor's legacy burn from the safety of my car and felt absolutely nothing. No satisfaction, no triumph, no sense of completion. Just the same hollow emptiness that had been growing inside me since Marlena demanded her divorce.
Everything I'd worked for, everything I'd sacrificed, all the years of planning and revenge. It had led here, to watching buildings burn while the woman I loved grieved her brother alone in the mountains and prepared to testify against me.
I'd won. Viktor was dead, his network destroyed, his crimes exposed.
But I'd lost everything that mattered.
The flames reflected in the car windows and cast dancing shadows across my face. Anton sat silent in the driver's seat, giving me the space to process whatever I needed to process. But there wa
s nothing to process. I was empty, hollowed out, a shell of a man watching his past burn to ash.