The car swerved, tires screeching against the wet asphalt. I barely blinked. Barely registered the fact that I'd almost sent myself through the windshield. My hands gripped the steering wheel too tight, my knuckles stark white against the black leather.
The city lights blurred, streaks of red and white cutting through the darkness as I sped through the empty streets. I wasn't thinking. I wasn't feeling. I was moving, breathing, existing in the only way I knew how-reckless, dangerous, unhinged.
A sharp turn. A near miss. A horn blared somewhere behind me, but I didn't fucking care. I wasn't slowing down.
Because if I did-if I stopped for even a second-I'd drown.
Zayne.
I saw his face every time I blinked.
The way he used to look at me when we were younger. The way he didn't look at me at all now.
I slammed my foot against the gas pedal, pushing the speedometer past the limits, feeling the familiar rush of adrenaline flood my veins. A part of me wondered what would happen if I let go. If I just let the car spiral, crash, burn.
Would it even matter?
Would it make a difference? Would my Ptichka care?
My phone rang.
I ignored it.
It rang again.
I clenched my jaw, dragging in a breath that did nothing to steady me before snatching the device off the passenger seat.
"Kyle," I muttered, putting it on speaker.
"Tracked him."
I exhaled slowly, my grip tightening on the wheel. Good.
"Leak the files."
A pause. Then, "Now?"
"Obviously, Molotov."
There was a soft chuckle on the other end, low and dark. "I take it you want Bianchi to be the headline?"
"Make sure of it."
Because if there was one thing the media loved more than a scandal, it was the name Bianchi. The man was a rabid dog-greedy, corrupt, desperate to claw his way to the top. And right now, he was Lucius's greatest destruction.
Or, at least, he was until I decided otherwise.
I leaned back against the seat, dragging a hand through my hair, my pulse still hammering with the residual fury that wouldn't fucking leave.
"Release the financial reports first," I ordered. "The ones tying Lucius to the offshore accounts. Make it messy. Make it loud."
Bianchi was one of Lucius's only hope to stay alive, a senator with ties to the Mafia, the government, and foreign investors. But money was fickle. Power was fickler. Once Lucius's offshore accounts went public-once his laundering, bribery, and human trafficking rings hit the front pages-Bianchi and the rest of his allies would have no choice but to turn their backs. Though I was sure Massimo would dance when he's see me. Like the fucking drama queen he was.
Like I gave a fuck.
"And the other files?"
"The president?" A smirk pulled at my lips. "Give it a few hours. Let them sink their teeth into the first one. Then we drop Vlad Morozov."
Those files contained everything-the bribes, the backdoor deals, the politicians he'd been funding. Once we released them, every politician in the fucking world would scramble to save themselves. Lucius wouldn't just lose just his business-he'd lose the protection of the people keeping him in power.
That was the rule, wasn't it?
It'd be so fun watching him being framed for assassination of Russia's former president. That he had eliminated Vlad Morozov and taken his place as the puppet master pulling strings behind the scenes.
That false information alone would be enough to bury him.
But I didn't just want him buried.
I wanted him ruined.
I wanted him hunted.
I wanted the entire world to turn against him before I put a bullet in his fucking skull.
Kyle was quiet for a moment, and then, "That's a direct hit, Judas. You sure about this?"
A humorless laugh left my lips. "Lucius made his move years ago. It's about time the world sees him for what he really is… a fucking dead man walking."
Another pause. Then Kyle sighed. "Consider it done."
The line went dead.
I tightened my grip on the wheel, my pulse steady. Lucius wouldn't see this coming. He thought he was untouchable, but by the time the world turned against him, it would be too late.
First, I'd take his power. Then, his life. I knew I was hastening the sweetness of the process, but I really wanted it dead and gone.
My vengeance had kept me breathing, had been the only thing keeping my pulse steady through the years of war and bloodshed. But now? Now, there was something stronger than my hate. A force greater than my fury.
Her.
I wanted to crush Lucius beneath my fucking boot, watch his empire burn to the ground and piss on the ashes. But not because revenge still owned me the way it used to. No, this wasn't about settling scores anymore. This was about ending a goddamn war that had stolen too many years of my life. Years I could've spent with her.
I pictured her-soft and fierce, a fucking contradiction wrapped in the most tempting body I'd ever seen. Standing at the edge of my world like a goddamn storm ready to rip me apart. The way her lips parted when she was about to argue, the fire in her eyes when she called me a bastard, the way her breath hitched when I got too close.
Fuck, I wanted to get lost in her.
I wanted to trade bloodstains for lipstick smudges, wanted to wake up to the scent of her hair instead of gunpowder and whiskey. I wanted to trace every fucking inch of her with my tongue, worship her like the goddess she was, let my hands learn the poetry of her body in ways no other man ever would.
And more than anything, I wanted peace.
Not the bullshit kind that came from silence, but the kind that came from her fingers brushing through my hair at the end of a long fucking day. The kind that came from watching her sleep beside me, knowing that she was mine, that nothing-not war, not enemies, not fate-could ever take her away from me.
For the first time in my life, revenge wasn't the most important thing.
She was.
And once Lucius was fucking dead, I'd spend the rest of my life proving it to her.
And strangely I felt myself smiling at the thought of her. The power this woman had. Maybe I should head back and kiss her before apologising for storming like an idiot. Should I bring her some flowers? What was her favourite flower anyway? Fuck. I didn't know. Maybe we should start talking about random things more rather than unnecessary people.
The phone rang again and the smile on my face twisted into a scowl. It better not be Kyle.
That two-timing bastard had been getting on my fucking nerves like a third wheel strapped to my goddamn back. If he wasn't my best fucking bodyguard, I'd have tossed his ass into a ditch and let him figure his way back.
I swiped the screen and pressed the phone to my ear.
"What the fuck do you want, Kyle?"
Silence.
Not the usual sigh of exasperation. Not the dry sarcasm he threw back at me when I pissed him off.
Just fucking silence.
My grip on the wheel tightened. "Kyle."
His voice came low, clipped, but it hit me like a bullet between the ribs.
"She's been kidnapped."
The world fucking stopped.
I swear to God, I heard my own heartbeat slam against my skull, felt the air get ripped straight out of my fucking lungs.
No.
No, no, no-
I must've misheard him. Or maybe this was one of Kyle's sick jokes, some twisted attempt at getting back at me for all the times I'd called him a dumbass.
"What the fuck did you just say?" My voice came out quiet. Too quiet. The kind of quiet that made grown men piss themselves.
Kyle exhaled. "Judas, listen-"
No. Fuck that. I wasn't listening.
I was already pulling the car to a screeching halt, tires burning against the pavement as I swung the door open. My body moved before my mind could catch up, but my mind wasn't working anyway.
She's been kidnapped.
The words sank in. They dug their claws into my brain and ripped through me like a fucking storm.
I should've been there.
I should've never left her alone.
If one fucking hair on her head was out of place, I was going to make whoever took her beg for death.
I pressed the phone so hard to my ear I was surprised it didn't crack. "Where the fuck is she, Kyle?"
His silence stretched just a second too long. "Don't do anything reckless for fuck's sake, I'm coming-"
"Where. Is. She?" I growled.
He sighed and I fucking heard commotion in the back. He was running I could tell by his rapid breaths and then slamming of a door. "Judas… I'll send you the location, just… don't, please."
I couldn't stay calm. What the fuck was happening anymore? Lucius had a fucking death wish. He wanted to see hell sooner than his time. If that's what he wanted then so be it. The bastard would scream today. And I'd fucking enjoying. I cut the phone and sat behind the wheel before I heard the notification ring.
Old Cliffside Villa.
It was an hour drive away. That meant she was kidnapped less than an hour ago.
Lucius was getting desperate. If he wanted to make a point, he would've paraded her body somewhere public. But he didn't. That meant he needed something from her-leverage, information, control. And that meant she was still alive. For now.
Didn't matter.
Because I wasn't going there as Judas Romanovski.
I was going there as the nightmare Lucius had spent years trying to outrun. A fucking predator.
And by the time I walked out of that villa, he'd be nothing but a fucking memory.