“Now!” the man called. “In his neck, now!”
I thrashed against his hold, but I couldn’t break his grasp.
Klavs … Klavs … my mind ordered, Master’s words flooding my head. They wouldn’t stop, the words kept stabbing at my brain. The poison, the pain, the hold. I couldn’t fucking break free!
I heard footsteps beside me, then a pain suddenly stabbed in my neck. I roared and rammed my elbow into my captor’s ribs. I thrashed to get free. Rolling to the side, I jumped to my feet, but I couldn’t see straight. My skin was too hot and dripped with sweat. I tried to walk but my feet wouldn’t move.
The man who’d fought me got to his feet. I blinked away the blur in my eyes. My gaze went to the man. His face was pale as he stared at me. He was mouthing words, firing orders to his men, but only the sound of my own breathing filled my ears.
I tried to reach for the man, my mind telling me to fight, to kill, to create carnage. But as I stepped forward, my knees buckled and I hit the ground hard. Arms grabbed me and began dragging my limp body across the hard ground.
I tried to pull away but my muscles wouldn’t move.
I lifted my eyes, the man was still staring. My skin crawled, my muscles tensed and I wanted to kill. Slit his throat, slice him with my sais.
I heard van doors open, and I was dragged off the ground. My eyes began to close, then suddenly everything faded to black.… The last image I saw was the man looking to the sky and taking a deep breath. I remembered his face, remembered it so if I awoke, his would be the first heart I’d make sure I stopped.
Chapter Five
Talia
Tolstoi Country Estate
West Hampton, New YorkSitting at the window of the living room, I stared out at a dark overcast sky. The light from the lighthouse circled lazily in the near distance, beckoning sailors home. Round, round, round, its hypnotic rhythm relaxed me as I sipped my coffee.
Ilya and Savin, my personal byki, walked in the grounds, my gaze catching the flicker of their movement in the moonlight. Both were dressed in black and as quiet as the night.
I felt safe.
I’d only been here a couple of days, and already I felt at peace. The beach, the salty sea air, this colonial-style house and most important, away from my Bratva cage in Brooklyn.
Taking another sip of my coffee, my free hand subconsciously lifted to run over the necklace I always wore around my neck. My babushka’s—my grandmother’s—necklace, the necklace she’d given me just before she died a few years ago. This delicate chain of gold had been my dedushka’s—my grandfather’s. It was the Tolstoi crest given to him as a boy. All Vor V Zakone received them from their fathers, all Thieves in Law, she had told me. It was a statement of honor. One he passed to her to keep close to her heart when he was gone on business.
I ran the pad of my thumb over the pendent and remembered the woman I’d regarded as my best friend, who just “got me.” Babushka was the world’s biggest romantic. And she’d loved my dedushka with all her heart, only to lose him at a young age. She never got over him and lit a candle every day at church in his honor.
All she had left of him was this necklace. A necklace she’d given to me as a symbol that one day I would find my true love, too.
She had wanted that for me so badly—to love another as fully as she had loved him.
I desperately wanted that, too.
I heard the back door open, and Ilya and Savin entered the room, each standing at opposite windows.
I rolled my eyes. “Surely no one threatening is going to be here in the Hamptons … in winter. It’s the reason we came out here. Practically no one else around.” My father hadn’t been happy about my wanting to leave Brooklyn for a while. With the new Georgian threat, he wanted me close for protection. But with my mother’s help, eventually he caved. Our compromise for my vacation—our summer home in the Hamptons. I was good with the deal. It was far enough away from home, and quiet enough for me to finally relax.
Neither of my byki listened to my complaint about their patrol. My father had made sure I had my guards with me. I didn’t ever know much about Bratva business, but I knew Savin and Ilya were checking we hadn’t been followed. I got that we were on high alert. I got that I was a huge target for the Georgians. From what I could surmise from Savin and Ilya’s quiet whispers was that the boss of the Jakhua clan was insane. And he was to be feared. He was a genuine threat to our position in Brooklyn. That meant I had to endure their constant surveillance.
Leaving the guys to their searching of the house, I looked out onto the rough sea crashing against our private beach, at the tide always chasing the shore, unable to stay away too long.