The man observed me, and it made me sick. Because his gaze was not dissimilar to the way Jay used to look at me, trying to pull me apart so he could use me.
“You have no idea who we are, milyy,” he said finally. “Your husband, he is powerful. He is ruthless. But so are we.”
“I have an idea who you are,” I disputed, maintaining eye contact. “And you think you know how ruthless my husband is. How powerful. But you’ve just pushed him over the edge. It doesn’t matter who the fuck you are now. He will show you no mercy, he will destroy you all.”
Jay
Jay got no intel out of the Vors. No satisfaction from their deaths either. He could not save her. He could not save his fucking wife. Jay was sitting in his office at Klutch, looking out onto the empty dance floor, wondering if he’d ever see Stella again. If he’d ever be human again.
It was the most unlikely person who saved Stella.
Though Jay couldn’t be sure that she was saved since he didn’t know if she was still alive.
But it was the most unlikely person to maybe save her life. Maybe save Jay.
When Felicity walked through the door of his office, he was ready to hurt her. It didn’t matter that he had a code about hurting women. He had no code anymore because he had no religion, no place of worship, no fucking Stella.
Jay was a dangerous man to be around, and Felicity knew that. Because she knew him. Or she knew who he used to be, when he was younger, weaker, when he wasn’t ready to burn the whole world down to smell his wife’s hair again, to feel his child growing in her stomach.
“I know where she is,” Felicity stated as he stood, rounding his desk to do fuck knows what.
That stopped Jay in his tracks. “You better tell me more, and tell me why you know this if you want to leave this room.”
Felicity didn’t look afraid. She was not a woman who was afraid of threats from men, even when those men were willing to follow through on them. Felicity was the daughter of a very powerful man, a very old family, one that was not friends of the Kuznetsovs.
“My father has been surveilling them, waiting to strike,” she offered, eyes never leaving his. “He knew they’d be distracted, weak, being preoccupied with you. I didn’t know she was gone until now, or I would’ve come sooner.”
“Where the fuck is she?” Jay demanded, a tremor in his voice.
Jay left the second Felicity uttered Stella’s location. He knew she’d expected more, had expected him to hear her say whatever she had to say, whatever goodbyes, but he didn’t have time.
He needed to get to his wife.
His child.
He needed to wear the blood of everyone who had thought they could take her from him.
Thirty Minutes Later
He was covered in blood. Some of it might’ve been his. He hoped it was, he deserved to bleed for this. Whatever Stella had gone through, he needed it tenfold. If he found her hurt, if he found her dead, all he could hope for was that his wounds killed him too.
Even if she was untouched, if this was some kind of perfect fucking world where his wife—his pregnant wife—was kidnapped by the Russian Mafia, and they hadn’t laid a hand on her, she would not come out unscathed. There would be scars. There would be the knowledge that he had been unable to protect her. She wouldn’t blame him. But he’d spend a lifetime blaming himself. Hating himself. If he was somehow lucky enough to be given a lifetime with his wife.
With their child.
He didn’t think anymore.
Couldn’t think anymore.
He had to focusing on killing. He was good at that. Magnificent at that. Being a husband, being a father, being a human—that’s where he failed.
The mansion on the coast had been guarded well. Though they were arrogant enough to think he wouldn’t find them, they weren’t stupid enough to rule it out. Jay had not brought as many men because he hadn’t needed to. They’d killed quietly because they did not want the old man to know they were there. The second he knew of their presence, he’d kill Stella.
The Greenstone Security men were on the perimeter because Jay had told them to stay at the fucking perimeter. He knew they’d have thoughts about mercy once they took over the house.
There was no room for mercy here. No room for heroes.
They weren’t leaving any alive. Not a single one. Karson was at his side when they entered the living room. The room that had been guarded heavily. The room that contained Stella.
Stella was the only thing on his mind as he slit the throat of the very last man standing in his way. He’d go to her, drenched in the blood of his enemies, eyes full of death and violence, he’d go to her as a monster.