𝑅𝑒𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑠𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑃ℎ𝑜𝑒𝑛𝑖𝑥 ✔︎ || 𝐶𝑜𝑚𝑝𝑙𝑒𝑡𝑒𝑑

07

~ ilya ~

I found myself walking through the compound once more with this тупая девчонка [stupid girl] in my arms again. This time, I was headed for the infirmary.

I gritted my teeth, remembering the stunt she pulled off today. She was nearly killed by fucking Mogilevic. He thought she belonged to me. But why? Nothing made sense. Who the fuck was she then?

When I reached the compound doctor, my widowed sister-in-law, I grunted a quick order to her before placing Phoenix on the bed. She looked like shit. Her forehead was matted by dry blood. Her skin was unusually pale and her nose was dripping crimson.

"Yes, Dimitri," Milena murmured, looking with concern at her.

Most people in the compound referred to me respectfully by my middle name, out of respect. The shestyorka, the lowest-rank foot soldiers of my Bratva, addressed me as  'Pakhan'.

In fact, it was only my right-hand man, Aleksey who called me 'Ilya'. He was both my sovietnik, an advisor, and obshchak, the bookmaker, who collected the money. As an ex-KGB soldier, his skills were exceptional. He overlooked the brigadiers, ensuring their loyalty to me. And those brigadiers were captains of a small group of shestyorka [foot soldiers]. Like everything in nature, my bratva had a hierarchy.

Speaking of Aleksey, he was shocked after witnessing his precious custom-made Ferrari explode. Because of his surprise, he suffered a bullet wound in his left arm. To say he hated Phoenix was an understatement.

After the explosion, there was a shootout between my men and Mogilevich's minions. I snorted to think that weak говнюк [shithead] actually believed he would win. No, he was just an unnecessary inconvenience when I had the Italians to worry about.

Now, the old man was rotting in our cells. His pathetic gang ceased to exist.

I ran a hand through my hair with exasperation and leaned against a counter as Mila stitched the wound on the her head. What the hell was this скуа trying to prove? That she could escape? That she wasn't the weak little whore I thought she was? It didn't matter. Why? Because she was a witness and witnesses died.

I pulled out my phone and called Aleksey. He picked up immediately.

"Ilya?" He sounded pissed.

"Has he said anything yet?"

Aleksey scoffed. "He has the emblem tattooed onto his face, what did you expect?"

I gritted my teeth. "Does he have family?"

"I have people looking," he replied smoothly. This was all part of a process. He knew what needed to be done.

"Do what you have to."

He never hesitated. "I will."

"Also, did you do that background check on the сука?"

"Yes." He paused. "She's clear."

I fought a growl. So she'd have to be killed soon.

"Dimitri?" the doctor called.

I looked at her.

"She's shivering."

My gaze trailed to Phoenix and indeed, she was shaking. Why? The сука was still wearing that short little dress. Her tan legs and arms were bare. This was Russia for God's sake!

I turned back to the nurse. "ты сделал?" [Are you done?]

"да," she nodded. [Yes.]

Then, with a sigh, I took off my shirt and put it over the unconscious girl's head. Once her frame was swallowed by my large tee, I lifted her into my arms and began to carry her out of the infirmary.

"Dimitri?" the nurse called again.

I turned back around and raised a single brow.

She didn't cower. "I need to know where you're taking her so I can check up on her health and redress the-"

"The basement," I said bluntly.

Her eyes widened. "The basement? But- but she can't-"

I ignored the rest of her sentence and left. I didn't need to hear it, nor did I want to. The сука needed to learn why she couldn't cross me again.

As if she heard my thoughts, a quiet groan left her lips. I realised I was holding her thighs too hard. The bare, soft flesh moulded around the my rough fingers. As my grip eased, her expression softened and the сука lent into me, cold against my hot chest.

I tore my gaze away from her angelic features and shook off a slight tightness in my chest. After a short ride down in the elevator, the doors open to reveal the basement of the Ivanov Mansion. Immediately, as I walked out, I was greeted by the sight of a girl, clad only in black lingerie. Behind her, I noticed that another similarly dressed woman was entertaining one of my men, dancing on his lap.

I ignored the dozens of sultry stares and made my way to the farthest corner of the floor. Room 101 was one I visited often. I swung Phoenix over my shoulder to free one hand and then knocked. After two long frustrating minutes, the door opened.

Katarina stood, arms crossed against her naked chest. Her blonde hair fell to cover most of her nudity and her dark eyes stared back at me boldly. The only thing she wore was a black thong and even that failed to cover anything.

I pushed past her and lay Phoenix on the unmade queen sized bed that was in the centre of the room. Mismatched pieces of lingerie lay strewn across the floor and furniture. The dressing table was cluttered with different tubes of lipstick and other such products. The tall armoire stood wide open and various pieces of clothing hung out. To say the least, the dancer was messy and unorganised.

"What is this shit? Why is everything so messy?" I snapped, moodily. "что это?" [What is this?]

"Don't chat shit with me, Ivanov," she said snarkily. "Who's that? You know that's not my style."

"Молчи!" I spat, "I'm not in the mood. And as for her, meet your new roommate, Katerina." [shut up]

The woman looked surprised for a second but like I expected, it soon dissolved into rage.

"что за хрень Ivanov!" she screeched, throwing her hands in the air, "you promised me I wouldn't have to deal with the others!" [what the fuck]

I reigned in my temper. "She's not a stripper. I need you to keep an eye on her."

"So I'm a babysitter now? You know what, I'm don-"

She attempted to walk past me but my hand shot out to grab her arm. "You do not leave without my permission. Ever, Rina. You know that."

Katarina crept closer to me, trailing a long pink nail down my bare chest. "I know, baby, just let me-"

"Sex will not change my mind, Katarina," I growled, removing her hand.

"Fine," she huffed, "I'll be your fucking babysitter. Let's see how well that goes." Her tone sounded almost conspiratorial.

I stared her down. "You will behave, Rina," I warned.

She stayed quiet, but her arms remained crossed against her chest in protest. Sometimes this сука could be impossible.

Rolling my eyes, I stormed out of the room.

Perhaps, this was be a bad idea. Those two together could make my life hell.

𝑥𝑜
𝖗𝖔𝖘𝖆𝖛𝖎