THREE | Three Days!

Vladimir stormed out of the room, leaving a stunned Zarina behind. His smirk evaporated as soon as Zarina moved from his sight. He was suddenly all business and no play. His demeanor was void of emotion, just as he preferred and probably was.

He was making his way to his room, shirt half-open, exhibiting a streak of his tanned skin, and blazer low on his shoulder when his phone rang.

Despite the fact that he was awake, his eyes were tired as hell, and he was looking forward to a lengthy and relaxing bath. The call could, however, have been urgent. This type of organization required his undivided attention. He slipped his hand into the pocket of his trousers and took out his phone, not wanting to waste any more time.

“What?” he gritted out, ignoring the caller ID. He just wanted to get it over with, fully intending to make the caller’s life miserable if it didn’t turn out to be urgent.

When the caller responded, his brow furrowed, and he came to a halt.

“When?” he asked as calmly as he could.

“Fine. I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.” He hung up.

Vladimir was sitting regally in one of his enormous basement meeting rooms, reserved for important business gatherings only. He appeared as calm as a lazy summer afternoon, but his intense gaze was fixed on the door. He had only a few of his most trusted associates with him.

Vector, one of his top dogs, stood there like he owned the place to Vladimir’s right. His dark suit hugged his beefy frame, and his face was as expressionless as the night he’d abducted Zarina. He was on high alert, ready to jump at Vladimir’s orders. Behind him, two more black-suited henchmen, Marcus and Shane, lurked.

On Vladimir’s left was Michael, a man in his fifties, the only person in the room whom he deeply respected. Leaning half against the bar at the back of Vladimir, he was stirring his fourth scotch. Having worked in the organization for so long, he had earned immense respect and honor from every member. He was a business pioneer, and his suggestions had greatly benefited them in the past. His advice was invaluable within the organization and everyone knew better than to ignore him despite his old age.

No sooner had Michael downed his scotch in a single swig, Xavier, a young man in his late twenties, aggressively stomped inside and stood tall across the table where Vladimir was seated.

“Where is she?” Xavier barked, getting straight to the point. The young man was dressed in a crisp midnight suit, the top buttons of his shirt undone, while the tie hung loosely around his neck.

Vladimir stared at Xavier for a few seconds, taking in his exasperated look and irksome tone. He then, with no care in the world, shifted his stern gaze to Vector, who stood at his right.

“Red room,” Vector responded, obeying his master’s silent command.

“What the hell?” Xavier’s eyes widened while his fists clenched on his sides. His eyes turned redder than fire, and the bit of calmness he was trying to maintain had exploded in a single outburst. “What the fuck, Mir? She isn’t some prostitute! What sense does it make to put her in that filth?”

Vladimir’s lips twitched to one side. Still lounging in his comfortable chair, he leaned forward and whispered, “Just because we share the same blood doesn’t mean I won’t hesitate to cut out that tongue of yours. So be careful with that tone, brother.”

Xavier, undaunted, retorted, “And just because you’re older and the boss of this ruthless organization won’t stop me from revealing who you truly are.”

Xavier snapped back instantly. Unlike the others present, he appeared the least afraid of the formidable figure before him. He withdrew his hands from the table and resumed his previous standing posture, accentuating it with defiant features.

“Oh veramente! You know better. Who am I?” Vladimir rose from the chair, a menacing smirk playing on his plush lips as he took measured steps closer to his infuriated brother.

“You are nothing but a worthless piece of crap!” Xavier spat out without a hint of fear or regret on his face. “That’s who you are. Niente!”

“You have no idea how close you are to a bullet in your head,” Vladimir threatened, his teeth gritted and his jaw clenched. He wasn’t the most patient man, and he never made empty threats. He was the beast, and he only knew how to kill, but his brother always failed to take his warnings seriously.

Xavier didn’t budge. He would never cower in the face of his brother’s threats, and that wouldn’t change, no matter how violent they became. He had known Vladimir since childhood and still held onto the hope of finding the Mir he knew and respected, who was now lost and broken.

“Calm down, Mir! Lui è famiglia,” Michael saw no choice but to finally interfere, sensing the escalating tension in the room. The man was too old to see the two brothers at each other’s throats.

[He’s family.]

“I am calm. The fact that he’s standing on his feet and still breathing should be enough to prove that,” answered Vladimir, without diverting his deadly gaze from his younger brother, smirking bitterly.

“Xavier, you wanted that girl. She is here. Why don’t you take her and leave?” Michael said calmly as he walked toward the arguing men.

“I will. Gladly. But not now,” said Xavier, finally shifting his gaze to Michael, who was now standing between them.

Michael’s brows arched. “Why not?” he asked in utter confusion. “What’s the problem?”

“Your men are the fucking problem, don’t you get it?” Xavier groaned, irritated, looking at Michael before glaring back at Vladimir. “Do you have any idea who the hell your men shot last night? An undercover agent. A freaking agent!” Xavier shook his head, running a hand through his hair.

“What?” Michael’s eyes widened in shock. Vladimir, however, remained unfazed, rolling his eyes out of boredom.

Michael turned to Vector for an explanation, but Vector just bowed his head and maintained his silence.

“Now the entire department is involved in this mess. This time they won’t let it go,” Xavier sighed. “I need time. Till everything settles down. I’ll take her then,” he added with the hope that at least Michael would understand.

Yet Vladimir’s expression said otherwise.

“Don’t fuck with me, Xavier. She can’t stay here. Just take her and never show your face here again,” Vladimir was losing his patience. He took a step back and walked to his chair. The patience he was trying to maintain couldn’t calm his urge to lash out at someone.

“Even I can’t risk keeping her here, but what choice do we have?” Xavier looked at Michael, hoping the old man would understand. “She’s a tourist. The cops are after her like bloodhounds. She can’t leave this place. At least for a week.”

“A week?” Vladimir scoffed, his outburst drawing everyone’s attention. In a fit of anger, he kicked the chair he had been sitting on, causing it to go flying and smash against the wall.

“Why not? Are you afraid of something, Mir?” Xavier all but teased, knowing full well the harsh gravity of the situation.

“You weren’t born yesterday, were you?” Vladimir growled lowly. “I am Vladimir. I fear none.” He turned to face Xavier.

“Maybe this Vladimir doesn’t, but the Mir I knew did.” Xavier’s eyes softened. “He feared. He fucking cared.”

Vladimir scoffed. “He died long ago. You and your good-for-nothing father burned him alive.”

“Respect, Mir! He’s your father too.”

“Yeah. In hell.”

“You are afraid, Mir. I can see it. It’s fucking clear in your eyes,” replied Xavier, taking one step closer to Vladimir and pointing his finger at him.

Vladimir locked his gaze on Xavier. Daring him to go one step further or say another word. Xavier remained motionless, unfazed by his brother’s ready-to-kill gaze.

It irritated Vladimir to no end. His glares spit fury at Xavier. If only they could kill, his brother would have kissed his grave long ago. But something was preventing him from tearing his brother’s tongue or head from his body. His palms were buzzing with the need for blood. While giving Xavier death stares, his hand moved to his back and reappeared, brandishing a handgun.

Gunshots echoed around the room.

“Ahhh…fuck!” groaned Vector, pressing up against his shoulder, in a failed attempt to stop the bleeding.

“You fucked up, Vector, you pay for it!” Vladimir growled, without even sparing him a casual glance. It was as if he couldn’t care, as if he was pissed off enough to kill someone with reason or without.

“I’m sorry, boss,” Vector moaned, clenching his jaw and clutching his flesh wound to halt further blood loss. He was in excruciating discomfort, but he refused to move from his position.

“Three days.” Vladimir slammed the gun down on the table. “That’s all you have.”

“Fine,” Xavier huffed, “I’ll take her after three days.”

“Good. Now leave,” Vladimir said as he strolled back to his chair, which had been replaced by one of his men.

“Not before you move her somewhere else. She won’t stay in that Red Room,” Xavier stated, causing Vladimir to pause.

Vladimir turned with a deeper frown. “That’s your problem, Xavier. Do whatever you damn well, please. You aren’t any guest here.” Without turning twice, he walked back to the bar, grabbed a bottle of rum, and poured a glass for himself. God, he just wanted to be alone. Just wanted to forget all of this ever happened, but could that be so easy?

“Fine.” Xavier stared at his back, sighing. “Then I’ll take her to where she belongs. Her own room. You don’t mind now, do you, brother?”

“Just Leave,” Vladimir whispered softly under his breath, taking a long swig and hoping his brother would listen to him once.

Xavier heard him with all the clarity in the world but decided to say nothing. He stormed out of the basement instead, leaving a frustrated brother behind.