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53

Autor: Abby
last update Data de publicação: 2026-10-18 11:17:57

Dmitri’s POV.

The dining room emptied eventually, but the argument stayed lodged under my ribs like a piece of glass.

I didn’t follow the others. I stayed in my chair long after the plates had been cleared, staring at the dark window that looked out over the side grounds. And the reflection of the chandelier sat in the glass like a cheap imitation of stars.

Somewhere upstairs a door closed. Somewhere else a shower started. The house returned to its usual low hum of movement, and none of it did
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  • PET FOR THE VOLKOV BROTHERS    65

    Dmitri’s POV.I stood in front of the small wardrobe in the bedroom and pulled the doors open. Inside were clothes faded shirts, a couple of light dresses, a pair of men’s shorts, a woman’s swimsuit that had seen better years. Nothing expensive. Nothing new. Just the kind of things people left behind when they stayed somewhere for a while and then moved on.“Looks like a couple lived here,” I said.Elena was sitting on the edge of the old mattress frame, carefully adjusting the bandage on her leg. She glanced up.“It’s not so bad as we thought,” I added.She rolled her eyes.“Yeah. Except my wounded leg.”I almost smiled. Almost.She watched me for a second longer, then asked the question that had been sitting between us since the morning.“Do you think Viktor got your message?”I looked down at the dead watch on my wrist. The screen had stayed black after that single short burst.“I really don’t know. It went off the second I pressed send. Could’ve gone through. Could’ve died halfwa

  • PET FOR THE VOLKOV BROTHERS    64

    Viktor’s POV.Its been a week now. Seven days of searches, and the same unfinished message sitting on every screen in the house like a taunt.Nikolai had pulled me out of the water after the second explosion. I still remembered the weight of the sea trying to keep me under, the way the cold had locked around my chest, and then the hard grip of his arm hauling me toward what was left of the floating wreckage. We had survived. Barely. The boat was gone. Two of the security men were confirmed dead. The rest of the detail had been scattered across the black water until rescue units we paid very well finally reached the coordinates.Dmitri and Elena had not been among the recovered.The only thing we had was a broken transmission a message from Dmitri, that reached one of our secondary channels two days after the attack. We got the message yes but there's was no location were exactly the could be.We are in a Unknown island… please find us.No way to lock a search grid tight enough to matt

  • PET FOR THE VOLKOV BROTHERS    63

    Elena’s POV.I woke to the soft sound of the tent fabric moving in the breeze.My eyes felt swollen and heavy. For a few seconds I only lay there, staring at the rough makeshift roof above me, trying to remember where I was and why everything hurt. Then the last two days returned in a slow, unwelcome wave the explosion, the sand, the blood, the fire, Dmitri’s arm around me while I fell asleep. I rubbed my face with both hands until my vision cleared and pushed myself up.The space beside me was empty.I stepped out of the tent carefully, legs still stiff and tender under the torn bandages. Morning light washed over the small beach in pale gold. The sea looked calmer than it had at night, a wide sheet of blue-green that stretched until it met the sky. And there, standing in the shallows with the water around his calves, was Dmitri.He was shirtless. The makeshift bandage I had torn from my own clothes was still wrapped around his midsection, darker in places where the wound had seepe

  • PET FOR THE VOLKOV BROTHERS    62

    Elena’s POV.Three days.Seventy-two hours of sand, salt, pain, and the same endless stretch of water that had refused to give us back to the world.The small island if it even deserved the name was little more than a rough curve of rock and pale sand with a thin line of stubborn trees farther inland. No lights on the horizon. There was no sign that anyone knew we were still breathing. The days were hot. The nights were colder than I expected, the kind of cold that settled into bruised skin and stayed there.Dmitri’s wound had been the first real problem we dealt with after the initial shock.The cut across his stomach was deep and ugly. On the first morning, when the light finally let us see the damage clearly, I tore strips from what was left of my clothes until my hands shook. He sat against a low rock and watched me work without complaint, jaw tight whenever the makeshift bandage pulled too hard.When it was done he made me sit still so he could clean and wrap the burns on my legs

  • PET FOR THE VOLKOV BROTHERS    61

    Elena’s POV.The first thing I felt was the sand. Coarse and Wet. Stuck to my cheek and the side of my neck like it belonged there. Then the pain arrived slow at first, and then it felt sharp all at once it stinh so bad a broken sound tore out of my throat before I could stop it. Salt water burned its way up from my lungs. I coughed hard, body folding in on itself as more water spilled from my mouth onto the dark sand. Each cough sent fresh agony through my ribs and down my legs.Wait my legs.I tried to move them and the scream that left me was raw and helpless. The skin felt wrong tight and it burned so bad, I've never felt this much pain in my entire life. I screamed every time I shifted. There were other wounds too, places on my arms and the side that pulsed with a deep, ugly heat I didn’t want to look at. Tears blurred everything. I couldn’t stop them. They kept coming, mixing with the seawater still dripping from my hair.This was supposed to be beautiful.Sun and open water

  • PET FOR THE VOLKOV BROTHERS    60

    Antonio Chris’s POV.The call had been dragging for nearly twenty minutes.On the other end of the line, one of my more careful buyers from the eastern routes kept circling the same concerns about delayed shipments and shifting dock schedules. His voice was measured and really respectful, the way men always sounded when they needed something from me but didn’t want to appear desperate. I listened with half my attention, leaning back in the leather chair behind my desk, a cigarette burning slowly between my fingers. The city lights beyond the reinforced glass looked distant and insignificant.“You’ll get the adjusted window by tomorrow,” I said, cutting through his latest complaint. “The product moves when I say it moves. Not before and not after. Are we clear?”He agreed quickly enough. I ended the call without waiting for further discussion and set the phone down. The cigarette had burned nearly to the filter. I crushed it out and reached for another, the familiar ritual steadying

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