All Chapters of The Pakhan's Undoing : Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

Dominique ( Present day ) I had no idea how long I had been kept inside the empty room. My chest was hurting badly and I was having trouble breathing. I think they may have broken my ribs. I laid on the floor holding my belly with my eyes closed wondering if Nikolai had fulfilled his promise of taking Doug to the hospital. I wondered if Doug was fine. I also wondered where my mom and Asher were being kept. I began counting to help me drift off but my counting was interrupted by the sound of the door being opened. I refused to open my eyes, hoping that whoever came in would go out soon. " Get up. " A voice said. I slowly opened my eyes and weakly raised my head. A tall guy, maybe a little older than me stood in the room lazily twirling a gun in his left hand. " Why? Where are we going?" I asked. " Your room. " " My what? " " The Pakhan has ordered that you be given a room. " I snorted. " The Pakhan. " I said in a tone of disbelief. " I will never get over the f

Nikolai. Shit! That piece of shit really shot me. Thank goodness it was my arm. Dmitri was holding me trying to apply pressure on the wound. My boys, almost a dozen of them had gathered and were beating up Dominique. I should let them beat him to death but he could only die by my hands. No one else had the right to take his life not even him. " Enough!" I yelled. Everyone stood still but one of the boys made sure he added an extra kick. Dominique was writhing and groaning in pain. " Call Andrea. " Dmitri said to Roman. Roman rushed out with another of my boys. The rest rallied round me shouting and panicking. They half carried me out of the room down to the east wing where my room was. " Put me down you dimwits and quit fussing. " I said irritatedly. They helped me onto the sofa, arranging my legs on the table. " Pakhan. Are you okay? " Rusev said massaging my legs. " Get him water!" " It's just my arm you fools. I'm not dying. I've survived worse. " " Whe

Dominique. Roman stopped in front of a pair of double doors. “This is his room.” I looked at the doors, then at him. He gave me a look that wasn't exactly reassuring. “I hope you come out alive.” I frowned. “That's supposed to make me feel better?” “No.” He glanced at the tray in my hands. “ But if you don't come out, I'll have them prepare a nice funeral for you.” I rolled my eyes. “Get lost.” Roman actually smiled. “Good luck.” He walked away. I turned toward the doors and pushed them open. Nikolai's room was enormous. It was easily three times the size of the room they'd given me. A massive bed dominated the centre of the room, surrounded by dark wooden furniture and floor-to-ceiling windows. There was a sitting area, a private bar, shelves filled with books and what looked like an entire dressing room beyond another door. Of course. Even his bedroom had to remind me who he was. Nikolai was half-seated against the headboard, his injured ar

Dominique. I hated that Nikolai had kept his word. Somehow, that bothered me more than if he hadn't. Men like him weren't supposed to honor deals. They were supposed to twist them until you were the one losing everything. Yet here I was, walking beside Roman through the estate because Nikolai had agreed to let me see my family. I glanced at him. “Where exactly are we going?” “Underground.” I stopped walking. Roman continued for two steps before noticing I wasn't beside him anymore. “Underground?” “That's where they're being held.” “You couldn't have mentioned that before?” “You didn't ask.” I stared at him. Roman simply looked back at me. I hated how calm he always was. “Fine.” I caught up with him. We walked through a narrow corridor I'd never seen before. Roman stopped in front of a heavy metal door guarded by two men. One of them unlocked it. Cold air hit my face the moment it opened. My stomach tightened. I followed Roman down the stai

Nikolai. I stared at the door long after Dominique disappeared behind it. There had been blood beneath his nose. For a second, I considered going after him. Then I dismissed the thought. Dominique had always been dramatic when he was angry. If he wanted to make me feel guilty, bleeding on my floor was certainly one way to try. I turned back toward the room. The tumbler was still scattered across the floor, the broken glass reflecting the light from the chandelier. A knock came at the door. “Come in.” Dmitri entered. His eyes moved from the mess on the floor to me. “You look angry.” “I am.” “Dominique?” I gave him a look. He wisely said nothing more. Instead, he pulled a thin black folder from inside his coat and placed it on the table. “We have a lead.” That caught my attention. “On?” “The first target.” I picked up the folder and opened it. A photograph stared back at me. Llewellyn Thomas. Forty-nine. Former logistics contractor. Three