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LAWS OF THE WOLF 41
Somewhere in the darkness of the yard, where the bullet flew, there was a sound of falling, but I was not at all interested in it.I imagined our meeting many times, but never until that moment had I realized how scary it would actually be. Terribly exciting.Just his smell made me dizzy, and my eyes were captivated, and I felt like a stupid girl in a dress with peas, who was breathlessly waiting for his touch.A rough hand with unusual tenderness lay on my cheek, and it instantly flared with heat. The smell of cigarettes, silver, and a fresh gunshot tickled his nose more, leaving a smell of gunpowder on his skin.This bouquet was intoxicating, and the body seemed weightless more and more confidently, while the heat from his palm spread all over my skin, and there was nothing stronger than the desire to snuggle up to him until I heard a baby cry - the most heartbreaking sound for a mother.It was as if I was overwhelmed. I took off and rushed into the house, seized by only one crazy t
LAWS OF THE WOLF 42
Through my sleep, I thought I heard the sound of a shovel. I wanted to get up and check if the gang of scumbags had really thought of nothing else but to bury the corpse right in the yard, but I changed my mind and put my hand deeper under the pillow.After all, what was the difference? Even though they said that lightning never strikes the same place twice, it was still dangerous to stay in the cottage, so what did I care about the corpse buried in his backyard?"I didn't even look at him," I thought through my sleep.Although, I think I already guessed who ... who he was: that wolf from the supermarket.Too bad I only thought of this now. Life taught me, taught me, but I was stupid anyway.The interest of men in female forms was as old as the world, but in my past I should have guessed a hundred times that the young wolf was interested not only in my buffers, because he perfectly saw that I was alone, loaded with packages, with money, in a car, but It didn't even occur to me at the
LAWS OF THE WOLF 43
It seemed to me that I ran away so far that I literally found myself on the other side of the world, but some two days of off-road travel, and now I was again ... at home.Volkodav could not hide his surprise when I said that the end point was to be Angelov's residence. Well, if he thought that returning home meant not only returning to the cursed city, but also to his loft, then he was mistaken.There is no better place than home... Boris told me something similar when he took me from the hospital, and I did not feel anything like that when we passed the gates of his residence damaged by the explosion.The gang of the wolfhound parted in different directions even when we had just left the track closest to the cottage. A column of motorcycles would attract too much attention, and most of the way with all the gas stations and millions of thoughts that we would crash around the next bend, we drove together.The wheels rustled on the gravel, and the motorcycle stopped at the main entranc
LAWS OF THE WOLF 44
I remember when I first entered what I thought was my house, I was amazed at how luxurious it was inside. I even wanted to spin in a glamorous dress and high heels under the glare of an immense crystal candelabra that hung majestically from the ceiling in a spacious hall that evoked comparisons with the atmosphere of the 20s or 30s.However, now, beating off the wooden parquet of the second floor with a metal hairpin, not a single picture in a gilded frame, not a single antique candlestick and not a single majestic door of the rooms, except for the one behind which Boris's office was, and where I sent Martha to put the laptop on charge, if He, of course, was there, did not cause me any delight. However, there were no opposite sensations, inspired by the smell of perfume and the smell of Boris preserved in the house, either.In the end, it was my father's house, that is, mine by right, and even more so thanks to the efforts of the same Boris, who made me his official wife.I went down
LAWS OF THE WOLF 45
Boris's residence was far outside the city, and closer to noon the airspace above it was filled with the rumble of an approaching helicopter.When Astakhov left, I made some inquiries about Ibragimov and his law firm. Their Internet site was designed with claims to the status and rich history of the family business, offering a full range of both legal and financial services that all segments of society could hardly afford.As for Ibragimov himself, there were three of him, or rather them: Mark Anatolyevich, Dmitry Markovich and Mikhail Markovich.Alyosha did not indicate the initials of the right one, so I did not specify who exactly I needed, but something told me that both the father and the sons had all the information I needed, the only question was who would respond to the call of the widow of the former owner of the city : an old wolf or one of the young ones?The answer was not long in coming, and when I looked out the window, a young, tall, well-built man in a suit and with a
LAWS OF THE WOLF 46
I closed the door behind him and, returning to the table, drank the bourbon in one gulp.It was difficult to put aside thoughts about my son, but I managed to focus on a conversation with a lawyer. Whether he realized that I was cut off from Boris's affairs or not was unimportant, as well as what he thought of me. Maybe it was even better that he took me for a fool, because something serious was usually not expected from fools.The main thing now was that he confirmed one of my worst guesses: six months ago, someone made sure that my signature miraculously appeared in the inheritance documents, and this same someone left some orders on my behalf to keep the business afloat.Question: who and for what purpose?Was it the one who sent a guest to my house? Maybe it was made to smoke me out? Forced to return to the city?It is unlikely that this was Boris's brother. If he looked at least a little like him, my signature would not be anywhere, but he clearly claimed something, since he inte
LAWS OF THE WOLF 47
To say that Rosa's words left me with an unpleasant aftertaste was an understatement. It was one thing to admit that I had made a mistake by returning to the city, and quite another to hear confirmation of this. I would have bitten my elbow, but it was already too late to bite even two.I had no reason not to believe her, but on the other hand, I just wanted to shout out "What the hell?!"As children, my brother and I often heard in our slums fairy tales about the great Valery Stanislavsky, which mother tearfully fed, telling in the evenings about how gentle father was, and how he would love us, and how he would take care of us, and other shit , unfamiliar with loneliness, fear and longing.Now, many years later, I was sitting in his house, but already in the chair of a wolf who organized his murder and took the place of the owner of the city, who ordered me to be beaten, raped and killed, and then fucked me in the same house, sang praises, gave jewelry , who made me his wife, and who
LAWS OF THE WOLF 48
Astakhov left, leaving behind acrid smoke and a taste of bitterness in his mouth. Night fell imperceptibly, and the rain fell, ruthlessly filling the dimly lit room with the thoughts I had promised her when I returned here. And all of them, of course, were about Nikita.At some point, they became unbearable, like the smell of cigarettes left by the wolfhound, and I opened the balcony wide open, turned off the light in the hope of falling asleep, but it only got worse: the dream did not go at all, and every rustle from the street seemed to revive not only my thoughts about my son, but memories of those days that I spent at the residence with Boris, and indeed memories of my whole life.I saw faces, heard voices, smelled and touched, heard shots and moans, sweaty palms, and in them I alternately felt the weight of a gun.Closer to dawn, this torture began to come to an end, but there was another on the way, and the brighter it became, the more clearly I saw Boris. He stood by my bed and
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