Mikhail
An unexpected rain pelts the windshield as I pull up to Larissa’s house. Pavel went to aid Rurik, following orders to meet here afterward. But no one is around, and the house looks peaceful from the outside. The rain runs off the roof, forming small puddles on the stone walkway that leads to the door.
The curtains are drawn, and the shrubs have been trimmed to perfection. Everything appears tranquil and calm in the light rain. Have I made a mistake? A chill runs through me as I wonder if the Lanzzare have set up an ambush. The thought angers me that they could be using my sister to get me. I put the car in park and jump out, sprinting toward the door, ignoring the rain.
I have to find Larissa now and make sure she’s safe.
My key sticks in the lock as I try to turn it. Rurik is against keypads, and I take a deep breath and steady my hands as I turn the key again. When the door finally swings open, a confused but unharmed Larissa is standing in the hallway, staring at me and then the door.
“Jesus, Kolya, what’s gotten into you?” she asks. “I heard the noise and thought someone was breaking in.”
“Your phone,” I blurt out. “You didn’t answer it.” I walk past her, eyeing the hallway. It’s empty except for both of us, and my eyes move cautiously from one end to the other, looking for any signs of danger. “I’ve been calling you since I left Manhattan.” I spin around to face her. “Are you alone?”
Larissa frowns at me like I’m crazy for giving a damn. She walks into the enclosed patio to check her phone. Shaking her head, she shows me the screen-no notifications. “I didn’t get any calls, Kolya,” she scoffs. “You know how spotty cell reception can be around here.”
“Maybe,” I concede, but something doesn’t feel right. “I’ll check outside.”
I step back into the rain and scan the area, searching for anything that might explain the lack of communication. My gut instincts are shrieking at me, warning me that this is not spotty cell reception. And then I find it-a small, inconspicuous device hidden in the bushes facing the house.
It’s a signal jammer.
“Fuck!” I curse under my breath as I rip the phone jammer from its hiding place. “Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!”
Someone is fucking playing games with me, and I raced right into their trap. A cold dread washes over me, colder than the rain. I freeze in place. My men are scattered all over the city, and Maria is unprotected and alone at the penthouse with only the staff to defend her. They won’t be enough.
Lara stares at me as I run back into the house. She takes a sharp breath and holds it, watching me intently with wide eyes. “What’s wrong? Is Rurik safe?”
“Stay here,” I tell Larissa, ignoring her question. She knows he would have been the first one here. “Lock the doors. Don’t let anyone in.”
She nods, understanding the gravity of the situation without asking for further explanation, at least not from me. “Be careful, Kolya,” she says.
“I will.” I keep my voice steady. “Rurik will come back, Lara.” But deep down, I know that careful may not be enough this time.
My hands grip the steering wheel. I race back to the penthouse like the devil is behind me.
People flood the crosswalks, going about their business while my life is spinning out of control. My mind flips through every possible scenario. I pray nothing is wrong, but I know better. Who could they be targeting? Maria? Mercy? The thought of either one of them in danger sends a surge of protectiveness and desperation through me. Maria, I love, and Mercy is my responsibility.
As the tires screech beneath me, I navigate the slick streets, cursing myself for ever leaving Maria alone. Love and revenge have become tangled up in my life, and now it seems the Bratva that once promised power has turned against me.
I just hope I’m not too late.
The penthouse elevator opens, and I step into a nightmare.
No …
Furniture is upended, and shattered glass covers the floor. It crunches beneath my feet as I look at the blood splattered across the carpet.
No, no, no!
I stare at my collection of priceless artworks, shredded but still hanging on the wall. But there’s only one thing precious to me.
“Maria!” I shout.
There’s no reply, only an eerie silence answers me. My heart pounds, each beat a hammer against my rib cage as I search frantically through the chaos. I run up the spiral staircase, hoping she’s safe in the room I once kept her.
The bedroom is empty, but I shout their names anyway. “Maria! Mercy!” I hurry back downstairs and slow my step as a young cook from the kitchen walks timidly into the hallway. He stops by the open office door.
Visibly shaken, he stares at me. “She’s hurt badly.” He becomes agitated when he sees my desperate expression. “Dominika,” he clarifies quickly. “Over here in the office.”
Dominika is lying on the couch, her white dress stained red. Her face is ghostly pale, and her blonde hair is matted with blood. Her eyes are closed tight with pain, and her breaths are shallow rasps. Gently, I try to assess the extent of her injuries. Despite the loss of blood, she’s fiercely determined to live.
Determined to make one final report to me.
“Who did this?” I demand of the cook, who watches us in silence.
But Dominika answers me herself.
“The brigadiers. They took the girls,” she gasps with pain. “I tried, Kolya … I’m so sorry.” She calls me by the name I haven’t heard from her lips since I became a man.
“Stay with me.” My order sounds like a plea. “We’ll find them and bring them home.”
The young cook looks at me with uncertainty. “Is there anything I can do, Mikhail Ivanov?”
I place a thick throw over Dominika to keep her warm. “Stay with her.”
“Dammit!” I curse. The drawers along the shelving unit have been forced open and the contents emptied onto the floor. Without checking, I know the journals are gone. I should have been here. I should have protected them. I should have listened.
I search every corner of the penthouse for God knows how long. Focusing on what I must do, I take a deep breath and push my emotions aside. I can’t let anger overtake me now. It won’t help Maria.
Suddenly, the elevator chimes, and I spin around, my gun drawn and ready for battle. But when the doors open, it’s not an enemy that steps out but Vito and Zakhar, led by a guard. Their faces pale with shock as they take in the destruction.
“What happened?” Zakhar demands. He turns in circles, scanning the demolition of my home.
“Brigadiers,” I manage to choke out. “They took Maria and Mercy.”
“Where? Where are they?” Zakhar roars.
I get in his face. “I don’t know. The brigadiers did this and took them.” My rage increases as Zakhar stares at me like I’m a worthless fuck. “They kidnapped them, old man.”
“You lying bastard!” Zakhar roars in a murderous rage. “Where is my daughter!”
He steps forward, his fists clenching and unclenching, but I don’t move an inch. He lunges at me, hands reaching for my throat, and I let him.
I laugh in his face as he tries to squeeze the life out of me. It’s what I deserve, what we both deserve for failing.
Vito intervenes, pushing Zakhar off me with a harsh curse.
“You said you wouldn’t pull shit.” Vito pins him against a wall. “He told you who was responsible. Killing Mikhail is exactly what they want you to do.” Vito stares down Zakhar. “We need his help to find our daughters.”
“Couldn’t resist one more try?” I rub my throat. “This isn’t about sides anymore. It’s about family. Our family, Zakhar.”
He glares at me, hatred simmering beneath the surface. But then he nods grudgingly. “Family,” he repeats. “But once we find them, you and I-we have unfinished business.”
“Deal,” I reply, knowing this truce is weak at best. But for now, it’s enough.
“Good,” Vito smooths his jacket. “Maybe we can tolerate each other long enough to save Maria and Mercy.”
The cook enters the living room and stares at me. “Mikhail Ivanov.”
“Shit,” I hurry into the room, followed by Zakhar and Vito. The sight of Dominika hits them both in the gut, and I no longer have to convince them that this isn’t a setup.
Recognition flickers in Zakhar’s gaze as he towers over Dominika’s fragile form. The sight of her has an unexpected impact on him, as his bravado leaves him and his shoulders slump. They had a history long before I was born, though I never knew the whole story. Seeing her frail figure and bloodied clothes must have brought back a flood of memories he tried to suppress.
Zakhar hesitates before finally approaching the couch and slowly sinks to his knees beside her. “Dominika?” he whispers.
Her eyelids flutter open, and she weakly turns her head to the side. “Privyet, Zakhar,” she murmurs softly. Her cracked lips gently part, releasing a thin trail of blood. She gasps for air between each word. “Your vengeance is directed at the wrong person.”
“And how do you know this?” Zakhar demands as she places her shaky hand on his arm.
“The brigadiers took the girls. Don’t let them trick you the way they tricked Gennady. They also tore away what he loved most.”
He scowls at her. “Save your breath,” he snarls. “Stop dumping guilt on me.”
Dominika doesn’t falter against his intense gaze. Her eyes remain locked on his, determined to make him understand. “Your daughter has found happiness with Mikhail. Let her pick the man she wants. She’s so much like Aria.”
“Where did they take them?” His voice is desperate.
Dominika’s smile turns sad. “She’s a remarkable person. And she’s just like you.”
With those final words, Dominika’s hand slips from Zakhar’s arm, and her body goes limp as she succumbs. She held on for this moment to make sure we knew the truth.
“We have to find them,” Zakhar declares. “Before it’s too late.”
Vito responds with a solemn nod. “We’ll get our daughters back, I promise.”
“Not our daughters.” Zakhar’s low tone is ominous. “The brigadiers.”