Mikhail
Our SUV idles on the shoulder of a two-lane highway, hidden by a thick grove of pine trees. In the distance, the ocean is visible to the left. A strip of churning blue between pale sand and a gray sky. I wait outside the vehicle in the chilly wind and watch the road for Pavel’s vehicle. Rurik is not too far away, but his only job, for now, is to guard Larissa at their house. The guards I trust are combing through the shambles of the penthouse for clues and examining surveillance to identify the individuals who raided my home. I had to leave without Pavel after receiving Maria’s message. I had to hurry to save her and trust Zakhar wouldn’t try to kill me along the way.
But who can I trust now? The tourists are long gone, and I stare down the empty highway as the wind picks up. The movement makes a soft chant in my ears and warns me not to repeat this mistake. Trusting people shouldn’t be a mistake, but it is. But I don’t have any other options. I spot the SUV approaching and lift my hand as Pavel flashes the lights. He stops a distance away as I jump into the back seat of our vehicle.
Zakhar is on his phone, and his expression grows grimmer the longer the call lasts. The call ends, and he stares at me, not eager to say what I already suspect. “Alexander is gone,” he reveals.
“Do you know where?” I ask as he starts the vehicle.
“No, my contact doesn’t have that information yet,” he pauses, then replies.
“Fuck,” I curse. “My men are stretched thin after this last attack, and I have to question which of them are loyal to me.”
“Will you do something, Mikhail?” Maria stares at me in the rearview mirror, then turns to look at me.
“Of course,” I tell her firmly.
But Zakhar shakes his head. “The Ivanov Bratva can’t do this alone,” he says. “The recent fighting has crippled the Bratva. You don’t have the power or resources to get Mercy back in time. Not after what I did.”
Staring at the backlights of Pavel’s SUV ahead, I struggle to maintain composure. “If someone doesn’t act swiftly, we’ll lose her for good. And it’s my men who did this, so therefore, it’s my responsibility,” I reply distantly. “Vito would’ve been justified if he had shot me on the spot. The stakes are too high to back down.”
“I understand,” Zakhar continues, “but the Bratva will not aid the Mafia voluntarily. Your men aren’t going to help rescue a Lanzzare princess. You’ll need to ask her family for help.”
Sighing, I seethe at the thought of having to ask for help from people I detest. “No,” I say through gritted teeth. “We’ll figure something else out. We’re going to get Mercy back. Even if it’s just the two of us.”
Zakhar lapses into quiet concentration as he maneuvers through the gridlock leading into Manhattan. We’ve avoided speaking about my obvious relationship with Maria or the heinous damage he caused the Ivanov. I will always think about Anton lying on the floor, bleeding to death, at my wedding, which ended before we could take our vows. My fists clench, and I must blank my mind, or I will punch this man in the head.
“You have to talk to Uncle Vito.” Maria’s voice comes from the front seat. “You have to have a plan.”
“Maria.” I look at her, and her wary expression stops me before I can speak. I realize Maria is on the edge of transformation and teetering on the brink of two worlds. She’s caught in a fragile balance between dark and light, moral and wrong, both competing to take her. I dragged her from her sheltered life, tipping the scales, and she’s fallen into the dangerous world where I have to exist.
“Maria,” I reach out to take her hand. “I can do this.”
“Maybe not alone,” she whispers earnestly. “You don’t have to do it alone, Mikhail. You only have to ask.”
My jaw tightens as I answer. “It’s not that simple, Maria.”
She pulls her hand out of my grasp and folds her arms. “If I had a gun, I would have shot them all dead myself,” she says.
“Maria!” Zakhar’s voice is abrupt but doesn’t stop her from speaking.
“The person I was before all of this …” she says to herself. “Does she even exist anymore?”
“Of course she does.” I stare at her. “And I’ll be damned if I let the Bratva take her away from me-from us.”
There’s a brief moment where the old Maria looks back at me-the one full of love and hope and innocence. But it’s fleeting, and soon, the burning hate that has taken up residence in her soul returns to her eyes, fueled by fear and hatred that I’ve created.