Kyle Molotov
Great. So, the homicidal wolf was off the leash, the damsel was once again in distress, and I was the only one with a goddamn functioning brain cell in this entire house.
Well, Romanovski family was going to lose its shit once they hear this.
I didn’t blame them.
If my psychopathic unhinged son turned into a raging lunatic over some woman, I’d be fucking concerned too. Judas motherfucking Romanovski in love? That’s like handing a rabid wolf a fucking chew toy and expecting it not to shred it to pieces.
But this wasn’t just any woman-this was her. Seraphina Rosewood. The brat I had the pleasure of babysitting in Russia. The goddamn Juliet to his unhinged, bloodthirsty Romeo.
Judas was losing his goddamn mind. And when Judas lost his mind, people ended up in body bags. That meant more work for me.
I cracked my knuckles, exhaling sharply as Rivera muttered into the earphone. “I always figured if Romanovski ever lost his shit, it’d be over something like, I don’t know, an assassination attempt. Maybe a billion-dollar deal going sideways. Definitely not a woman.”
Ralph shot me a look that could peel the skin off a corpse. Glad he couldn’t hear what the bastard was muttering in my fucking ears. “This isn’t just a woman, Rivera. Fucking speed this up and tell me if there’s some kind of… trap.”
“Yeah, yeah.” The bastard must be rolling his eyes and I turned my head visibly uncomfortable by Ralph Romano’s glare. “No causalities, Molotov. Though, I fear the files you gave me are encrypted.”
“Encrypted to what? Decode it. I don’t care.”
Fuck my life.
I should be in Japan, finding my father-not dancing to the tune of Judas fucking Romanovski.
And to make matters worse? He just blew up Lucius’s warehouses. I wouldn’t be surprised if he set the forest on fire.
Like a normal man would drown his sorrows in whiskey, maybe punch a wall, Judas decided to detonate entire goddamn buildings. Of course he did.
But a job was a job. I needed Romanovski power for my own sick purpose. So unless the files were uploaded on the server, Morozov’s death would be meaningless. He needed to be destroyed before that. Shit. Did I have to involve Ralph Romano in this? He was the only one I had access at that moment. If I somehow asked Alexei, well, let’s not go there. After the encounter with him I barley had any patience to deal with the man.
Though not like Ralph was any better. The man was a vulture in a thousand-dollar suit. I had no doubt that if his biological son died, I’d be next on the fucking list.
So, I told him.
“Mr Romano?”
His gaze snapped to mine, as if he wanted to dissect me. I noticed he was holding a cup of coffee, probably the exhausted day with all that Zayne and Mrs Romanovski’s situation. I cleared my throat, looking dead into his eyes. “If your son dies, I expect an early funeral invitation.”
His eyes darkened. “Excuse me?”
I sighed, stretching my tongue lazily cause now I had to talk to another bloody psychopath. “Judas is about to go nuclear,” And I was the poor bastard stuck keeping him from turning this city into a fucking wasteland. But if he was dead? Well. That meant I was next. And I really didn’t want to spend my last hours writing a eulogy.
Ralph exhaled sharply, his fingers tapping against his watch like he was calculating just how much of a pain in the ass I was being.
“She’s been taken again.” I pinched the bridge of my nose.
“Again?”
Ralph ignored my existence but I followed after him. “Judas went in alone. We haven’t heard from him in twenty minutes.” Twenty minutes in Romanovski time. That was about three body counts and a fucking city-wide lockdown
A muscle in Ralph’s jaw twitched, and for the first time since this conversation started, I actually saw something in his eyes that resembled concern.
Fuck. That wasn’t a good sign.
“Tell me you at least have the goddamn location,” He muttered, rubbing a hand down his face.
I glanced at my watch, then at him. “I do. But the real issue is the files.”
He looked at me as if I have grown second head. Maybe I had. Cause no fucking way I could think with one. So I kept my tone, highly respectful and told him Judas’s plan. “There’re some files. Judas needs them on server before midnight. Otherwise Russian government would be after him after Vlad Morozov’s murder. It’s better if we frame Lucius Morozov before anything could happen. But he forgot to mention the files were encrypted with a Romanovski code.”
Ralph’s eyes narrowed. “We don’t discuss family codes with outsiders.”
I should have said.
Then how the fuck do you expect me to save your lunatic son? You want him to bleed out over some brat he stole? Because if that’s the case, I’ll sit back and let it happen. Saves me the trouble of dealing with his rage tantrums.
Instead I muttered. “It’s urgent, Mr Romano. Otherwise your son is as good as dead.”
For a second, I thought he’d actually tell me to go fuck myself. Instead, he studied me, that unnerving Romanovski stare dichotomizing every molecule of my soul.
I didn’t flinch. I had spent enough time in war zones to know when a man was calculating whether to put a bullet between your eyes or hand you a goddamn cigar.
Finally, he exhaled sharply.
“The code is embedded in the Romanovski archives,” he admitted. “It has to be manually decrypted. I’ll let Alexei know.”
I nodded. Ralph gave me the kind of look that said he’d murder me if I weren’t useful.
“Get in the car,” he ordered.
I nodded and quickly typed a message to Rivera. He’d decode the files once he get the codes from Alexei. That meant I could go after Judas and save him. If only he wasn’t already dead.
Ralph didn’t react. Probably too used to my bullshit at this point.
We moved fast. SUVs, dark suits, weapons ready. I checked my gun. Old Cliffside Villa.
Ralph drove like the devil was chewing at his heels, which, considering the circumstances, wasn’t far from the truth. I stared out the window, phone burning in my palm, waiting for Rivera’s confirmation.
Nothing yet.
Fucking fantastic.
“You think Judas is still alive?” I asked, because at this point, it was a fifty-fifty bet. Either he was still breathing or someone had already put a bullet in his arrogant skull. And if that happened, I’d be stuck cleaning up his mess. Again.
Ralph let out a sharp exhale, fingers tightening around the wheel. “My son doesn’t die easy.”
Yeah, well, neither does a cockroach, but I still see ’em squashed on the pavement.
Because now was the perfect time for parental sentimentality. I bit my tongue, mostly because I didn’t have time to fight with Judas’s father when we were both trying to drag his reckless ass out of this mess.
His phone rang. He picked it up, putting it on speaker.
“What the hell is taking so long?” A voice barked through the speakers-deep, pissed off, and way too important to be talking to us like we weren’t the ones keeping his entire operation from turning into a goddamn funeral.
Killian Schmidt judging by the accent. Did that mean Ralph already informed them of the situation? When?
Ralph didn’t flinch. “Because you gave me a shit code and expect miracles, you insufferable bastard.”
A pause. Then a low chuckle. “Still charming as ever, Ralphy.”
Yes, definitely Killian.
“Choke on it.” Ralph’s voice was all gravel and gunpowder. “Where’s Alexei?”
“Handling it.”
“Handle it faster, or I’ll handle you.”
I smirked despite myself. Ralph might be a raging psychopath, but at least he was an entertaining one.
I leaned back, phone vibrating in my palm. Rivera.
Files decrypted. On it.
I exhaled, only half the weight lifting from my shoulders. Judas wasn’t in the clear yet, but at least I wouldn’t have to watch his empire crumble over something as stupid as an encryption code.
Ralph was still growling into the phone.
If you knew what was good for you, you didn’t piss off a Romanovski when they were already seeing red.
I didn’t bother listening anymore. Same old shit-power plays, thinly veiled threats, men with too much money and too little patience barking at each other like rabid dogs. I’d seen this dance too many times to be impressed.
Instead, my thoughts drifted elsewhere. To another brat who had no business being in my head right now.
Anya Romanovski.
Fuck.
I rubbed a hand down my face, scowling at the window. Why did I miss her suddenly?
I shouldn’t. She was nothing but trouble, a walking hurricane wrapped in silk and sin, all sharp smirks and venomous wit. She lived to make my life hell, and I had no doubt that if she were here, she’d be laughing at this mess, making some sarcastic comment about how I should’ve let Judas rot.
And maybe she’d be right.
Maybe I should’ve walked away from this family the moment Judas put a gun in my hand and asked for my loyalty. Maybe I should’ve let them tear each other apart instead of playing babysitter to the most unhinged family in the criminal underworld.
But I didn’t. And I never would.
I told myself it was because of Judas. Because of the debt I owed him. Because no matter how much I hated the bastard sometimes, he was still my best friend. My brother in everything but blood.
But then why the fuck was it her face I saw whenever I thought about leaving?
I clenched my jaw.
It was nothing. Just the stress. The exhaustion. The fact that I’d spent the last twelve hours making sure Judas didn’t get himself killed while simultaneously resisting the urge to put a bullet in his head myself.
That had to be the reason.
Not her.
Not Anya Romanovski.
But the second her name crawled into my skull, it stuck like a parasite, sinking its venom into my already fucked-up brain.
Too close.
That was the problem with her. Always too close. Standing there like she belonged in my space, like she could peel away the layers of loathing I had for her existence just by looking at me with those green eyes.
I hated those fucking eyes.
Hated the way they studied me, pierced me, like she could see something past the walls I’d spent years cementing into place. Like she could see the shivering boy in the cold pavement.
I hated the way she smiled, too. Like a trap being laid.
I hated-
Fuck.
My grip on my phone tightened as an entirely different set of memories shoved their way in.
Her skin was soft beneath my fingers last time I touched her. Her breath catching in her throat, eyes dark with something neither of us wanted to name. My hands were between her thighs, pushing her apart like I had the right. Deep inside her cunt.
I hadn’t meant to touch her. Hadn’t meant to want to.
But she’d looked at me with that smug, knowing expression, and I’d snapped.
She was a Romanovski, and I should’ve hated every inch of her.
Instead, I’d wanted to defile every inch of her.
Fucking hell.
I dragged a hand down my face, exhaling sharply, trying to shove the memories back where they belonged.
It was a moment of weakness. That’s all.
A mistake.
One I wouldn’t make again.
Because Anya Romanovski might have been the brat I hated most in this world, but the worst part?
She knew I wanted her. And that made her dangerous.