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“I am never going back to that cage,” I murmured.

Crossing the living room, my fingers curled around the handle of the front door. I gave the thing a tug. The door was firmly secured to the frame, with multiple areas where it was tightly sealed. Each point of contact seemed to cling stubbornly, resisting any attempt to budge it. It was as if the door had been pressed into place with deliberate force, ensuring that it remained immovable and steadfast, refusing to yield even the slightest bit. I tugged again. With a shudder, it ripped free. Ancient hinges groaned in protest as the thick slab swung open.

The rush of humid evening air hit my face, bringing with it a tang and something else—an earthy, wild scent that I couldn’t place. It seemed salty, which made no sense. I stepped over the threshold, my heart pounding. Freedom beckoned just a few steps away.

My feet seemed to move of their own accord, drawn to the promise of the darkness. Out here, the rhythmic, machine-like drone was clearer now. I still couldn’t place the sound. What manner of industry required a crash like that? It was on repeat, slow and methodical. Maybe it wasn’t man-made at all, but something natural. But that was an even stranger possibility. Internally, I was torn between discovering the source of thenoise and escaping. The farther I traversed, the more insistent the sound became.

A surge of curiosity filled me. Sneaking a quick glance before I left wouldn’t do any harm. That was the whole point of this grand adventure. This urge for freedom was driven by my deep-seated desire for new experiences. I took a few steps to the left, cautiously approaching the tree line. The increased volume told me the source of the strange sound was just there, right beyond the trees.

A sharp crack split the air. I froze, every muscle tensing. It came again—a distinct snapping sound, like a branch breaking underfoot. My eyes darted to the tree line where darkness pooled between the trunks.

“Hello?” I whispered, then immediately regretted making any sound at all.

A shadow darted from the trees, abrupt and fast, then vanished again into the murk. I flinched, my mind racing. Was it only my imagination, or had something really been there? It moved so quickly! Something or someone had been hiding and was now on the move, tracking my every step. I squinted into the darkness, bracing myself for what might emerge. At least I was prepared for the worst now. Maybe I should have listened to the man. Swallowing hard, I weighed my options. Should I make a run for it? If I stayed and was caught, I might not ever have another chance to escape. Should I risk my freedom just to ease my mind, or was it reckless to carry on into the night? Another movement amongst the trees decided for me. I spun around and darted back for the safety of the cottage. My heartbeat was a staccato fortissimo! I dove past the door, slamming it shut behind me.

There was no lock.

Leaning against the hard piece of wood, I tried and failed to catch my breath. Iosif told me to stay inside. He was right. Whothe hell was I kidding?! I wasn’t a mobster; I’d had no experience dealing with situations like this.

But I wasn’t that scared fifteen-year-old who’d nearly been done in by thugs. I was grown up, I’d learned lessons. I would survive this too.

When I was certain I hadn’t been followed, I peeled myself off the door and trudged to a chair. The cushions let out a whoosh as I sank into their embrace.

What I knew with absolute certainty was that I’d been kidnapped and then rescued. My host allowed me to seek shelter here. Until I figured out where the hell I was, there didn’t seem any harm in staying put.

The steady roar, rush, and crash called through the window. I wet my lips, tasting the faintest hint of salt. What a strange place. The longer I listened, the more the sound seemed to transform into a melody. Lulled by the steady beat, I tucked my legs under me and let my mind quiet. No, it wasn’t so bad here after all.

Chapter 5 – Markos

“If we leave now, we can make it before the Russians leave New Orleans,” Iosif said, opening the door to the hangar. The rush of breeze, the sea’s gentle caress, tousled his mop of hair. The slouch in his body accentuated his naturally slim form. One good gust, and he’d topple.

I stood next to the first post of the dock. The early afternoon light glittered on the ocean. Across the gulf, Danica waited. That was the goal, the prize. The perfect opportunity for strengthening my personal ambitions. And yet, I wasn’t rushing toward her.

“Markos?” Iosif demanded.

“What time does your brother dock?” I asked.

Knowing I knew the damn answer, Iosif growled, “Iakovos said he’d be in with the evening tide.”

The captain was coming back early for the nocturnal summons. Like the others, he was no doubt pissed at being pulled from his work to deal with me. My actions warranted a swift retribution. When our negotiations were met with a stern refusal, the others decided we should bide our time to make a move and expand our shipping ventures to the East Coast. But not me. I was a man of action. Forcing the Russians to the table seemed logical—taking their princess as my bride was personal. How else would a monster like me take a wife? No woman would willingly accept my hand in marriage. Stealing the Bratva princess killed two birds with one stone.

Until the thugs I hired screwed up their contract.

If it had been one of the others to fuck up, I would be plotting their demise as the others no doubt were mine.

But if I get the bratva princess first....

I could still claim the double victory.

There was just enough time for a snatch and grab. One more powerplay before the full weight of the Twelve descended on me. I rose on the balls of my feet. “We need to unload and have the trucks take the cargo to Tampa before dawn.”

Business had to continue despite the problem in leadership that I created. They could call me out on the mess with the kidnapping, but never would any of the others question my work. I was a sworn member of our organization—our family came first. My record for smuggling illicit goods was impeccable and without reproach.

“Markos, we know all of that. Pavlos, Filippos, and Giannis are already on it with two crews. This is your chance, my friend,” Iosif insisted. Standing there with a superhero tee shirt, he looked like he belonged behind a computer screen, not on an adventure on the high seas.

My adorable baby cousin. He was the youngest of the Twelve, but he was completely loyal to me since I was the one who trained him and put his name forward to fill the twelfth seat when the opening became available. He would follow me to the ends of the earth if I asked—which was why the shadow of my mess couldn’t fall on him.

“I don’t know if there’s enough time,” I hedged.