Page 88 of Ruthless God

“Ready?” I asked.

He nodded. “Let’s hope we’ll make it out of this fully intact.”

I patted his chest as I walked past him. “You worry too much, little brother.”

We were silent as we made our way out of the hotel, moving to the rental car parked in the lot. My men were already set in place. They didn’t fly here with us but instead came out in small groups at different times. New York was heavily populated, but if we traveled in large groups, I was sure that would alert the Bratva we were here before we wanted them to know.

The drive to the hotel was short and quick. Already, security was tight around the property.

I spotted some of Lombardi’s men and several Russians. Getting past them wasn’t impossible, but it wouldn’t be easy.

Elio handed me a black fedora, putting a hat on himself. “Ready, Dino?”

He tapped me on the shoulder. “Put yours on and tell me if you look any better?”

I laughed as I did just that, getting out of the car. I caught my reflection in the car window. “I’d say I do.”

He flipped me the bird before reaching into the back seat for our briefcase. It held nothing, but it completed the outfit.

We made our way to the hotel, avoiding as many guards as possible, but I was sure the doorman was a part of the Bratva. I pulled out my phone and held it to my ear, taking the lead. Elio followed behind as I spoke in loud, angry tones, avoiding looking up at the doorman.

I could sense his hesitation as he considered whether to stop me and risk making a scene or let us pass.

He let us pass.

Stupid fucker.

I never thought the Russians were smart. This just proved it.

We hurried to the back of the hotel, where we found a small closet to hide in. Elio turned on the flashlight on his phone.

“What time is the wedding?” I asked.

“One o’clock on the dot.”

I looked down at my watch. Ten minutes to go.

I tried to keep my mind focused on the task at hand and not back in Las Vegas, wondering what Luna was up to now. Matteo said he would keep her entertained, but my brother tended to find trouble without even trying.

“I’m texting the men to make sure they’re in place,” Elio commented.

I nodded, keeping my eyes on my watch as the minutes ticked by. The tension in the small closet was palpable. This was a risky move, crashing the Bratva heir’s wedding, but it was necessary. We needed to send a message.

At 12:55, I heard footsteps and voices passing by our hiding spot. The wedding guests were making their way to the ballroom.

“It’s time,” I whispered to Elio.

We slipped out of the closet, blending in with the crowd of well-dressed guests. As we entered the ballroom, I scanned the room, taking in the opulent decorations and the faces of the attendees. Someone had set up the place to mimic a church, with several rows of long benches to look like pews, facing a makeshift altar and a man of God standing there, a Bible in his hand.

I spotted Boris Novikov near the altar with the priest. He looked arrogant and every bit the way I thought the heir of the Novikov Bratva would look.

Elio and I found a seat in the back pew, keeping our faces down.

The wedding march began to play, and all eyes turned to the back of the ballroom as the bride entered with her father. The sight of him made my blood boil, but I forced myself to remain calm, keeping my gaze forward, not wanting to draw attention. Beside me, Elio tensed slightly.

“Relax,” I murmured under my breath. “We’re just here to observe for now.”

The ceremony proceeded, with the bride and groom exchanging vows. I tuned out most of it, but enough to catch the gist—promises of loyalty, protection, and unity between their families. How ironic, given what we knew of their true intentions.