Page 5

Exactly nothing.

Erin is missing.

And it’s my fucking fault.

She’s gone, stolen from the hospital, and the only one I can turn that fury on is myself. I know Ilya he’d have died for her, to keep her safe. And he just might, at that.

I pick up the vodka bottle and down a good slug of it as I pace my fucking office.

My woman’s missing, stolen, just like my son was from here as a red fucking herring. And my best friend’s undergoing emergency surgery.

A gunshot wound to the stomach.

I rub a hand over my face and take another slug. The doctors said if Ilya had been shot anywhere other than at the hospital, he wouldn’t have stood a chance.

Ilya can handle pretty much anything, I’m aware of that, but it sounds like an ambush and how the hell did he end up in the stairwell shot? Apparently, the trail of blood led from there to the hall where he collapsed, holding on long enough to demand they call me.

And—I try and drink some more, but the fucking bottle is empty. It only had a third in there when I grabbed it, but still…

I throw the thing against the wall, and it smashes.

What I should have done was have an army there, too. And here. A good army. One that could protect Sasha and also Ilya and Erin.

I could have lost all three of them.

Fuck. I turn and throw a chair, and then I punch and kick the wall.

“Did that help?”

I whirl around to where my sister stands, just inside the door. She doesn’t look frightened of my temper, and she shouldn’t be. I’d never project it toward her, ever. But she looks worried. On top of her grief, she’s worried.

Shit. I want to kick the fucking wall again.

“No,” I snarl. “It didn’t. What I should be is scouring the city for Erin. Hunting down the fuck who did all this, shot Ilya, and killed Max and… I can’t. Because all my leads have come up empty. Fucking Niko isn’t anywhere he usually is. He isn’t even at any of his fucking homes. He must have somewhere…”

I pick something up from the table and smash that, too. It was a gaudy porcelain figurine that I think belonged to my fucking father. I hated it, so I really don’t care.

Even Sergio isn’t out and about for me to torture and kill just because I can.

Which I can’t, because I need him?—

Right now, the intricacies of the interconnecting territories of allies and enemies in my world don’t interest me. I just want Erin.

“I’ll burn the fucking world down.”

“I’m glad you want to do something, and I get your anger and pain, believe me ” Alina utters a small, bitter laugh. “But Sasha’s finally asleep, so waking him won’t do you any favors. He wants his mama, and like it or not, we’re still not family to him.”

“And whose fault is that?” The guilt crushes me the moment I say it. She’s out there, somewhere, and if she’s hurt, if…

I swallow. Hard.

My hand clenches at that, and her gaze goes to it. “Demyan, he’s a little boy. He’s two. His world is his mama. Even if you’d been part of his life from day one, you’re never going to be mama. She’d still be his world. Daddy time comes in a few years when he stops being a baby. He’s a baby. A toddler’s a baby. It’s mama and it’ll always be mama.”

“I get it,” I push out. “I’m not fucking mama.”

“He did ask for you. Dane, Dino, whichever comes to him, that’s you and that’s something.” Her gaze softens. “But keep up this… tantrum and you’ll wake him and you’ll stress him.”

Tantrum? It’s not a fucking tantrum. It’s the physical manifestation of my mistakes, of the world imploding, of things happening I can’t control.