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I exhale heavily and step out of the room, closing the door softly behind me, trying to regain some semblance of control. I make my way to the office where Sasha spends most of his time, handling the paperwork. As Sienna had pointed out when we first met, each of us had a specific role in the organization.

Grigori was the leader, the one who commanded respect and directed our men. Sasha handled the administrative and legal aspects, as well as recruiting new members. Roman was the face of our operations on the ground. I was in charge of strategy, deciding when, where, and how our trades, meetings, and exchanges took place. And as Sienna had also pointed out, Elif was the unseen force, guiding and advising us, her vast network of contacts saving us more times than we could count.

I stop in front of the large bay windows and pull out my phone, dialing an unregistered number.

“Ivanov,” the man answers on the first ring, his voice flat and expressionless, tinged with an Italian accent.

“What is he doing ?” I ask, Selina’s sobs still echoing in my head.

“He’s completely lost it,” Abbiati replies, and I hear the flick of his lighter—probably lighting his thirtieth cigarette of the day. “He tried to get on the first flight to Russia, but his father stopped him. He’s on his way to the United States now, likely to meet with your brother.”

My grip tightens on the phone.

“He’s obsessed with that woman, Ivanov. His son barely crosses his mind. All he wants is her.”

“I want him dead, Abbiati,” I say through gritted teeth.

A dry chuckle reaches my ears, laced with obvious disdain.

“Trust me, you’re neither the first nor the last to wish for that. Unfortunately, that’s not an option. He’s the sole heir to that pig, Rasili. Killing him would ignite a war that would make the last one look like a children’s cartoon. And tell me, who do you think the Italians will turn to as the next heir after his death?”

Rafael.

My entire body tenses at the realization.

“No one will touch Rafael or Selina. I’ll snap their fucking necks with my bare hands before that happens.”

A long silence stretches between us, only broken by the faint crackling of his cigarette as he inhales. Then, in that same dull, infuriating voice, he says, “I see.”

“What ?” I growl, turning away from the window and dropping into the leather chair behind the desk, propping my feet up—taking advantage of my sister-in-law’s absence, knowing she won’t appear out of nowhere like she usually does.

“Are you going to make her yours ?” he suddenly asks.

I freeze, caught off guard.

Make her mine ? Keep her by my side ?

Me—a monster, someone who kills and destroys ?

After everything she’s been through to escape exactly that kind of man?

“I’m not the kind of man she needs,” I say, my grip tightening around the phone, my gaze unfocused.

“And what if you’re exactly the man she does need ?” he counters, making my brows furrow.

“What do you mean ?”

A grunt and the sound of shifting leather reach my ears, as if he’s standing up from a couch.

“I’m saying that an ordinary man wouldn’t be able to fight the monster chasing her, Nikolaï,” he states before hanging up, leaving me alone with my thoughts.

I sigh and close my eyes, tilting my head back.

A monster to fight a monster, then ?

My phone vibrates in my hand, and a smirk tugs at my lips.

Her and her damn sixth sense.