Page 36 of Dark Desires (Chicago Bratva #1)

ISABELLA

G unfire erupts around us.

I can’t believe what I’m seeing. One by one, the guards collapse. My heart pounds so hard, I’m sure it’s going to burst.Alexei calls out in Russian, his voice sharp and commanding.

Just as suddenly as it started, the gunfire ceases, leaving behind an eerie silence broken only by the groans of the wounded. When the dust settles, the only person left standing, besides Alexei, is Christian de la Rosa, scared out of his mind.

Alexei strides toward him with that lethal, unbothered energy that makes him so terrifying—and, damn it, so hot.

“Before I was part of the Ivanovs,” Alexei says as he approaches Christian, “I had a Bratva of my own. I’m glad you got the chance to meet them.”

With a swift motion, Alexei knocks the gun out of Christian’s hand and slams a fist into his stomach. Christian grunts and folds, dropping to his knees.

“That’s for shooting at the mother of my child.”

Alexei nods toward his men, who rise from their hidden positions along the walls, weapons at the ready.My head spins. He’s had this whole backup plan, this hidden army, the entire time.

A sharp voice cuts through the air.

“Plushenko! I hope for your sake you’ve left De la Rosa alive.”

I whip my head around, searching for the source of the voice. And then I find it—a woman in an FBI jacket, flanked by a half dozen agents, striding into the courtyard with the confidence of someone who knows she’s in control.

Alexei grins, unbothered. “Come get your man, Agent Patterson.”

Her eyes dart between Alexei and Christian, but I can’t focus on her for long.My joy, my relief, all of it vanishes the moment my eyes land on my father.

“Oh no! Oh my God!”

I break into a sprint. Dad’s lying there, pale, his shirt red with blood. My throat tightens as I drop to my knees beside him.

“Dad! No, no, no. Stay with me, please!”

His eyes flicker open; he’s weak but still fighting.Everything feels so surreal. I kneel next to my father, watching him die. No! This can’t be happening. It can’t be happening.

“Dad,” I whisper. “You’re going to be OK. We’ll get help. Just hang on.”

His eyelids flutter open, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at his lips. Relief surges through me. He’s alive. He’s here.But all that blood tells me what I don’t want to accept—this is it.

“Isabella…” His voice is thin, raspy. “Look at you. You’re so strong. You’re going to lead this family better than I ever could.”

I shake my head. “No. Stop. You’re not going anywhere. We’ll get you patched up, and you’ll be yelling at me to stay home by this time next week.”

His laugh is a weak wheeze. “Stubborn as always, just like your mother.”

I grip his hand tighter, like I can keep him here through sheer willpower.

“You can’t leave, Dad. I need you. We need you.”

“You don’t need me anymore, Bella.” He coughs, wincing. “You’ve got this. And you’ve got him. Never thought something like this would happen… Yet here we are… The half-mutt of the Ivanovs… He found a way to bind his blood to mine, after all…”

Dad’s gaze shifts to Alexei, who’s silent but steady at my side. “Promise me, Plushenko,” Dad rasps, his voice sharper now. “Promise me you’ll take care of my daughter and my grandchild.”

Alexei doesn’t hesitate. “I swear it on my life.”

Dad looks back at me, his eyes filled with love. “I love you, Isabella. Always.”

“I love you too, Dad.” Tears stream down my face.

Then his hand slackens in mine and the life fades from his eyes.

“No!” I cry out, shaking him gently. “Dad, please.”

But he’s gone. The weight of it crashes into me, and I collapse against him, clutching his hand. Alexei wraps an arm around me.

“We’ll honor his memory, Isabella. I swear it.”

The world around me blurs until a voice cuts through the fog.

“Isabella Mancini?”

I look up to see the woman in the FBI jacket approaching. “I’m Agent Patterson. I’m sorry for your loss.”

I nod stiffly; my throat too tight to speak.

Patterson’s gaze shifts to Alexei. “Our cooperation is over now, Mr. Plushenko. We have De la Rosa. Your services are no longer required.”

I glance over my shoulder, watching as Christian, cursing and struggling, is dragged off by federal agents. But I don’t feel the slightest bit of satisfaction. I feel empty.

Alexei smirks at the agent. “No hard feelings about the coffee, Patterson?”

“Let’s just say this—the next time we meet, it’ll likely be under less pleasant circumstances.”

Alexei stands. “Duly noted. Until then, Agent Patterson.”

With that, she walks off.

Alexei slips his phone out of his pocket.

“They’re here. Time to go, Devotchka .”

“What? Who’s they?”

“My family. There’s a plane on the other side of the island.”

As if on cue, a black car arrives in front of the villa gates.

“And that’s your ride,” he says. “Go on.”

“What? Go on? What about you?”

“I need to stick around, sort out some things with my men. I’ll be there. Don’t worry.”

I glance at my father’s still form, my heart breaking all over again. Seeing him lying there, dead… I don’t know what to say or do.

Suddenly, the world begins to spin. I feel lightheaded. It’s hard to stand.

“Isa?” Alexei asks.

With that, I fall into his arms, the world going black.

I wake up to the low hum of a jet engine and a stiff ache in my back.

Blinking against the soft light of the cabin, I glance around, groggy and disoriented. It’s not long before I realize I’m on a private plane.

I sit up, taking in the other passengers. There’s a small group of people, none of whom I recognize immediately.

“Where’s Alexei?” My voice cuts through the quiet. “He said he’d be here. And where are you taking me?”

A young, pretty woman with sharp features and an air of authority rises from her seat and approaches me. She’s striking, her long, dark hair pinned back neatly, her posture confident.

“You must be Isabella,” she says. “I’m Elena, Alexei’s sister.”

“What happened? I was with Alexei, then…”

“You got a little overwhelmed,” she says with a small smile. “The battle, your pregnancy, and your loss. You passed out for a bit.”

I blink at her, trying to process.

“Where’s my dad? I can’t just leave him there.”

Her expression turns serious. “Your father is being transported home by the FBI. Everything’s being taken care of. And, I’m sorry about your father. We all are.”

She exchanges a glance with the man next to her, a handsome, hulking figure with a stern expression.

“This is Grigori, my husband,” she says, gesturing, then nods toward another man seated a few rows away. “And that’s Luk, one of my brothers, and the head of the Bratva.” Lev, not turning around, raises his hand.

“A pleasure,” Grigori says, his voice low, deep enough to feel in my bones. “And we’re all sorry about your father. He was as good a man as you’ll find in this world of ours.”

“Thank you, but where’s Alexei? He said he’d be here.”

Elena sighs. “He’s off the radar for now. Agent Patterson may have worked with him to take down De la Rosa, but other agents will see the connection and try to tie him to the cartel. It’s not safe for him to be out in the open.”

I stare at her, my chest tightening. “What does that mean? Is he on the run?”

Luk chimes in from up ahead. “He’s fine. He just can’t be in contact right now.”

“That’s not fine,” I snap. “I want to see him.”

“That’s not possible,” Elena says firmly but kindly. “Our priority is getting you home safely. Alexei would never forgive us if we didn’t.”

I slump back in my seat, my frustration boiling. “I need to see him, to talk to him, I need to know he’s alright.”

“He’s alright,” Elana says, but does not elaborate.

I’m frustrated, but I know arguing won’t get me anywhere. I grit my teeth, staring out the window as, far below, Chicago slowly comes into view.

We land not long after. The plane taxis to a private hangar where Mario is standing by a sleek black car. As soon as I step out, his face softens.

“Isabella,” he says, “I’m sorry about your father. He was a good man and loved you more than anything.”

“Thanks, Mar,” I reply, my voice cracking. I climb into the car, keeping my eyes on the floor as we drive.

The Mancini estate looms ahead, cold and empty. As soon as I step inside, the weight of everything crushes me. My father, Alexei, the baby—too much, all at once. I collapse onto the nearest couch, burying my face in my hands as the tears pour out.

“Stephania?” I call out weakly, hoping for some shred of comfort. But the house is silent. She’s gone.

And I’m all alone.