Page 76 of Malicious Claim (Dark Inheritance #1)

Attack on Cretes

The phone rang just as I was adjusting my cufflink in preparation for the day. Dragon's name flashed on the screen, and my stomach tightened instantly. I answered on the second ring, my voice already cold, betraying nothing.

"What is it?" I asked, but even as I spoke, my pulse quickened. Lately Dragon's reports were always fraught with bad news. I hoped this time it was different.

"There's been an attack."

My body snapped to attention, every muscle going taut. "An attack, where?"

Leila's gaze whipped to me from the vanity table. Her expression was full of confusion, a soft frown forming as she heard the words attack and where.

"Our home, Makros," Dragon said, the words coming out sharp and clipped. "Retaliation for Aleksei killing one of their members."

I froze. The phone felt like it had doubled in weight. My mind went blank for a split second, then a flood of fury and fear hit me, clashing in an emotional wave for dominance. Fuck everything else. Fuck the shoe company, fuck Greece. I should have been there. I should have been in Italy yesterday.

Leila took a cautious step toward me, but before she could speak, I raised my hand. A simple gesture, but one that made her stop in her tracks. I wasn't ready to offer her any explanation yet.

I quickly dialed Enzo, the command spilling out of my mouth in a rush the moment he answered. "Get the jet ready. Now."

As the line clicked dead, I glanced at Leila. She was already standing closer, her brow furrowed. "The jet?" she asked, voice quivering with uncertainty. "Are we under attack? What's going on, Makros?"

Her words sounded distant. Not because they were, but because all I could hear was the roar of my own thoughts. The attack... the Bratva. Aleksei. They came after us because of that fucking idiot. I let him live. I gave him a chance to slip through my fingers, and now look where we were.

How many dead? How much damage? How bad was it?

I hadn't asked how fatal the attack had been.

Why? Because I knew that if I thought about it for even a second, I might lose my mind.

If I let myself think too deeply about the attack, if I even imagined the blood of my family being spilled, I might break.

I couldn't afford to break. Not now, not ever and especially not in front of her.

"Makros?" Leila's voiced out again, more insistent now. I looked at her, but I wasn't really seeing her. Not right now. My mind was already on the plane, already halfway to Italy. To the wreckage I was going to have to clean up.

"Stay here," I snapped, my tone sharper than I intended. But it didn't matter. It couldn't matter. "I don't have time to explain."

I could feel the weight of her gaze on me, the worry, the concern, but it was nothing compared to the heavy, crushing responsibility that sat squarely on my chest. A responsibility I couldn't ignore, a consequence I had brought down on all of us.

The Orel Bratva didn't know how to stop.

It's why I never wanted to negotiate after the attack on the factory.

This was just another excuse for them to keep coming.

They never stopped coming after me. They were coming for everything, and if I didn't act fast, I'd lose it all, my family, my power, my empire.

An hour later, we were in the air. Myself, Leila and Alonso.

I shifted in my seat, leaned forward, elbows on my knees, and pressed my hands together like I was praying.

But I wasn't. I was planning. Counting the ways I was going to make those bastards pay.

I didn't know the body count yet, but I would.

And once I did, even if it was just one person that died, I'd slaughter the entire families of the Orel Bratva.

Leila sat across from me. I could feel her eyes on me. She finally broke the silence with a soft and unsure voice. "I'm sorry."

I pretended not to hear, but of course I did.

Sorry? What was she sorry for? She wasn't the one who had shown Aleksei mercy. I should've killed him the second I had the chance. Mercy was a weakness, and I had shown it. I—Makros—had shown weakness.

How could I have been so sloppy to believe the truth wouldn't come out eventually? It always did. I should've been planning for this, instead I let myself get carried away, distracted by frivolous things.

"Fuck!"

Leila flinched. I bet she wished we were on separate flights. Heck, I didn't even want her around me right now.

Suddenly, I felt her palm rest on my knees. I should've exploded with anger, struck her in the face for daring to touch me, but her touch was not one bit offensive. In fact it made me calm down. I don't know, but that scared the shit out of me.

"Makros," Leila said, her voice cold like ice. "We will get the Russian bastards together."

No, dummy. You should be excited that my world is falling apart. You should use this moment to take your revenge on me. Laugh. Spit in my face. Tell me I deserve it.

But she didn't, and that...that right there was more terrifying than anything the Bratva could ever do to me.

I didn't speak a word to her because I was speechless. She moved to sit beside me.

Throughout the rest of the flight, I let her hold me. I let myself feel comfortable in her arms. Her palm stayed steady on my knee. Her head rested lightly against my shoulder. And for those few minutes, I let the storm rage inside me, instead of outside.

I needed that quiet. I needed her, and that made me hate myself a little more.

Less than an hour later, the ramp lowered smoothly onto the tarmac of the private hangar in Rome. Four black SUVs were already waiting in formation, engines running, headlights casting sharp beams into the humid Italian air. Dragon stood beside the lead vehicle, arms crossed, jaw tight.

His face darkened when he saw me. Not from anger. Dragon wouldn't blame me for anything. It was likely about the weight of the news he'd been holding back.

He didn't speak right away. Just opened the door for me, eyes flicking to Leila, then back to me.

I didn't let him carry the weight any more second than he needed to. "Talk."

His voice came out dry, rehearsed. "Your father's been hospitalized. Severe blood loss. But he will live. He's a really tough man."

He wasn't finished and I braced myself for whatever came next.

"Stefanos is dead. Shot point-blank. Twice."

Did I say I braced myself? Mehn, the shit caved hard. Stefanos had been with us since the beginning. We'd grown up together. Bled together. Fought wars side by side.

I felt Leila tense beside me.

But I didn't react. Couldn't. My voice came out flat. Hollow.

"Take me to the hospital."

Dragon's brows pinched just slightly, like he expected more. Like he wanted more. But I gave him nothing.

He nodded once and slammed the door shut after us.

We drove in silence, engines humming low like warning growls. I could feel every second stretch into hours.