Page 29

“I want her found and brought back immediately.” Ilya’s words played on repeat.

Every meeting, every command, involved her whereabouts.

Bratva’s operations were temporarily shut down, production postponed.

Members were called in from various locations to NYC.

Our warehouses were overcrowded with more people than products.

Members slept on top of gun crates. Maps and screens occupied each corner. All in efforts to find her.

Ilya, or Malek, spared no manpower. We were all working around the clock, scouting the Earth for a single person.

While she was stubborn and beyond capable of taking care of herself, there was very little Taya could achieve in such a short time without help.

We all knew that. It wasn’t a secret she turned to her closest allies.

Lorenzo was likely the only trusted person she had left.

It fucked with my mind more than I admitted, but I understood the reasons.

My fingers itched to dial the motherfucker and give him a piece of my mind.

The fact she trusted him spared him my visit.

Beyond my promise to serve the brotherhood, I had family to think of.

Taya was damn right about that. We were deep in this in far too many ways. Alisa’s marriage contract was just one thread tying us to this clusterfuck.

A week after we had lost contact, a fist pounded on the door of the house. Water still dripped down my bare torso, landing on the wooden stairs. I haven’t slept. Barely ate. Now even my shower time got interrupted.

The warm air hit me from the outside when I opened the door.

It sneaked past me, into the air-conditioned space.

I scrutinized the Bratva’s messenger standing on the doormat.

His muddy boots stained Alisa’s welcome mat with its quote: “Enter at your own risk.” I vividly remembered the day she had it custom-made, since I drove her to the market.

The mat didn’t match the house, but its occupants.

Ever so slowly, I raised my eyes back to the man holding out a piece of paper.

“There’s a doorbell for a fucking reason,” I fumed, ignoring the message.

It seemed he had trouble locating the button. Even now, the man remained unmoved.

“Use it!” I ordered.

The messenger’s smile slipped.

My hand shot up, grabbing him by the neck as I hauled his head toward the doorbell. Bang after bang, I rang it with his skull, smashing it against the bricks the bell occupied. The melodic sound echoed through the empty house as I hummed to the rhythm.

On the sixth ring, matching his previous pounds, I let go. His body crumpled, landing on the mat. The sight brought me the biggest joy of the week .

I bent over, picking up the paper. The corners were stained red when I stuffed it into his mouth.

Up the stairs, I followed the water droplets leading me back to the shower.

Ilya demanded my immediate presence.

A simple phone call would have sufficed. A text? Even better. But no. Ilya reverted to the old ways, back to dictatorship. They put on a show of force.

The silent transfer of power had forced Ilya to relinquish some control to Malek. Given he hadn’t delivered on his promises, with Taya now in the wind, there was no other option. The precise details of their control remained undisclosed.

Malek’s previous efforts ensured that none of the members protested or even dared to question. We all returned to reality as if she had never existed. She was this myth we were chasing. Our success was based on a whisper of rare sightings.

There was no wedding day in sight, either. Alisa hung her wedding dress atop the closet door in the guest bedroom, and it remained there, catching dust.

The rest of the organizations watched each move closely. Sniffing out signs of weakness like rabid dogs. It was a matter of time before everything got out of control. We had to be ready.

For that to happen, I needed to call a family meeting. Before I could do that, I had to deal with the Pakhan.

The club served one purpose during the day, and that’s what I was here for.

Staff cleaned the remainder of last night’s party when the door cast light into the dark space.

I entered the damp basement through the disguised entrance.

Giant metal door hid the memories of Bratva’s methods.

It swallowed the screams, sealing them shut within the space.

Out of the six rooms, only one or two were typically in use.

Since she escaped, this floor had experienced more foot traffic than the dance floor above us.

I tried to be here for every interrogation.

My presence hadn’t raised any red flags, since I often was.

Little did they know these days, it was for an entirely different reason. Before, I was the Bratva’s enforcer.

Now? I was their protector first. Alisa’s. Luka’s. Andrei’s. Mila’s. Taya’s. Even the Italian might count. I analyzed all the extracted information closely.

Whenever I could, I diverted their attention elsewhere. Maybe I was hoping to conduct my own investigation, find peace of mind in the process.

Beyond my selfish interests, I still belonged to this organization, and its future placed above the two men’s egos.

Ilya awaited in his chair, swirling a shot over ice against the ambient light.

“You are late,” he complained.

I bit my tongue, unaware there was something to be late for. The guard on duty held the massive door open for both of us. Ilya paused at the threshold, handing over the empty glass. As if the guard was his waiter, not a made man.

I silently encouraged the guard to act up. To throw the glass against the wall. Smash it against Ilya’s face for the way he was treated. Despite my efforts, the guard lowered his head, letting us pass .

The electro room, as we called the first cell, harbored a man already filled with static.

Not just any man, another made man. An Underboss.

Lorenzo Artuso sat in the chair, clutching the metal arms.

His eyes immediately flicked to us. Shock overtook his face at seeing my proximity to the man who had him captured.

With the slightest shake of my head, he turned away. We both needed to play our roles right. I pretended we didn’t know each other, while he ignored my presence.

There was no freaking way he allowed himself to get captured. Thankfully, Ilya was too wrapped up in his fury to recognize the probability of the situation.

He could have been in the safety of Don’s fortress in Sicily, smoking cigars while it all played out. The alliance didn’t need to get involved in internal affairs. This was Bratva’s mess.

Instead, he was here. Tied to a chair with electric cables burning off his fingertips. In his suit and tie, flashing us the annoying smile.

His eyes dared anyone brave enough to come close.

I’ve experienced his stares many times before, but now they burned a darker color.

Outside of his position, I knew nothing about the man.

His past or his abilities were as much a mystery as mine were to him.

But over the short while, I’ve learned all I needed to be sure about.

Lorenzo and Taya found what my siblings and I didn’t have to look for. A strong bond. Life came with relations for us. It only expanded as our family grew, but they fought and earned their friendship.

Somehow I knew there was nothing the man would do to jeopardize what they had. After all, he was here, in her place, offering himself on a silver platter.

“Artuso.”

“Aistov.”

Ilya leaned over the chair, keeping his distance as if Lorenzo wasn’t worth dirtying his shoes.

“If you missed me so much, all you had to do was call.” The Italian sent a virtual kiss on the air, and I held my breath, keeping in the laughs. I leaned against the doorframe, observing the exchange.

“You were always her expansion,” Ilya sharpened his words.

Lorenzo tsked. “Desperation doesn’t suit you.”

The Pakhan reached for the remote, dialing it up two digits. A buzzing sound came out of the machine, traveling through the lines straight to Lorenzo’s nerve endings .

“Let’s skip the part where we pretend we don’t know you’re the first person she ran to,” Ilya disclosed.

The Italian ignored every word. He trashed in the chair, veins popping on his neck.

“Does it make you angry?” he hissed each word through the pain. “Knowing you don’t control her like you thought?”

Those words sliced Ilya deep, even if the knife was still dull.

“Can you feel the control over her slipping through your fingers?”

“She was nothing when I found her,” Ilya barked, panting.

“Or it was you who would be nothing without her.” God knows how many watts were running through his body as Lorenzo spoke the very truth. “You finally found someone to carry out the dirty work you see beneath you. Would you make it this far without her help?”

Ilya remained quiet, though I highly doubt he considered the words.

“I didn’t think so,” Lorenzo shook his head. “She blindly eliminated all the threats. Except Malek.” A manic laugh came out of the bound man. “Malek rooted himself deeply. Tell me, in your grand scheme, have you ever considered the two of them could overthrow you together?”

Ilya visibly paled. Of course he didn’t. Malek was his childhood friend. Even Taya, despite his cold interior, was someone he heavily relied on.

“After all, Malek is obsessed with two things. Her and climbing the ranks. What do you think would happen if he married her?”

Ilya’s answer landed on Lorenzo’s face, and the Italian chuckled.

“I’m sure the Don will receive this well,” he spat.

Ilya straightened his back. “I’m not worried about that. For all we know, he doesn’t even exist.”

Lorenzo grinned, a knowing look in his eyes.

“Where is she?” Ilya pressed, his voice growing colder. “You’re willing to lose your life for someone who isn’t even here?”

“I’m choosing the right side,” Enzo finally replied, his calm unwavering .

“The right side? There are no sides. There is us and no one left out of you.”