Page 9

The conference room is set in a pristine high-rise overlooking downtown Chicago. It’s far too polished for the blood-soaked history that brought us here.

Lorenzo Vinci, a man I never expected to see on my turf, sits across from me. His tailored suit screams wealth, but there’s something off about his composure. He’s too eager, too tense. This meeting isn’t just about business; it’s about desperation.

Roman stands near the door, arms crossed and eyes scanning for any sign of betrayal. His silent presence is a comfort. I turn my attention back to Lorenzo, who flashes me a tight smile.

“I appreciate you taking the time to meet, Mr. Sharov,” he begins, his voice steady, but his hands fidget slightly with his watch. “We both know that despite past… incidents, there’s potential here.”

“Potential,” I echo, leaning back in my chair. My tone is clipped, and I let the weight of my disinterest settle over him. “You’re going to have to be more specific than that.”

He nods, shifting slightly in his seat. “Four years ago, Chiara began laying the groundwork for a partnership between our families. It was ambitious. Joint ventures in luxury development, both here and in Europe. We’d both profit immensely. Unfortunately, circumstances derailed those plans.”

Circumstances. The word almost makes me laugh. As if Chiara poisoning me and vanishing into thin air were merely a scheduling hiccup.

“Your point?” I ask, my tone sharp enough to make Roman glance over.

“I’m here to propose a continuation of that partnership,” Lorenzo says. “We both stand to gain significantly.”

I study him for a moment, the gears in my mind turning. This is about more than business. It always is. “What makes you think I’d agree?”

Lorenzo smirks faintly, but there’s no confidence behind it. “Because I know where Chiara is.”

My body stills, and for the first time since entering this meeting, he has my undivided attention. He leans forward, emboldened by my silence.

“She’s been lying low, hiding like a coward,” he continues. “She’s still a threat to me, though. Too many people in our circle are loyal to her, hoping she’ll return and… reclaim what’s hers.”

“So you want me to deal with her,” I say flatly. “Clean up your family mess.”

“It benefits us both,” Lorenzo replies. “I get rid of a rival, and you get what you’ve been hunting for years.”

I arch a brow, feigning disinterest even as my blood simmers beneath the surface. “Why would I trust you?”

Lorenzo leans back, exuding a calculated calm. “Because I don’t care about her. Chiara was an illegitimate child. My father tolerated her, but she was never truly part of the family. She’s a loose end, one I want tied off permanently.”

There it is—the resentment, the insecurity that oozes from every word he speaks. It’s not just business to him; it’s personal. He wants Chiara gone not just because she’s a threat, but because she’s everything he isn’t: capable, beloved, and fearless.

“I’ll need proof,” I say, keeping my voice steady. “I don’t deal in vague promises.”

“I expected nothing less,” Lorenzo replies. “You’ll have her location by the end of the week. I want assurances that when this is done, our partnership moves forward.”

I glance at Roman, who gives a barely perceptible nod. Turning back to Lorenzo, I allow a slow, calculated grin to form. “If you deliver, we’ll talk.”

The tension in the room shifts as Lorenzo rises, extending a hand. “Then we have a deal.”

I don’t shake it. Instead, I stand, my towering frame forcing him to look up. “We’ll see if you’re as good as your word, Vinci. Don’t waste my time.”

His hand drops awkwardly, and he nods before excusing himself. As soon as the door closes, Roman steps forward.

“What do you think?” he asks.

“I think he’s scared,” I say, moving toward the window. The city stretches out below, a reminder of the power I wield here. “He knows Chiara’s a better leader than he’ll ever be. He doesn’t want a partnership; he wants an execution.”

Roman grunts in agreement. “So you’re going to give him one?”

A dark chuckle escapes me. “Oh, I’ll deal with her, but not in the way he thinks.” My gaze hardens as I stare out at the skyline. “Chiara will pay for what she did. On my terms.”

***

The restaurant is a masterpiece of luxury, its quiet elegance a perfect mask for the Bratva’s darker dealings. The golden glow from the chandeliers reflects off polished marble floors, and the murmurs of wealthy patrons fill the air. Every table is a stage for a different play—some genuine, some far from it. At my table, the act is particularly precarious.

Lorenzo Vinci sits across from me, stiff and trying too hard to appear unbothered. His fingers tap against his wine glass, the faint tremor betraying his nerves. He’s a man out of his depth, attempting to negotiate with a shark in open water.

I take a slow sip of whiskey, letting the silence stretch just long enough to make him squirm. Finally, I lean back and set the glass down with deliberate care. “You said you had her whereabouts,” I say, my voice low and controlled. “I’m listening.”

Lorenzo clears his throat, his gaze darting to the side before meeting mine. “She’s in Montana. A small, rural town, far from any major cities. Quiet. Secluded.”

I narrow my eyes, searching his face for any sign of deceit. “Did she tell you that herself?”

He shakes his head quickly. “No. We tracked Dante. He’s been making trips to a little town there. It wasn’t hard to connect the dots. Chiara doesn’t trust many people, but Dante… he’s always been her shadow. Wherever she goes, he follows.”

The mention of Dante sparks fresh irritation. That loyal dog of hers has been a thorn in my side for years, always one step ahead, always protecting her from the consequences of her actions. My jaw tightens as I consider the implications.

“Dante,” I repeat, my tone sharp enough to make Lorenzo flinch. “He’s been shielding her all this time. You call that irrelevant?”

Lorenzo raises a hand in a placating gesture. “I’m not saying he’s irrelevant. Just that the focus should be on Chiara. Dante is a symptom. She’s the disease.”

The corner of my mouth twitches in a humorless smirk. “That’s where you’re wrong, Vinci. Dante’s not a symptom; he’s a problem. I solve problems.”

Lorenzo swallows hard, shifting in his seat. He’s afraid of me, and he should be. He presses on, desperate to secure his deal. “The important thing is, she’s been found. I’ve done my part. Now it’s your turn to hold up your end of the bargain.”

I chuckle, leaning forward and fixing him with an unblinking stare. “You’ll get what you want, Lorenzo. The partnership will move forward. Consider it a token of my appreciation for finally delivering something useful.”

He nods, though his unease is palpable. “Good. I expect results.”

I take another sip of whiskey, the glass cool against my fingertips. “You’ll get them,” I say smoothly, watching as he stands and straightens his jacket. He hesitates for a moment, then walks away, disappearing into the crowd of diners.

As soon as he’s gone, I pull out my phone and dial Roman. He picks up on the second ring. “What’s the word?” he asks, his tone as steady as ever.

“Ready the jet,” I reply, my voice cold and clipped. “We’re taking a trip to Montana.”

There’s a pause, and then Roman speaks again, his tone carrying a hint of curiosity. “You’ve got her location?”

“I do,” I say, my fingers tightening around the phone. “I’m done waiting.”

Roman doesn’t ask any more questions. He knows better. “I’ll have everything ready within the hour.”

“Good,” I say, ending the call and slipping the phone back into my pocket.

I rise from the table, my movements deliberate and controlled. As I make my way through the restaurant, I pass diners engaged in their own conversations, blissfully unaware of the storm brewing in my mind. The opulence around me feels hollow, a facade that barely masks the darkness beneath.

Chiara thought she could run. Thought she could hide in some forgotten corner of the world. Thought she could poison me and disappear without a trace.

I step out into the crisp night air, the city lights casting a faint glow against the dark sky. My lips curl into a predatory smile. She underestimated me. They all do.

Roman is waiting by the car when I arrive, his expression as calm and composed as always. He opens the door for me without a word, and I slide into the backseat, the leather cool against my skin.

“She’s in Montana?” Roman asks as he gets into the driver’s seat and starts the car.

“Some rural town. Dante’s been going back and forth, and that’s all the confirmation I need.”

Roman glances at me in the rearview mirror. “You sure you’re ready for this? It’s been four years. She might not even be the same person anymore.”

I let out a low chuckle, the sound devoid of humor. “Oh, I’m counting on that. People don’t change, Roman. Not really. They just become better at hiding their true selves. Chiara? She’s still my little prey, whether she wants to admit it or not.”

Roman doesn’t respond, his focus shifting back to the road. The silence between us is heavy, but it’s not uncomfortable. He knows me well enough to understand when I’m not in the mood for small talk.

As we drive through the city, my thoughts drift to Montana. To Chiara. To the reckoning that awaits her. She thought she could outsmart me, that she could escape the consequences of her actions.

The hunt is over.