Page 136 of Sweet Obsession

Was he walking into an ambush? Was someone pointing a gun at him right now?

Did he think of me when he walked into that banquet?

Was he still breathing?

Sofia nudged me. “Your turn.”

I looked down at the cards in my hand. Hearts. All broken, it seemed.

Then...

The door slammed open.

Oleg rushed in, boots still wet with snow, eyes wide, blood at his temple.

Sofia and I stood at once, dread tightening around my ribs like a noose.

“Where’s Misha?” I asked. My voice cracked in the middle.

Oleg looked at me. Something flickered in his eyes—relief, grief, pride. “He won.”

I staggered. “What?”

“He won the vote,” he said. “It was unanimous by the end. Misha’s the new Pakhan. All five families are now under his command. That means his influence reaches from Yakutsk to Irkutsk. Magadan, Chita, the Volograd estate, it all falls under his control now. Every arm of the Bratva...”

“What about the bad news?” I cut him off.

Oleg hesitated. His jaw clenched. “We can’t find him.”

The floor disappeared beneath me. “What do you mean, you can’t find him?”

“As soon as he was sworn in, chaos broke out. Chernov’s men attacked. But it wasn’t just them. One of the families that voted for him switched sides mid-ceremony. It was a bloodbath. Someone called the authorities. Russian intelligence showed up. Everything scattered.”

My breath wouldn’t come.

“But he’s not dead,” I said, voice hoarse. “He’s not...”

“We don’t know,” Oleg admitted. “There were over two hundred dead. No sign of Misha’s body. But no confirmation, either. Nikolai’s alive—he escaped. He’s the one who sent me here.”

I felt the tears build in my throat like stones. “So he could be out there. Wounded. Hiding. Alone.”

Oleg didn’t deny it. And that terrified me more than anything.

That night, I curled up on Misha’s side of the bed, clutching his pillow, dialing his number over and over. Straight tovoicemail. I whispered into the silence, “Please come back. Please.”

He didn’t answer.

Three days passed. On the third, my phone buzzed with a strange number, and I answered.

“Hello, kotyonok,” came the slick voice on the other end. My blood went cold.

“Chernov.”

“I thought I’d do what your precious Misha couldn’t, reach out,” he said. “He’s been very quiet lately. You wouldn’t happen to know where your man is hiding, would you?”

“Go to hell.”

“Oh, I’ve already been. Lost a hand there, thanks to him. But he’s not the only one who’s made sacrifices.”