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VADKA

I take the back roads to the warehouse, every twist and turn burned into my memory from nights like this. Nights when you don’t call ahead. Nights when you don’t wear your usual clothes or take your usual car.

I’m in the unmarked ride we keep parked three blocks from the south side alleyway, the one we use when shit’s gone bad—no plates, no records, no connections. A burner phone presses against my hip, cold and small. Untraceable. Disposable. Just like we were trained to be.

My heart's pounding like it’s trying to punch its way out of my chest. I’m trying—really trying—to get my mind ready for the worst. Blood. Carnage. Smoke so thick you taste it. My brothers, dead. It’s always an ever-present concern, but now…

Sirens tear through the silence, a flash of lights heading for the wharf.

For our warehouse, the one near Anya’s bakery.

That location wasn’t just luck—it was strategy.

Smart and dangerous. Plenty of rivals wanted that spot, but Semyon made damn sure none of them ever touched it.

And that decision, that little power move?

That was the beginning of our slow, inevitable war with the Irish.

I take a mental inventory of the weapons on me. I’ve got enough firepower to drop twenty men before I even take a breath. And somehow, it still doesn’t feel like enough. When the hell is it ever enough?

The road blurs beneath me, tires screaming against asphalt, and my mind flashes—just for a second—to Ruthie. Her cheeks flushed, her hands cupping my face like I was worth something. Her voice shaking when she said she loved me.

A baby. New life. Family.

Focus , I snarl to myself. Don’t lose your edge now.

I smell the fire before I see it—sweet, smoky, with that slightly acrid bite that tells you this wasn’t an accident. It reminds me of the bonfires we built as kids.

I park the car just beneath the old willow tree—out of sight.

This spot was picked for discretion, and tonight, it earns its keep.

From here, I can’t see much—just enough smoke to know something’s wrong.

But I need to get closer. I need to see who’s here, who’s been here, and who the fuck might’ve done this.

If they touched my brothers… if they’re dead…

But what I see when I round the corner isn’t the inferno I imagined. The warehouse is still standing. It’s… mostly intact. There’s smoke, yeah, and a fire truck already ah ead, but no billowing destruction, no collapsed beams or shattered windows. It doesn’t make sense.

“What the fuck?” I mutter.

“Vadka?”

I whip around, hand twitching toward my weapon, but it’s Rodion. He’s stalking up behind me, face tight.

He looks as confused as I am. “What the fuck, brother? You all right? Were you inside?”

I shake my head once. “No. I got a call from Zoya. Said she couldn’t reach you or the others. Said everyone was here.”

Rodion goes still. His eyes narrow, dark and dangerous. “She said that?” His voice is low now, sharp-edged steel.

“Yeah,” I grit out. “She said exactly that.”

He swears under his breath. “She told me the same. Zoya? What the fuck? No… she wouldn’t…”

She’s always been honest. Loyal. Why the fuck would she lie?

“You know what we have to do,” he says, his jaw clenched. His whole body’s vibrating with fury he’s barely containing. “Scout the premises. Find the others.”

I nod. “I’ve got a burner on me. Didn’t even bring my regular car.”

“Same.”

“You take south. I’ll go north.”

“On it. ”

When I turn the corner, I see Rafail talking to one of the firefighters, posture casual—but his eyes give him away. When he spots me, his expression shifts. Relief—tempered with suspicion.

I feel the same.

“You all right?” he asks, low enough that only I can hear.

“Yeah. I wasn’t even here when it started. Were you?”

He shakes his head. “Nope.” But his eyes flick toward the fire crew, and I know we’re thinking the same thing—we say nothing to them. We don’t reveal shit. They’re not here for us.

“I found Rodion,” I tell him. “He’s safe. He’s checking the south side, looking for Semyon and Matvei.”

Rafail gives a tight nod, a muscle ticking in his jaw. He’s calculating—running the same numbers I am. This was a setup. Why?

We start moving, slow and steady, tracking the perimeter as firefighters disappear inside with hoses and gear. Rafail steps closer and lowers his voice again.

“Scared the fuck out of me,” he says, voice raw. “But you’re all right.”

“Yeah.”

“And Ruthie? Luka?”

“They’re fine,” I whisper. “Safe.”

His brow furrows. He doesn’t like any of this. “I just saw Rodion. He got the same call. We all did. ”

While the flames die down under the weight of heavy hoses, Rafail pulls out his phone and clicks into the security feed. His face hardens.

“Surveillance is offline,” he mutters. “Someone shut it off.”

Inside job. That’s not even a question.

We find Rodion, then Matvei and Semyon, all accounted for. And it doesn’t take long to piece it together—we were all called. Every single one of us.

She summoned us.

“Why?” I growl.

“Pull up house surveillance,” Rafail snaps, and Rodion yanks out the tablet and boots it up. We watch it together.

“Everything’s fine,” he mutters. “No breach, no alarms.”

“Where the fuck is Zoya?” Rafail snarls.

“She’s at the house,” Semyon says.

Matvei shakes his head slowly, brows furrowing as he scans the room. “Something’s not adding up.”

“Nothing’s fucking adding up,” Rafail growls, his voice low and lethal. “Right. I’m gonna try Zoya’s phone again?—”

But it rings. And rings. And rings.

“Why would she bring us all here? What’s the game?”

“I went to check on the house,” Semyon says.

“Video shows Ruthie walking into Luka’s room.

We don’t have cameras in private bedrooms—privacy policy—but at every entrance, every exit, we do.

And there’s nothing. No mess. No signs of struggle.

The guards are all where they’re supposed to be. Everything is… still. Too still.”

Rafail’s brows draw together. “Vadka, where were you when she called?”

“I was at the house,” I answer. “With Luka. With Ruthie. You?”

“I was heading to Wolf and Moon,” Rafail says, voice clipped. “Supposed to meet Semyon there for a drink.”

“Yeah,” Semyon echoes. “I was on my way too. Then she called. Told me to come. I didn’t know why everyone was here. Rafail was supposed to be meeting me.”

Rafail nods slowly. “That’s right.”

“What the fuck? Are we being set up?”

“I was at home with Ember,” Rodion says. “We just finished a FaceTime with Yana.”

Yana. Their younger sister, currently in South Africa.

“Matvei?”

“I was out driving,” he replies. “Testing the range on a new tracking mod we installed today. Anissa’s asleep back at the house.”

“If Zoya is really at the house, let’s go find her. Let’s see what the hell she’s playing at.”

That fleeting rush of relief I felt—seeing all of my brothers safe and accounted for—vanishes in an instant. Dissolves into nothing. Because something is off. Deeply off. And Zoya, sweet, loyal Zoya… she is n’t clean.

We’ve been betrayed before. Mateo’s parents. His brother. Later, we learned his parents were behind all of it.

I would’ve sworn on my last breath—Zoya would die before she betrayed us. Before she betrayed her brothers.

It can’t be betrayal.

No.

It’s strategy.

“She dragged us all here,” I mutter. “Why would she do that?”

“Fuck,” Rodion breathes out, eyes wide and wet. “To keep us safe. That’s why. Something’s about to happen. Something big. She knew. She was scared?—”

Then Rafail’s phone starts ringing. Over and over again.

“It says you’re calling me,” he mutters, confused.

“Fuck. That’s gotta be Ruthie. I left my real phone at the house—I didn’t want to be tracked. Got a burner on me.”

He holds it up, grim. “Rafail.”

It’s Ruthie.

She’s sobbing.

Her voice is cracked, broken glass. “At the bar, Rafail.” She gasps. “Tell me you have him. Tell me he’s with you.”

Rafail locks eyes with me, his face stone. “Who, Ruthie?” he asks, voice like a blade.

“Vadka.” Her voice cracks. “Tell me you have him. ”

“I’m here, baby,” I say, my voice loud and raw. “I’m right here.” I don’t care who hears me. “I’m here. Are you okay?”

“I’m okay,” she breathes out. “But… oh, Vadka. Where is everybody?”

“We’re all here, Ruthie,” I say. “Every one of us. We’re safe. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” she whispers. “I’m okay. What happened?”

“Listen, baby, we don’t know what happened yet,” I say out loud so she can hear me.

We’re going back to the house.

We’re questioning Zoya.

“I’ll question Zoya,” Rafail says, his voice cold steel. He’s always had a soft spot for her—she’s like a little sister to all of us—but now…

He waits.

“No answer?”

“Back to the house,” Rafail barks. “Bring your women. Now.”

He turns to Matvei. His expression is grave. “Check in, see what you can find on surveillance. I’ll do the same. We meet back here. Clear?”

Matvei nods. “Yes, sir.”

And I echo him silently. Because Rafail has spoken.

And when he speaks—it’s law.