If it were any other time, I would’ve taken them all on and taught each and every one of them a lesson. I would’ve used my system to destroy them before they were able to touch me.
However, this isn’t only about me anymore.
The meeting goes well for the most part. The reason behind it is nothing but the strengthening of the brotherhood’s allies with the Luciano family, the Yakuza, and the Triads. It’s the same washed-up talk that Mikhail, Sergei, and Igor lead. Kirill speaks up, too, because he likes to appear to be a good sport. Damien spends most of the time smoking and pushing away Abe’s advances to pour him a drink. Vladimir is watching me. He’s being discreet about it, but I was taught by my mother to know when someone is a threat, even when I don’t see them.
I remain silent, as usual, unless Sergei asks for my opinion. Tonight, he’s out to throw jabs at me. I would’ve dismissed them any other time, but my unease about this night is once again filling with paranoia. A feeling I usually squash before it creeps into me.
“Adrian has the best relations with the Italians,” Sergei states. “How did that come about again?”
He knows, but he wants me to say it. “I helped the Don once.”
“What type of help?” It’s Vladimir who asks this time.
“He saved my life,” Lazlo says proudly. “The night of an attack on my club, I was swarmed by the fucking Rozettis and nearly died, but Adrian, who happened to be there by chance, saved me.”
“By chance.” Vladimir’s eyes slide to me. “You don’t believe in coincidences, though, do you, Volkov?”
“Coincidences happen.” Kirill throws his hands dismissively. “If it weren’t for coincidence, I wouldn’t have been born.”
“I’ll drink to that. To Kirill’s coincidental fucking existence.” Damien raises his glass and everyone else follows.
The subject shifts from me to other crime-related topics that usually include drugs and shipments and customs.
Kirill gives me a look that says ‘you’re welcome’ but I ignore him.
Once the meeting ends, I’m more than ready to take Lia and go the fuck home. On my way outside, Vladimir falls in step beside me and whispers in Russian so only I can hear, “I know you had something to do with Richard’s death.”
“Proof?” I remain calm.
“I will find it, and when I do, you’ll count your fucking days, Adrian. I’ll finish your life with my own hands.”
“Good luck, Vladimir. I mean it.”
And with that, Kolya and I storm down the stairs.
“Have you checked on Yan?” I ask.
“I just told him to take Mrs. Volkov to the car. They’ll be there before us.”
I hasten my footsteps until I reach the parking lot. Kolya hesitates behind me, staring at his phone.
“What?”
His brow furrows. “The car is moving.”
“What do you mean, it’s moving?” I stare at the GPS on his phone and, sure enough, our main car has already left the mansion.
I retrieve my phone and call Yan. The ringing on the other end of the line are the longest, most excruciating I’ve ever heard.
When the call is finally answered, there’s rustling, panting, but it’s not Yan’s voice that greets me. It’s Lia’s, soft and in a small whisper-shout. “Yan! Yan, open your eyes!”
I don’t speak, because I don’t think she’s alone. I don’t want to give her away for talking to me.
“Yan!” she shrieks. “Adrian and Kolya will be here. They will help.”
“Shut up, bitch,” a voice says in the background and then she screams.
The line goes dead.
I grab it in a tight hold, my jaw clenching so hard, it’s about to snap.
“What happened?” Kolya asks in an unsure tone.
“Lia’s been kidnapped.”
25
Winter
It happened so fast.
One second, Yan was ushering me inside the car, and the next, he was shot. It was silent, swift, and I wouldn’t have noticed it if he hadn’t jerked back, slamming into me.
Blood covered his shoulder, but he still reached out to push me away.
It was too late, though.
While I was preoccupied with trying to stop the bleeding in his shoulder, unyielding hands pulled me into the car as it revved forward.
Yan held on to me with all his might. They shot him again in the same shoulder. I put my chest to his so they wouldn’t be able to kill him and used all my energy to pull him inside with me.
I can tell they don’t want me dead or they would’ve shot me, too, so I used my body as a shield against Yan. It’s clear they didn’t want him to join us, and I probably should’ve let him fall outside the car for the others to find and help him, but I couldn’t trust that they wouldn’t run him over on their way out, just to make sure he was dead.
My body is still covering his after one of the men in the front cut off my conversation with Adrian. Here’s to hoping the small bits of information I got to my fake husband will enable him and his men to find us soon. Not only because I have a horrible feeling about where they’re taking us, but also because Yan has lost a lot of blood. My white gloves have turned red from how much I’ve pressed on the two holes in his shoulder, but the blood won’t stop oozing out.
His lips are pale and he keeps trying to push me off with his good hand, but I refuse to budge. If I do, the man from the front who’s holding a damn rifle won’t hesitate to shoot him.
I haven’t paid attention to where we’re going, but the roads are secluded, silent and dark. There are two men in the front. The one who’s driving is wearing a leather jacket, hair hidden by a hat, and a black mask covers everything but his mouth and nose. He’s the silent one, the one who hasn’t talked since we got in here. The other man is nestling a rifle as if it’s his pet. He’s the one who shot Yan, the second time, at least, and cut off my phone call with Adrian.
They’re not talking, so I can’t tell what nationality they are, but Rifle Man spoke with an accented English just now.
I have no idea what this is, but I’m almost sure it has to do with Adrian. Are they kidnapping me to force him into doing something? I don’t think it’s because of a ransom, or they would’ve made their demands by now.
In that document, it was mentioned that Adrian was the target of many assassination attempts. Because of his position, he knows more than he should and uses it for the brotherhood’s benefits. Whether it’s to seize power, to order a hit, or to steal deals. His control over critical information has made him a target for numerous crime organizations and cartels—including the Bratva’s classic allies.
Ogla mentioned once that he works from home for his own safety, and that the Pakhan prefers it because it keeps the brotherhood’s most valuable asset, Adrian, from danger.
“Let me go,” Yan groans.
I shake my head against his shoulder. I’m straddling his lap, both of my hands pressing on his wound. “They’ll kill you.”
He raises a brow. “If they don’t, the boss will.”