At least he understands.
Vladimir glares at Kyle, then at me. “That doesn’t give him the right to endanger the brotherhood’s affairs.”
“And be secretive about it,” Igor says.
“We can just choose a punishment and get it over with,” Mikhail suggests.
Damien raises his hand. “Pakhan, me! I want to punch Adrian’s face a few times.”
Kirill throws a napkin at him. “Shut the fuck up, Orlov.”
“What? Vladimir did it, why can’t I?”
“Don’t you have anything to say?” Rai stares at me. “You should explain.”
“I already did to the Pakhan. I have no further explanations to offer.”
“You should,” Kirill grinds out. “Make it count.”
“I killed Richard because he assaulted my wife and would’ve raped her if she didn’t defend herself. I would do it all over again if I got the chance. If you consider that betrayal, you can go ahead and punish me for it. I have nothing left to say on the matter.”
Sergei stares at me. “I should kill you.”
“Do it, Pakhan,” Vladimir says.
“Pakhan,” Kirill speaks in a placating tone. “He had a convincing reason.”
“One he hid from us until we found out on our own,” Igor counters.
“I planned to kill you to set an example,” Sergei continues. “But I had a curious visit late at night.”
“From whom?” Mikhail asks.
Vladimir clicks his tongue.
“Lazlo Luciano and his underboss.” Sergei interlaces his fingers on the table. “He said we’d share his new mayor and he would even give us an in with the cartels he signed with, but he had one condition.”
“What?” Damien stuffs his face with a cupcake. “Don’t leave us in suspense, Pakhan.”
“He’ll only deal with Adrian.”
While I asked Lazlo to help me in the past, I knew he wouldn’t do it so readily, and certainly not with his underboss present. Nicolo Luciano is too cautious and has always questioned any move before Lazlo could take it. The younger brother wouldn’t agree to share their power with us when they secretly planned to push us aside after they’re done with squashing the other Italian families.
The timing is too perfect, too…convenient. As if Lazlo had a major push.
It can’t be.
I narrow my eyes on Kolya and he lowers his head. The fuck?
“If it were any other person or any other circumstances, you would’ve had a bullet in your head right about now. But we need the Italians and the cartels, and you will make sure they’re under our control.” Sergei stands. “This doesn’t mean you get out of any punishment. I’ll think of something fitting of your betrayal.”
I nod. “Am I free to go now?”
“Yes. This is your first and only strike, Volkov.”
With another nod, I turn around and step out of the dining room. Kolya follows after me, and Fedor, who was smoking in a corner away from all of the other guards, joins us, stubbing out his cigarette on the way.
I rein in my temper until we’re in the car and we’re moving off Sergei’s house. I face Kolya who’s sitting beside me in the backseat. “What the fuck happened?”
“Lazlo came to meet Sergei.”
“That’s not what I’m asking. How the fuck was he convinced? The answer will determine whether or not you remain alive, Kolya.”
“I assume Mrs. Volkov met with him.”
“You assume?”
“I saw the tracker moving when we were on the plane. Kill me if you like, but I had to turn a blind eye because I knew that was the only possible way to keep you alive. Thankfully, it worked.”
Fuck!
I grab him by the collar. “At the expense of disclosing Lia’s origins. At the expense of dragging her into all of this. Now, Lazlo will never let her go.”
“Who cares? She’s your wife and she did the right thing by going to Lazlo. If she hadn’t, Sergei would’ve put a bullet in your head. You won’t be able to protect her if you’re buried six feet under, Boss.”
I release him with a harsh shove, my knuckles burning with the need to drive my fist through a wall.
Or a person.
The reality of the doomed situation slams into me with a violence that bleeds through my veins.
I am alive. I am. But at what price?
Because from now on, it’ll be impossible to keep Lia out of the limelight.
26
Lia
I haven’t been able to sleep.
Every time I try to, thoughts about Adrian’s state flood my mind. Is he safe? Is he hurt?
And those thoughts kept me up all night, even after my father called and said he spoke with Sergei. Adrian still hasn’t shown up and Yan can’t reach Kolya or Fedor.
All night long, either I hugged Jeremy or I paced his room. I couldn’t go back to the master bedroom, not when Adrian isn’t there. Besides, my insides have been twisting with a weird feeling.
As if something is sitting wrong and I should fix it.
But what?
It must be about Adrian’s predicament, though aside from my meeting with Lazlo, I have no clue what else I can do. Yan and Boris—and even Ogla—are forbidding me from visiting Sergei, saying that it will do more harm than good.
If Adrian doesn’t come home today, I’m going to the Pakhan’s house. I have to do something aside from sitting around waiting for a bomb to drop.
It can’t be as terrifying as meeting my father, the Don himself, after thirty years of never knowing him. But even if it is scary, I’m ready to face whatever life throws my way.
I’m ready to fight.
To kick.
To claw.
A potent rush of energy has been whirling inside me since the moment I realized I have no choice but to step up in order to save our family.
It might not have started in the most conventional way and we’re not perfect by any means, but it’s still our family.
Mine and Adrian’s.
I cover a sleeping Jeremy to his chin and stand up. It’s early morning already and surely Yan has heard something about Adrian.
After putting on my coat, I head outside and make my way to the guest house. My feet come to a halt when I spot a shadow at the window up ahead.
At first, I think I’m imagining things again. That my mind is playing a sick game on me after leaving me alone for weeks. Is it the stress? Is that why I’m seeing people who shouldn’t be there?
The shadow, Winter, disappears from the window. I grab my wrist and dig my nails into the skin, and my lips part when pain explodes on the assaulted spot.
You know what? I’m done thinking I’m crazy. My mind does it just fine without me contributing to it, too.
I release my wrist and march to the guest house. One of the guards greets me at the entrance and I nod back as I breeze past him.
Taking the stairs two at a time, I struggle to keep my breath under control. When I reach Winter’s room, my heart is beating so loud, I can hear it in my ears.
I barge inside, and unlike what I witnessed less than a minute ago, Winter is in bed, the machines beeping in a moderate rhythm as she sleeps. The erratic sound of my harsh breathing spooks the shit out of me as I sense invisible hands closing around my throat.