“It’s not true,” I tell him honestly.
He exhales, looking anywhere but back at me as I turn his chair and place myself in his lap. I’ve seen so many different emotions in Kage.
Anger.
Jealousy.
Fear.
But this one is different.
My head turns toward his desk, and I notice he has a picture of him and Raff at his high school graduation on the screen. They look happy, with Raff’s arm tightly around him as they smile at the camera. It’s a picture that should be cherished, and yet he’s using it for something else entirely.
“Hey.” I put a hand on his cheek and his eyes lock with mine. “I love you.”
He exhales, the corners of his mouth twitching upward. “I love you, too.”
“Then tell me,” I say softly. “Are you mad because Nico blamed you, or because deep down, you blame yourself, too?”
Darkness has a way of creeping up on you. It gets under your skin, wrapping itself around your veins and injecting itself into your bloodstream. The longer it goes, the more it intensifies, until you’re clawing at your own skin just to remind yourself you’re alive.
It’s like the plague, and the cure is having Dmitri at my mercy—hanging in front of me so I can inflict all the pain he deserves.
He knows we’re searching for him. He’d be naive to think I’m not using everything in my power to find him. He knows, and he’s fucking loving it. It’s like the thrill of the chase, only reversed. The reason why he hasn’t run back to Russia until the properties are ready for transfer is because he’s getting off on this game of cat and mouse.
I hold the phone to my ear, my grip tightening by the second. “Why the fuck haven’t you found him yet?”
Mattia swallows so harshly I can hear it through the phone. “I’m sorry, sir. He must be taking extra precautions not to be found. I can assure you that we’ve been working day in and day out.”
“Extend the search,” I order. “Any Bratva you see, I want to know about it. I don’t care about their rank or their social status. You see one, you send me their location.”
“Yes, sir. Absolutely, sir.”
I hang up the phone and slam it down on my desk before the response is finished coming out of his mouth. Saxon walks in, with sweat glistening across her skin as she just finished her training with Ralph.
“You okay?” she asks as she comes closer. “You look frustrated.”
I grab her and pull her into my lap. “How do you feel about a little more practice before you deliver your revenge? Because it’s about to get messy around here.”
Like the violent little vixen she’s become, her grin widens and she nods excitedly, as if I just gave her the greatest gift of all.
IT DOESN’T TAKE LONG before we’re called with a location. It’s no one of importance, but just being a part of the Bratva organization makes him a target of mine. On my orders, Roman grabs Cesari and the two of them go to pick him up.
“Anything new on Nico?” I ask Beni as we wait.
He shakes his head. “We’ve got someone at the house at all times, but he’s been cooped up in the house all week. If it wasn’t for the twice a day that he comes down stairs to get food, we’d start to wonder if he’s dead.”
The day after the funeral, I decided to put someone at Raff’s old house for multiple reasons. For one, they need the protection. Dmitri has been there once before, and I wouldn’t put it past him to go again looking to kill one of them. Out of respect for Raff, I won’t leave them unprotected. The other reason is that Nico is one of few who know that Saxon is still alive, and with how unhinged he was at the funeral, I can’t take any chances with him blabbing about that to the wrong person.
“And Viola?”
He puts his hand out and rocks it from side to side. “Some days are better than others, but she’s hanging in there.”
“Wait,” Saxon interrupts us. “Turn that up.”
I look over at the TV, and my nostrils flare as I see Dalton’s picture on the screen. The headline on the bottom reads Forbes Penthouse For Sale. Beni turns the volume up and the three of us listen intently.
“The penthouse belonging to the Forbes family is up for sale after it became too hard for Dalton and Scarlett Forbes to keep living there after the tragic death of their daughter, Saxon,” the newscaster reports. “One of our own caught up with Dalton earlier to ask him about the decision to move, and this is what he had to say…”
The screen switches to footage of Dalton exiting the building with his briefcase in hand as the reporter runs alongside him for a comment.
“Mr. Forbes, is it true you listed your penthouse for sale?”
Dalton nods. “It is. Are you interested?”
The female interviewer chuckles. “I would be if I had your kind of money. You’ve lived there for decades. What made you finally decide to move?”
Dalton stops and runs his fingers through his hair. “It was a necessary move. Losing Saxon has been very difficult for all of us to cope with, and it’s too painful to live in the penthouse without her.”
“I am so sorry for your loss,” she tells him. “Have you bought another place in the city?”
He gives her his charming smile. “Uh, no comment.”
“Very well. Thank you for speaking with me.”
“You have a good day.”
Switching back to the newscaster, they move onto another headline as Beni turns the volume back down. Saxon stays glaring at the screen long after her father’s face disappears. Her hand is gripping the throw pillow so tight, it looks like she’s about to rip it to shreds.
“I want nothing more than to cut that smug grin right off his face,” she growls.
Beni turns to look at her with brows furrowed. “You mean wipe the smug grin off his face.”
She stares back at him, shaking her head slowly with the same fire in her eyes I fell in love with. Beni glances between her and me, his smile growing.
“Careful, boss. I think she might end up more dangerous than you are.”
I look down at Saxon and as her eyes meet mine, she relaxes into me. “There’s no doubt in my mind about that.”
And it’s true, because while I was raised to kill, she was born for it. She can look anyone in the eyes and make them think she’s their friend, right before she plunges a knife deep into their chest. It’s that charm that makes her so lethal.
OVER THE COURSE OF a week, we go through five different Bratva scumbags—each one more useless than the last. No matter what we do to them, none will give up Dmitri’s location. I’m starting to wonder if they’re incredibly loyal, or if they genuinely just don’t know where he is.
Catching a glance of Saxon in the backyard and one of our prisoners running around the back, I rush outside, but when I hear the silenced gunshots, my pace slows. I walk over to the ledge that overlooks the lawn portion of the yard and sit down, spreading my legs as my feet hang. Saxon is shooting at the Bratva prick, literally using him as target practice, and pride swells in my chest as I watch her.
“Your aim still sucks,” I tease as she misses her second to last shot.