Total pages in book: 58
Estimated words: 56771 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 284(@200wpm)___ 227(@250wpm)___ 189(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 56771 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 284(@200wpm)___ 227(@250wpm)___ 189(@300wpm)
“And now this meeting…”
He’s probing.
We’ve arranged to meet Fyodor at a busy restaurant in the mall, a public place even the Bratva aren’t insane enough to attack. We both know that hitting a high-traffic location means dead innocents en masse, news coverage, and the Feds. Nobody ever beats the government, not even the Bratva, and Fyodor knows this.
“He’s going to try to make peace again. He wouldn’t have offered if he didn’t know he was on the back foot, and delivering Matvei was a good thing to do.” Dario shrugs. “For us.”
“The locations Matvei gave us…”
“All emptied and abandoned before we got there,” he says. “Nothing left. He knew we’d get the locations, but he still gave us the man.”
“You sound like you want to be his friend.”
As we drive through the city, Dario turns away, saying nothing for a while.
“Is your god-awful mood about the girl? Emma?”
I don’t respond, but I don’t have to, not when Dario reads me. Maybe he notices when I swallow heavily or that my jaw won’t stop pulsing like I’ve got some goddamn condition.
“That’s a yes,” Dario mutters.
“I told her,” I growl.
“What?”
I almost laugh. “That she belongs to me forever. She’s mine. I told her that.”
“The hell you do that for?” Dario asks.
I finally look at him. My little brother’s mouth is slightly open, a picture of shock, his eyes narrowed in a calculation fashion.
“It’s the truth. The second I saw her, I knew. She was mine. She belongs to me. I couldn’t let her leave after that. I became a kidnapper at that moment.”
“Jeez,” Dario says. “I had no idea you felt this strongly.”
“It’s not a feeling. It’s knowing. It’s certainty. It’s never having to question if she’s the woman for me because it’s as clear as the color of grass or the sky. It’s as clear as the wind.”
“I thought Rosa was the poet.”
I smirk at the old joke. “You get the point.”
“How did she react?”
“I don’t know. I left. We weren’t supposed to be together at all.”
Savage, protective instincts grip me when I remember how she cried, sobbing into my chest. The pain poured out about her mother’s death, the grief after, and the flit with madness. Did she really think that would make me stop wanting her? Nothing could, ever.
“We’re going to have children together,” I go on, and I’m almost smiling now, thinking of the future, all the light and the happiness. I picture Rosa playing with her nieces and nephews, smiling at me with my arm wrapped around her best friend. It even sounds like a fantasy.
“Have you told her this yet?”
“I didn’t tell her anything. We have to stop.”
“How are you going to have kids together if you’re going to stop?”
“Now you’re starting to see what it’s like inside my head.”
“I’m torn. I want to see you happy so badly. You deserve it after all you’ve done for this city, but I can’t imagine Rosa being okay with it. I’m trying, really, and I just can’t.”
I grind my teeth. “But you understand,” I say.
“You’ve finally found somebody—the one true love of your life. I’ve always wondered if you ever would. How does it feel?”
“It’s like you said when I asked about your love. Like slotting into place. Like I’m meant to be here.”
“Yeah, well.” Dario turns away, looking out the window. “We should be there soon.”
Fyodor is far smaller than I expected him to be. I imagined him to look more like Matvei did, but he’s tall and thin. He sits in a suit two sizes too big for him, so pale he’s almost albino, with a shaved head. No tattoos, no jewelry.
At nearby tables, Dario sits with a few of our men. A few Bratva are at another table in case Fyodor or I physically attack each other.
“It’s nice to meet you,” Fyodor says, sounding almost genuine.
I incline my head. Under his orders, countless evil things have been done. There’s no use letting him see how angry I am—how much I’d like to smash his bald, pale head like an egg and watch the goddamn yolk spill out. He’s done these evil things in my city. I’m going to be raising a family here soon.
“And you, Fyodor.”
“Have you thought about my offer?”
“I’m not splitting the city in two.”
“It has worked before. Borderlines don’t have to be immovable things.”
“The city is mine. The war is close, but recently, when we burned your crap, we gained the upper hand. You’ll threaten me with hurting innocents, but we both know that if you stayed here and were allowed to operate, countless more would die or be trafficked. Lives would be ruined.”
Fyodor flinches, then masks it behind his placid expression. I know I’ve gotten to him. I can sense it like a shark with blood.
“We can fight for two, three more years,” Fyodor says. “So much bloodshed.”