by LP Lovell
I take a seat at the breakfast bar next to Samuel with Gio on the other side. Nero pauses, turning to face me. He’s wearing jeans and a t-shirt, and it’s a testament to how rattled he is because I’ve never seen the Italian out of a suit. He’s a mafia boss. A cold killer. He’s the guy I hired to kill my father; a powerful cartel boss. And yet right now, he looks exactly how I feel. Helpless, pitiful…broken.
“Rafael, do you have contacts in Russia?” he asks.
He was grasping at straws. “I supply the Bratva with coke, but so do the other cartels. They’re business acquaintances only.”
He clenches and releases his fists before resuming his pacing. “We know where she’s heading, but we’d never get there in time. I just need to get someone to stop her.” He slams a palm against the breakfast bar. “But we fucking have no one.”
“Let me make a call.” I slide off the bar stool and go into the living room. Morning light heats my face as I stare at my phone. Do I try and help him? I let Una go last night because I knew it was her and only her who could get Anna back. My fingers tighten around the phone until my knuckles turn white. I’m not a man of morals. I understand only business and violence, and selfish need. Anna is the most selfish and absorbed need I have. Nero is my greatest business ally, and Una…well, she is something they both love. Where does that leave me? If I loved Anna, truly loved her, surely I’d save her sister? It’s what she would want, isn’t it?
I rest my forehead against the cool glass of the window, hoping to slow the whirlwind of useless thoughts firing through my head.
“Are you going to call Dimitri?” I glance over my shoulder at Samuel.
“I don’t know. I doubt very much that he’ll help.” There’s a moment of silence. “Would she hate me for letting her sister go?” I whisper.
“Does it matter? You love her. Do you really care if she hates you as long as she’s safe?”
“We’ve only ever known basic survival, Sam. The cartel was our salvation.” I look at him. “I feel like I can’t fucking breathe without her. I should be better, but I’d sacrifice a lot more than her sister to have her back.”
“Good. Because you’re probably going to have to.” He holds his hand out for the phone, and I place it in his palm. “I’ll call Dimitri.” He eyes me meaningfully, and I nod, walking out of the room. It’s best that it’s out of my hands.
The office door bursts open and Nero walks out looking like he’s about to end the world as we know it. Him and his men have been in there for hours.
“Una called,” he says through gritted teeth.
“What did she say?”
He glances at me, his expression ice-cold. “Goodbye. So now we do things the old-fashioned way.”
“What did you have in mind?”
A slow, wicked smile pulls at his lips and it’s weirdly settling. I understand that vicious glint in his eye all too well. “Blood, war, carnage. We’ll bring the Russians to their knees. Let’s see how long they keep hold of two women when their women are dying, and their businesses are crippled.”
A sense of relief rises in my chest, a spark of hope chasing away the helplessness that I’ve been feeling ever since Anna was taken. Action I can do. Waiting I cannot. But I have to give Una a chance. She sacrificed herself for her sister, and even though I have no faith that the Russian will stay true to his word and release her, I have to give it a second. Don’t I? The problem is, Nero is looking at me like he’s ready to set the world on fire and laugh as he watches it burn.
“What do you need?” I ask.
He takes a tin from his pocket, removing a cigarette and placing it between his lips. His lighter clicks, the flame dancing over the end. “I need you to take down their business. All of their drugs come from Mexico.”
I scrub a hand over my jaw. “They deal with several cartels.”
“Then do what you have to in order to cease their supply.”
“What about their guns?”
His lips twitch, though any trace of humor is completely absent from his expression. This is the Nero Verdi that even the Italians are terrified of. He carries a certain madness that’s so very unpredictable. “They buy from the Arabs. I have a man there.”
“Get me the times and places of the shipments and my men will handle it.” Subtly, my men will handle it subtly. If I’m careful, I can work this to my advantage. I just have to have zero culpability. Nero will cause enough problems that they’ll be focused on him, and as such, they’ll assume that any missing drugs or guns are due to him. I just want to get my girl and get out, but Nero and I are bound in this situation just as surely as the two sisters we’re fighting for. We have been since the moment he asked me to take Anna, perhaps even long before then. He did kill my father for me, after all, and that kind of favor brings with it an unbreakable loyalty.
He inhales a deep breath. “Good. Gio?” His guy appears like a ghost. “Get me some C4. Lots of it. New York is about to witness the biggest Russian barbeque it’s ever seen.”
Yes, madness, thinly disguised as genius, that’s Nero.
Standing, I leave the room with Samuel falling in step beside me. “Give it three days and then make contact with Nicholai Ivanov.”
I hate to wait that long. Each minute feels like the lowering of an axe towards Anna’s exposed neck, but I have to give Una a chance. She went there for a trade. There’s no incentive for him to be honorable about this. However, if I jump the gun too soon, I’ll be handing him the use of my port when he may have released her anyway. Three days is as long as I’m willing to give it but beyond that…well, fuck business. This has gone far beyond that. I don’t care about a port anymore.
She’s all that matters.
39
Anna
I’ve lost all track of time. Without windows, I can’t even say whether it’s day or night. The sensory deprivation is something I’m used to, but the lack of human contact is affecting me far more than I ever thought it could. I never thought I would crave interaction, but as I sit here, with what feels like the first vestiges of insanity caressing the edge of my mind, I wonder if all those men really kept me sane? Were those bleak interactions actually necessary to my survival? No, I refuse to believe that. Resting my back to the wall, I pull my knees to my chest and close my eyes. Rafael is right there, waiting behind my closed lids like an apparition. A small smile touches my lips when I picture him. I always knew hope was dangerous, but there it is, like a tiny flame barely staying alight in the darkness; the hope that Rafael will save me from this, even though the few rational parts of my mind know it’s impossible. Stupid. So very stupid. The only way I’m walking out of here is if my sister comes for me, and I pray that she doesn’t.
I hear the metallic click of the lock releasing, followed by the loud squealing of the hinges as the heavy metal door is opened. I expect the guard to come in with food, the same as always. Instead, Nicholai walks in, his immaculate suit in place, that cold, absent look in his eyes. The door slams closed behind him, the bang like a gunshot in the enclosed concrete cell.
“Ah, little bird.” A twisted smile pulls at his lips as his eyes flick over me. I say nothing, although a warped part of me craves this conversation, no matter how repulsive. “I hope you are finding your accommodations suitable.”
“I’ve had worse.”
He grins. “Ah, yes. A sex slave to the Sinaloa, but not before a stint with Alexandru Dalca.” He lifts his brows, and I inwardly flinch at the sound of The Master’s real name. My stomach churns uncomfortably. “He’s a man of rather…specific tastes, is he not?” I don’t answer, and his grin only widens. “And he does pay well.” This man is at the top of the Bratva, which makes him responsible for taking and selling me, just as he stole my sister all those years ago. I fear him almost as much as I’m disgusted by him.
“Why are you here?” I ask.
He folds his arms over his chest and leans against the wall next to the door. “Rafael D’Cruze.” My chest tight
ens at the sound of his name on this man’s lips. “What is he to you?”
I swallow heavily, trying to force my mind to think, to give him a glimmer of truth without revealing my love for Rafael. This is a man who would use love against me and Rafe both. “He took me in when Nero bought me from the Sinaloa.”
“So he is loyal to you?”
“He may feel a duty of protection.”
“But you are loyal to him.”
“This has nothing to do with Rafael. He only took me in at Nero’s request. This is about my sister and Nero Verdi.”
He smirks. “I have your sister.”
That takes me off guard. “You do?”
“Yes, soon my little dove will be restored to her former glory.”
“If Una is here then why do you still want me?”
“It seems Rafael D’Cruze would like you back, but I have much better uses for you.” He claps his hands together and pushes off the wall, coming over to the cot. Sitting on the edge, he reaches out and strokes a cold finger down my cheek. “You are my little dove’s sister,” he says with an almost childlike glee. “Such prize genetics. You know, children are the easiest to mold. The younger you train them, the more loyal they are. The better soldiers they become.” He sighs. “I regret that I did not find my little dove sooner.” A chill sweeps over my skin at his words. Child soldiers. It’s so wrong. “But imagine if you bred soldiers…” I freeze, my heart rate ticking up as the gravity of what he’s saying sinks in. “You will breed the next generation, little bird. Your sister will give me a child, and so will you.”
“No.” I shake my head, backing away from him, but there’s nowhere to go. Only this room.
“You will be well taken care of.” He says it as though this will reassure me. He stands, and I pull my trembling hands against my stomach.
“I can’t have children!” It may be a death sentence, but I don’t care because I know what comes next.
He smiles indulgently. “Oh, you will, little bird.” He walks to the door and raps over the metal. It opens with a high-pitched squeal, and he beckons someone inside. A man steps forward, his back ramrod straight and his hands clasped behind his back.
“Sir,” the man says, his absolute undivided attention on Nicholai.
“You are to impregnate her.” He points at me, and my chest tightens until I can barely suck oxygen into my lungs. Squeezing my eyes shut, I will myself to calm, to find the numb indifference I used to fall into so easily. My pulse hammers against my eardrums in an erratic rhythm. The deafening bang of the door slamming shut echoes through my mind, and I open my eyes. The soldier is standing in the middle of the room, his expression devoid of anything whatsoever.
Marching over to me, he grabs my ankles and pulls until I’m flat on my back. He tears the tracksuit pants down my legs before unbuckling his belt. It’s methodical and detached. The panic is rising, creeping higher and higher until he presses his body between my legs. This isn’t happening. Not again. I can’t.
I try to fight him off, but it‘s pointless. I’m weak and unprepared for this. In an instant, my walls crumble, and my world turns to rubble in a matter of seconds. I thought I was safe. I’ll never be safe. All my thoughts dives into a flat spin, and I start to freefall, plummeting helplessly towards the ground so fast, I can’t even process the descent. My conscious mind blinks, like a light flashing on and off before it finally checks out completely. I sink into the cold dark waters at the depths of my very self, allowing them to drown out everything. Instead of fighting it, I welcome the darkness with open arms, and it falls over me like a warm blanket, swaddling me in its embrace. I barely register the rigid, awkward movements of his body.
It’s over almost as quickly as it started. He simply gets up and leaves, the door slamming shut behind him. The sliding of the lock signals that I’m once again alone in my imprisonment. Awareness gradually creeps back in, and I wish it wouldn’t. Dragging myself off the bed, I make it to the toilet in the corner of the room before throwing up the entire contents of my stomach.
I thought I’d escaped this life, but now I’m right back here, forced to endure it once more. And for what? To carry a child I’m incapable of conceiving? It was the first thing The Master did: sterilize me. Nicholai wants a child, which means I will have to endure this over and over again until he realizes it’s pointless.
I slide to the ground, my bare skin hitting the concrete floor. The thought of Rafael, the one that usually brings me suck comfort, now has tears streaking down my face. What would he think of me now? This feels like a betrayal to him, and I hate that I’m not strong enough to stop it.
I hate myself.
40
Rafael
It’s been over two months since Anna was taken, and with each day that passes, I get more desperate, more despondent, and more violent. The cartel is corrupt and dangerous, but my world has never been as dark as it has the last two months. Una’s plan failed, and I’ve been trying to enact a plan B ever since. We’ve made every effort to contact Nicholai Ivanov, only to come up with nothing. The simple fact is, if he wanted to deal with me, he would. He’d rather keep Anna.
I tighten my hand around the steering wheel, the ever-present tension riding me even harder than usual tonight. “It’s here,” Samuel says quietly, breaking the silence in the car. He hands me the night vision binoculars, and the radio. “Move in, get ready,” I say into it.
Looking through the binoculars, I see the grainy image of a cargo plane hovering only meters above the runway before the wheels bump over the ground. It barrels along the tarmac before finally slowing and coming to a halt.
The ramp at the back lowers, and several vehicles come down the runway, heading towards it. I pick up the radio again. “Grenade launchers. Snipers.”
It all happens before my eyes like a perfectly executed dance. Several grenades fire across the distance from the tree line to the approaching cars. All three vehicles explode into a huge fireball, and I no longer need night vision to see because the entire airfield is lit up. Men rush from the back of the plane only to fall like puppets with their strings snapped under the bullets of my snipers. The plane engines start up again, and I sigh. There’s always one. I watch as a lone figure darts across the runway to one of the wheels, before retreating. The plane moves forward several feet before the wheel explodes and the wings tilt at a precarious angle, the left wing colliding with the tarmac. It’s nothing but anarchy, death, and destruction, and I revel in it right now. The longer she’s gone, the less of my humanity I feel. I crave this kind of madness. I want everyone and anyone associated with the Russians eviscerated—for them to bleed and burn just as surely as I am. I’ve never been so unhinged, and I can’t find the will to give a fuck.
“Get them to load the guns,” I say to Samuel. He gets out of the car, and I pull away, winding the SUV through the snowy woodland on the edge of the Russian runway. It’s really too easy, all of this. No wonder the Bratva are so wealthy. The government is even more corrupt than in Mexico. Guns and drugs run through this country as plentiful as food or water. The Bratva have so much power that no one could or would stand against them. Except me and Nero.
Of course, we don’t have to stop the drugs so much. Carlos is handling that from our end. We’ve allowed the cartels to keep selling to the Russians, keeping our involvement silent. But as soon as those shipments are past the border they’re fair game. We’ve stopped most of them, not to mention, exponentially increased our own stocks. I even ‘steal’ my own shipments to avoid suspicion. Dimitri is getting increasingly more fractious as his supplies continue to dwindle. Their business is suffering on all fronts, and of course, he blames Nero.
The Italian has been on the rampage, declaring war in a big way. And still, there’s no end in sight. Nicholai still has Anna and Una, but not her child. I know very little of the details, only that Una managed to get help on the inside. The child was smuggled out to Nero. You’d think that would ease him somewhat, b
ut I think it’s done the opposite. Perhaps he has even more to fight for: his son’s mother.
The Russians are fleeing his city in droves because no one is safe from Nero’s wrath right now. All this, and still nothing. I’m starting to lose hope.
The tires of the car bump over the rough ground, and I pull onto the country road that leads away from the airstrip. I don’t pass a single car for miles until I reach the outer limits of Moscow. The barren countryside bows to civilization, the low orange glow of street lights giving a somber air to the bleak, snowy streets.
I pull into the driveway of a nondescript-looking house at the end of a cul-de-sac. My footsteps mar the snow as I walk up the path. The rental house is cold, and I swear every floorboard creaks when I step inside. I could have left men here to stop the gun shipments, gone home to the desert and the heat, but I can’t. It’s like there’s an invisible chord bolted to my chest, attached to Anna. The further I am from her, the more I feel as though it’ll snap, and the moment it does, I don’t know what I’ll do. Being here, in Russia, I know I’m under the same sky as she is; it brings a small comfort.
I tell myself I need to be here. The truth is, I’ve abandoned my cartel and dragged my men up to this frozen hell and for what? My own personal obsession. They never complain though. They’re just happy if they’re getting to blow shit up, steal guns and fuck the Russians.
I take the bottle of vodka off the worktop and tip it up, watching the bubbles drift upwards as the burning liquid trickles down my throat. I swallow several mouthfuls before setting it down and taking a cigar from my pocket. I’ve always been a man of vices, but I find them more of a crutch these days, leveling out the extremes of so much violence. This isn’t my cartel, there’s no business angle, no political agenda, no reason to be tactful in any way shape or form. As long as we get the guns, it doesn’t matter how we do it, and I find myself craving the bloodiest methods possible. Hatred for these people festers away at my soul, driving me to lose all sight of reason. And in the wake of so much unrestrained aggression, I seem to reach for the bottle, allowing it to level me out, to keep me from losing it completely. This is the vicious circle of my life without Anna, without her gentleness, her innocence. I spent a long time trying to escape the man I’d been forced to become, and she made me want to be better. Now…it’s like the free-fall into hell with nothing but fire awaiting me.
