Stolen By The Bratva King (NYC Russian Royals #2)

Chapter 46

46

Dante

F uck. The Cobra is burning.

Fucking fuck it. I didn’t see this coming, not tonight.

Anton didn’t just screw me over; he betrayed me to the greatest extent possible. When this is over, I will personally see to it that his beloved family dies screaming, women and children first.

That boat was a highly specialized vessel, designed and kitted out for its purpose. It took months to build trust with potential clients, gather incriminating footage for blackmail purposes, the works.

Now it’s all gone.

It seems ludicrous now, but I always thought the safest place for that stuff was onboard my ever-moving secret base, unfindable, always manned and guarded.

No one could sneak up on us out on the water except for a bratva boss masquerading as a client, aided and abetted by one of my own. Anton deserved to get his throat slit, but I wish I’d been the one to do it.

There’s nothing left. No money, no assets, no last-minute plays. I was gonna sell some merchandise, pay over the odds for more men, and regroup, but no.

Leon hit me before I had the chance to get my shit together.

And Emery. That fat bitch is undoubtedly safe in her luxury tower, far from my reach. Which is a shame because she’s the only means left to bring Leon to his knees.

I bring the binoculars to my eyes and torture myself with a front-seat view of my yacht as it sinks, the cold river extinguishing the flames, and it disappears below the surface.

Notably, no coastguard or police boats approach, and I’m wondering how much it costs to pay them off when a lightning bolt of inspiration nearly knocks me on my ass.

I may seem to be ruined, but Alexander the Great didn’t stop at the first city that defended itself. My investment was stolen, so I’m entitled to steal it back. An asset I can use to start again.

I take my phone from my pocket and dash off a text.

You found Fabrizio?

Dead already. The kid’s next. What gives?

Do I tell him? Fuck no. He’ll find out soon enough.

Change of plan. I’ll get Emery to go to work. Bring her and the kid alive.

That’s harder. Why?

I wanna spill the beans, but the less I say now, the better the whole story will go down later. I look like a fucking idiot thus far, so I’ll wait until the ball’s back in our court.

Explain later. You know where to take them.