Chapter 13
DANTE
Ihate coming down here.
It stinks. It honestly smells like shit. The waste treatment facilities cloud the area with the aromatic smell of waste.
I fucking hate it.
The industrial area on Lake Calumet is where we hold several warehouses. Some are legit business holdings. Others are for obvious tasks that require privacy and easy access to a dumping ground.
"You sure he's in there?" Alexei asks, checking his weapon one more time.
I study the building through the SUV's tinted windows. Third floor, second window from the left—that's where Lev Gorin is supposed to be waiting with the fifty thousand he owes us. Three months overdue, two warnings ignored, and now we're collecting the hard way.
"Bogdan's intelligence is usually reliable," I say, though something feels off about this whole situation.
"Usually."
Rarely do I have to handle the unpleasant duties, but Bogdan said Lev needed to talk to me. He had information but insisted he would only talk to me.
The skepticism in Alexei's voice mirrors my own doubts. Lev is small-time, a gambling addict who got in over his head with our sports book. Fifty thousand isn't worth the time it takes to collect it personally, but Bogdan insisted this needed my direct attention.
"Two minutes," I tell Alexei as we exit the vehicle. "In and out."
We exit the SUV and head inside. Everything looks normal, but I can’t help but feel like something is off. We take the stairs, both of us staying on high alert.
By the time we reach the third floor, every instinct I have is screaming danger.
"Boss," Alexei says quietly, his hand moving to his weapon.
"I know."
Too quiet. Too empty. If Lev were really here, there would be signs of life.
Instead, there's nothing but the kind of silence that usually precedes violence. I get that feeling. It’s a little tingle at the base of my neck.
The door to the supposed meeting room stands slightly ajar, darkness beyond it. I gesture for Alexei to take position on the opposite side, then push the door open with my foot.
Three things happen simultaneously.
A muzzle flash from the darkened room. The crack of gunfire. The burn of a bullet grazing my shoulder as I dive sideways.
"Ambush!" Alexei shouts, returning fire as I roll behind an open door.
More shots, the distinctive bark of automatic weapons. This isn't Lev trying to avoid paying his debts—this is a professional hit.
"How many?" I call out over the gunfire.
"At least three! Maybe more!"
I peer around the door, counting muzzle flashes. Four shooters, positioned to catch us in a crossfire.
Professional setup, professional weapons, professional execution.
Someone wanted me dead, and they'd done their homework.
Another burst of gunfire chips drywall inches from my head. I'm suddenly transported back five years to another ambush, another moment when my control failed and cost someone I loved their life.
Katya's laugh, bright and musical, as she grabs my car keys. "I'll pick up Mila from daycare. You focus on your meeting."
The explosion six hours later. The phone call that shattered my world. The small coffin that held what was left of the woman who gave me my daughter.
My fault. My enemies. My failure to protect what mattered most.
The memory hits like a physical blow, but it also sharpens my focus. I won't lose anyone else to my mistakes.
"Alexei! Southwest corner, suppressing fire!"
"Got it!"
I use the distraction to move, sprinting across open space to a better position. A bullet tugs at my jacket, close enough to feel the heat, but I make it to cover.
From this angle, I can see two of the shooters clearly. Professional killers, no doubt about it. They thought they’d take me by surprise and kill me before I knew what hit me.
Their mistake.
The first shooter falls to my return fire, clutching his chest as he topples behind an overturned table. The second tries to relocate, but Alexei's positioned perfectly to cut off his escape route.
Two down. Two to go.
"Behind you!" Alexei shouts.
I spin just as a third shooter emerges from concealment, his weapon trained on my center mass. Time slows to that moment between life and death, when training and instinct are all that stand between you and eternity.
I fire twice. Center mass, just like my father taught me when I was barely old enough to hold a gun properly.
The shooter crumples, his weapon clattering across the concrete floor.
"Last one's running!" Alexei calls out.
I can hear footsteps echoing in the stairwell, someone fleeing rather than finishing the job. Smart choice—a wounded enemy can recover, but a dead one can't.
"Let him go," I say, checking my shoulder where the bullet grazed me. "We need to get out of here before police arrive."
Alexei emerges from cover, his weapon still drawn, eyes scanning for additional threats. "You hit?"
"Just a graze. You?"
"Clean." He moves to check the bodies while I examine the scene, looking for clues about who set this up.
The weapons are probably untraceable. The shooters' clothes are generic, no identifying marks or accessories. Professional work, designed to leave no trail back to whoever ordered the hit.
But someone knew exactly where I'd be tonight, exactly when I'd arrive, exactly how I'd approach the building.
“That fucker,” I mutter. “We’re going to find Lev and I’m going to make it hurt.”
"Boss," Alexei says calmly. "You need to see this."
He's standing over the first body. But it's not the corpse that has his attention—it's what's he’s just pulled from the man’s pocket.
A photograph. My blood turns to ice.
Hannah. Smiling at the camera, unaware she's being watched. The photo was taken recently, maybe yesterday, somewhere on my estate grounds.
"They were watching the house," I say quietly.
"Watching her," Alexei corrects.
Hannah is in danger because of me. Because I brought her into this world. She’s collateral. That’s all anyone is supposed to know. Nobody knows about—us.
Except they must. There’s no other reason someone would be trying to take her out.
"We need to go," I tell Alexei, pocketing the photograph. "Now."
The drive back to the estate passes in grim silence, both of us processing what just happened. Someone set me up to die tonight.
The obvious would be Lev. But he's not connected. He doesn't have the kind of money it takes to pay professionals.
My mind goes to darker places. Bogdan gave me the location. Bogdan's intelligence said Lev would be there, waiting to talk.
But that's insane. Bogdan is family. We grew up together, trained together, built this organization together. He has nothing to gain from my death—Radimir would take over, not him. Unless...
No. I'm being paranoid. Bogdan has been loyal for twenty years. He wouldn't betray me over wounded pride or old resentments.
Would he?
I push the thought away, but it lodges somewhere in the back of my mind like a splinter I can't quite reach.
Richard, then. Did he think he could kill me and get his daughter back? Maybe that's what the photo was about. Lure me away and snatch her from the estate.
It doesn't make sense—Richard has no connections to hire professionals, no resources to coordinate an ambush. But the alternative means suspecting my own blood.
And I'm not ready to go there. Not yet.
By the time we reach the estate, it's nearly midnight. The house is quiet, most of the staff asleep, security making their regular rounds. Normal, peaceful, the kind of domestic tranquility I've spent five years building for my daughter.
"I'll coordinate with security," Alexei says as we park. "Make sure they know about potential threats."
"Double the perimeter watch. No one gets on the grounds without my personal authorization."
He nods once. “Got it.”
Inside the house, I check on Mila first—a habit so ingrained I barely think about it anymore. She's fast asleep, her dark hair spread across the pillow.
Even in sleep, my daughter looks peaceful, protected, unaware of the violence that constantly threatens to breach our carefully constructed sanctuary.
I pull her blanket up higher and press a kiss to her forehead, breathing in the scent of her favorite bubble bath and strawberry shampoo.
The hallway is dim as I make my way toward the guest wing, my feet carrying me to Hannah's door before my conscious mind decides to go there. I stand outside and try to reconcile the woman inside with what happened tonight.
Did her father try to kill me?
The thought circles in my mind like a predator. Everyone I care about becomes a target. Even if I convinced her to stay under her own free will, she would always be in danger. I could kill her father and keep her, but that would make my feelings clear.
It’s too dangerous.
Katya lost her life because someone wanted to hurt me. Because I failed to anticipate the threat. I let my guard down at exactly the wrong moment and she died. Mila would have died with her if there hadn’t been a last-minute change of plans.
Richard is playing a deadly game. He has to know he won’t win. But what would I do to save Mila? I would go to war. I would burn the fucking world to ashes.
Is Richard doing the same?
The man has never struck me as ruthless, but maybe I don’t really know him at all. If he’s willing to steal, what else?
Hannah Quinn has become essential to me in ways I don't fully understand. The idea of losing her is not something I can get my head around.
I press my palm against her door. In a few hours, she'll wake up and demand answers about her father's situation. She'll look at me with those beautiful green eyes and challenge my authority. She’s going to fight me while she fights for her father’s life.
And I love that about her.
She’s loyal. That’s not something everyone has but my zaika—she does. Could she ever be loyal to me?
Not after I kill her father. I’ll lose her forever. That’s what is keeping me from doing what needs to be done. Alexei knows it. So do Bogdan and my uncle. I’m showing weakness.
I'll have to investigate the betrayal and eliminate my enemies. I need to make the hard choices that leadership demands.
I'm running out of time to figure out which matters more—my duty to the Bratva, or the woman sleeping peacefully on the other side of this door.