Chapter 32 Ledger
LEDGER
The penthouse is silent when we arrive.
I guide Savannah inside, my hand never leaving her back. She’s stopped shaking, but her face is white, her eyes distant. Shock settling in.
“Sit,” I tell her, steering her toward the couch.
She sits. There’s blood on her sleeve, and she keeps looking at it like she can’t figure out how it got there.
“I need to make some calls,” I say. “Don’t move. Don’t go anywhere.”
She nods but doesn’t look at me.
I walk to my office and close the door. Pull out my phone and dial Silas. “Status?”
“Three Kozlov men down. Two dead, one critical. Police are swarming the scene. We got our people out before they arrived.” His voice is clipped, efficient. “Mason Porter took a bullet to the back. Paramedics got him out alive, but it’s bad. They’re taking him to Sunrise Hospital.”
“And the restaurant?”
“Chaos. At least fifteen witnesses, probably more. News vans are already arriving. This is going to be everywhere by tonight.”
“Savannah’s identity?”
“Clean. None of our men mentioned her name. As far as the police know, she was just a civilian caught in cross fire. We’ll keep it that way.”
“Good. What about the Kozlov man who survived?”
“In surgery. If he makes it, he’ll be in custody. But he won’t talk. These guys never do.”
I lean against my desk. “They came for her in broad daylight. In a crowded restaurant. They don’t care about exposure anymore.”
“No. This was a message. They wanted you to know they can get to her whenever they want.”
“They failed.”
“So what’s the play?”
I look at the door to the living room. Savannah is on the other side, covered in blood, traumatized because she tried to handle Mason herself.
“Maximum security. No one gets near her without going through our entire team. I want men on every entrance to this building. Cameras on every floor. If someone so much as looks at this penthouse wrong, I want to know about it.”
“Done. What else?”
“Reach out to the Volkov families in Chicago and Vegas. Tell them what happened. Tell them the Kozlovs are escalating and we need a united front.”
“You’re calling in the alliance.”
“I’m calling in everyone I have. Dmitri Kozlov tried to kidnap my pregnant wife in public. That can’t stand. The other families need to know if they let this slide, they’re next.”
“I’ll make the calls. Anything else?”
“Start moving assets. Offshore accounts, property deeds, anything liquid. If this goes bad, I need to be able to disappear with my family.”
Silas is quiet for a moment. “You really think it’ll come to that?”
“I think Dmitri is desperate enough to try anything. And I’m not taking chances with Savannah and the baby.”
“Understood. I’ll get it started.”
I hang up and stand there for a moment, staring at my phone. The screen shows three missed calls from Alexi. I call him back.
“Dad.” His voice is tight. “I just saw the news. They’re saying there was a shooting at Marelli’s. That’s where—”
“Savannah’s fine. She’s here with me.”
“What the hell happened?”
“She went to meet Mason without security. The Kozlovs were waiting. They tried to take her.”
“Jesus Christ.” He exhales hard. “Is she hurt?”
“No. Shaken up, but physically fine. The baby’s fine.”
“And Mason?”
“Shot. He’s in surgery.” I walk to the window and look out at the city. “He tried to help her. Threw himself at one of the Kozlov men. That’s the only reason I got to her in time.”
“So he’s not completely worthless.”
“No. Just stupid. And desperate. They paid him twenty thousand dollars to bring her to that restaurant.”
Alexi curses. “You’re going after them.”
“I’m going after all of them. Dmitri, his men, and anyone associated with the Kozlov family. This ends now.”
“What do you need me to do?”
“Stay at the house. I’m implementing full security protocols. No one leaves without clearance. No one comes in without being vetted.”
“For how long?”
“Until I’ve eliminated the threat.” I turn away from the window. “I need to go. Savannah needs me.”
“Dad?” He pauses. “Be careful. They’re not playing games anymore.”
“Neither am I.”
I hang up and return to the living room. Savannah hasn’t moved. She’s still staring at her hands, at the blood on her sleeve.
I sit beside her. “Savannah.”
She doesn’t respond.
“Look at me.”
Slowly, she turns her head. Her eyes are red-rimmed but dry like she’s too shocked to cry.
“Mason’s in surgery,” I say. “He’s alive. They’re doing everything they can.”
“He got shot because of me.”
“He got shot because he made a deal with the Kozlovs. Because he was stupid and desperate and thought he could play both sides.”
“He tried to save me. At the end, he tried to help.”
“I know. And maybe that counts for something. But it doesn’t change what he did. He brought you there knowing they’d be waiting. He sold you out for money.”
“I know.” Her voice is barely a whisper. “I know what he did. But I still—” She stops. “I can’t stop seeing it. The way he looked at me after he got shot. Like he was surprised. Like he didn’t think they’d actually shoot him.”
“They used him. Just like they’re using everyone else who’s desperate enough to take their money.”
“I shouldn’t have gone. I knew it was wrong. Knew you’d never allow it. But I felt so trapped, so—” She looks at me. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry I lied to Alexi. That I went without security, I just wanted to prove I could handle it myself.”
“And you almost got killed.”
“I know.”
“You and our baby almost got taken by people who want to cut you open and send pieces of you to me as revenge.” My voice comes out harsher than I intended. “Do you understand what that means? What they would have done to you?”
She flinches. “Yes.”
“No. I don’t think you do.” I stand, needing to move, needing to not look at her right now because if I do, I’ll see how close I came to losing her.
“Five more minutes. If I’d been five minutes later, they would have had you out the back exit.
Into a car. Gone. And I would never have seen you again. ”
“Ledger—”
“You lied to Alexi. Took a car service instead of my security. Went to meet a man who’s been stalking you. A man who grabbed you hard enough to leave bruises. And you thought you could handle it.”
“I thought if I gave him closure—”
“There is no closure with men like Mason. There’s only what they want, and when you don’t give it to them, they escalate.
” I turn to face her. “He’s been working with the Kozlovs for weeks.
Maybe months. Feeding them information about your routines, your movements. That’s how they kept finding you.”
“He said they paid him twenty thousand.”
“They probably paid him more. Small amounts over time to keep him loyal. To keep him bringing them intel.” I cross my arms. “And you walked right into their trap because you felt sorry for him.”
“That’s not fair.”
“Isn’t it? You knew meeting him was dangerous. Knew I’d say no if you asked. So you lied and went anyway. And now a man is dying, there are bodies in a restaurant, and the Kozlovs know exactly how to get to you.”
She stands. “I made a mistake. I know I did. But you don’t get to stand there and lecture me about decisions when you’ve been keeping me locked up like a prisoner for weeks.”
“To keep you safe.”
“To keep me controlled. There’s a difference.”
“Not when people are actively trying to kill you.”
“I can’t live like this!” Her voice rises. “I can’t live in a penthouse with guards at every door, asking permission to go to the doctor, lying to people I care about just to have one conversation with someone from my old life.”
“Your old life is gone. You need to accept that.”
“I had accepted it until you made me feel like I couldn’t breathe. Like every decision had to go through you first.”
“Because your decisions almost got you killed today!”
She’s breathing hard, face flushed. I’m standing too close, anger and fear mixing into something volatile.
“I’m sorry,” she says finally. “I’m sorry I lied. I’m sorry I put myself in danger. But I needed to do something for myself. Something that wasn’t approved by you or monitored by your security team. I needed to feel like I still had some control over my own life.”
“And how did that work out?”
She looks away. “I know. I know it was stupid.”
“It was more than stupid. It was reckless. Selfish. You’re not just risking yourself anymore. You’re risking our child.”
“Don’t you think I know that? Don’t you think every single second in that restaurant, I was thinking about the baby? About what they’d do to both of us?”
“Then why did you go?”
“Because I’m tired of being afraid! I’m tired of looking over my shoulder and jumping at every shadow and feeling like I’m in prison even though I didn’t do anything wrong.
” She puts her hand on her stomach. “I wanted one hour. One conversation to close a chapter of my life. And instead, I got men with guns and Mason bleeding on the floor and you looking at me like I’m some stupid child who can’t be trusted. ”
“Right now, you can’t be trusted.”
She steps back like I’ve hit her. “Wow.”
“I’m being honest.”
“You’re being cruel.”
“I’m being realistic. You made a choice that endangered our family.
That put my security team at risk. That created a national news story.
And you did it all because you felt trapped.
” I move closer. “Well, guess what? It’s about to get a lot worse.
Because after today, you’re not leaving this penthouse without a full detail.
You’re not going anywhere without me knowing where, when, and who you’re meeting.
And you’re not making decisions about your safety without my approval. ”
“So I’m your prisoner now. Officially.”
“You’re my wife. And I’m keeping you alive whether you like it or not.”
She stares at me. Then turns and walks down the hall toward our bedroom. The door closes with a slam.
I stand in the living room, hands clenched at my sides, trying to breathe through the rage and fear still coursing through me.
My phone buzzes. Silas.
“Turn on the news.”
I grab the remote and turn on the TV. Every channel is covering the shooting. Aerial shots of Marelli’s, police cars everywhere, crime scene tape cordoning off the entire block.
“—at least five dead in what authorities are calling a gang-related shooting at the upscale Marelli’s Restaurant in downtown Manhattan,” the anchor says.
“Witnesses describe a chaotic scene with multiple gunmen exchanging fire inside the crowded restaurant. At least a dozen civilians were injured in the cross fire.”
They cut to footage of paramedics loading a stretcher into an ambulance. I catch a glimpse of Mason’s face before they close the doors.
“Police have not yet identified the shooters or confirmed any gang affiliation, but sources say this may be connected to ongoing organized crime activity in the area.”
Another cut. A reporter standing outside the restaurant, talking to a woman who was inside.
“It was terrifying,” the woman says, shaking. “Men with guns just started shooting. Tables were flying. People were screaming. I thought I was going to die.”
“Did you see what started the shooting?”
“I don’t know. There was this young woman—pregnant, I think—and these men were trying to take her. Another man tried to stop them and got shot. Then it was just chaos.”
The reporter looks excited. “A pregnant woman? Can you describe her?”
“I didn’t really see her face. Everything happened so fast. But I hope she’s okay. She looked terrified.”
Silas comes back on the line. “We’re keeping her identity sealed. I’ve got people working on the witness statements, making sure her description stays vague.”
“Good. What about the Kozlov man in surgery?”
“Still alive. But the doctors don’t think he’ll make it through the night. Lost too much blood.”
“And Mason?”
“Critical but stable. They’ve got him in the ICU under police protection. He’s not talking yet.”
“When he does, I want to know what he says.”
“Already on it. I’ve got someone at the hospital monitoring his room.”
I turn off the TV. Can’t watch any more. “What’s the federal response?”
“FBI is sniffing around. They know this was organized crime, but they don’t have specifics yet. I’d expect them to start making inquiries within forty-eight hours.”
“Then we have forty-eight hours to clean this up.” I walk to the windows and look out at the city lights. “Set up a meeting with the Chicago and Vegas families. I want everyone in the same room by tomorrow night.”
“That fast?”
“Dmitri is escalating. Today was public, messy, and desperate. That means he’s planning something bigger. Something he thinks will end this once and for all.” I press my hand against the glass. “I’m not waiting for him to make the next move.”