48
R oman gazed into the innocent eyes of the little boy in front of him, and the resentment he felt almost suffocated the breath right out of his lungs.
How could any father use his own flesh and blood like a human shield against what he was long overdue?
He'd always known Davit was cruel and vindictive, but this... it was just too much even for him.
“It's good of you to visit, Roman,” the man in question mocked from behind the child he held in front of him with one arm. The other was extended in Roman's direction, the barrel of a small gun pointed directly at his head.
“You fucking coward,” Roman spat, his anger nearly setting him into motion. He had to hold himself back for the sake of the child spilling hot tears over his old man's spinelessness. “Does this make you feel powerful—using your own kid like that?”
The Armenian's gaze darkened at being accused of cowardice. “You’d better watch how you speak to me, boy . Didn't your father teach you anything? If you give your enemies the opportunity, they will make you suffer for the rest of your days. Consider this your most important lesson.”
“Let him go. Face me like a fucking man.”
“A man?” he sneered. “What do you know about being a man?” His lips twisted into an unpleasant smile. “As soon as your men see that you've failed them once again, they will never accept you as their leader. And we both know what that means.”
Roman had to grind his teeth and lock his knees into place to keep still. His finger twitched on the trigger.
“You either let us leave, or you can shoot both of us. It's your choice.”
“Roman.” Stepan put a hand on his shoulder from behind, keeping his voice low. “Getting you worked up is what he wants. Don't give him the satisfaction.”
His friend was right. Of course, he was.
Knowing that didn't make it any easier to handle with a clear head.
Rolling his shoulders to ease some tension, Roman lowered his gun and turned to face Stepan.
Behind him, a deriding snort was the only clue that Davit mistook his gesture for defeat.
There were two other men in the office, so Roman wasn't worried Davit would try anything while his back was turned to him.
“Get someone outside,” Roman said in a voice so low it was almost a whisper. “We need a distraction.”
Stepan gave a small nod, and Roman could read the approval in his eyes. They were on the same page. Without another word, he left the office to do as instructed .
“Where the fuck is he going?” Davit demanded.
“None of your goddamn business,” Roman told him sharply, turning to give him a disgusted look.
“If he tries anything, Roman...”
“You look scared, Davit. Don't worry, you'll be the first to find out if he does something.”
Coming here, Roman hadn’t expected this particular complication.
Even so, he had done his homework. A paranoid man such as Davit was sure to have padded his lair with the best security one could afford.
A few hours of work revealed the extent of those security details.
Apart from the heavily armed guards outside that were already dead, the house was equipped with an alarm system, a hidden underground escape and bulletproof windows.
The only thing left standing between Roman and the bullet he planned to put into Davit’s skull were those bulletproof windows.
But for that, he’d already formed a plan in his mind, and Stepan was on his way to execute it.
They just needed enough of a distraction outside so they could act from the inside and not get the kid hurt in the process.
“Don't test me,” Davit threatened, though Roman could already see the alarm clouding his narrowed eyes.
“All your trusted men are dead, and soon enough, you will be too.” Roman kept his gun to his side, although his hand was tense, ready to move at any moment. “My father underestimated you, and we can all see where that got him. I don't plan on repeating his mistakes.”
“You think getting cozy with the Italians is a good idea?” Davit’s eyes slid over to Matteo standing in a corner, and his lips turned down as if he tasted something bad. “They claim to live by their code of honor, but they are all a bunch of self-serving brutes.”
“And you're the embodiment of integrity, I'm sure.”
“No, and I never pretended to be something I am not. All these years, Vitaly knew exactly where he stood with me.”
“Until he didn't.”
A dark chuckle resounded from Davit's chest. “You don't know even half the truth of what your father did.”
Roman's gaze slid from the little boy hanging limply in his father's arms to the face he wanted to punch the most in the world. “And you do?”
“I do. If he ever wakes up, and you get to have a conversation with him, just ask him about the real reason he decided to make a pact with Nero Rossetti. His answer might surprise you.”
Roman tried to hide his surprise behind a blank mask. His mind processed the words being thrown at him like daggers and he didn't like where his thoughts were going.
Davit decided to spill more venom. “Your wife being kidnapped by his own men; he knew about it before you did.”
“What is he talking about?” Matteo demanded, his head turning to look at Roman.
Davit went on, his poisonous gaze filled with the thirst for revenge.
“He even sanctioned it, to some degree, after he found out she'd been taken.
They planned to kill her, andItold Vitaly about it.
You don't think anyone could come into my territory without me knowing about it, do you?” He chuckled, and it sounded evil.
“He contacted Boris after we spoke on the phone. You know what they agreed on? The men could rape her, but she had to be left alive.”
“What the fuck is he talking about?” Matteo boomed, his jaw clenched as he took a few menacing steps in Roman’s direction.
Roman felt his stomach clench with anger and the acute feeling of betrayal. It made him physically sick that his own father had stabbed him in the back like that.
“Oh, he doesn't know, does he?” Davit mocked, finally acknowledging that Matteo had spoken. “Your sister was kidnapped and almost raped by Bratva men just a few months ago. But I'll let Roman fill you in on the details.”
“You fucking excuse of a human being,” Roman growled, his hand trembling on the gun he was clutching like a life raft.
Davit’s gaze grew murderous, any trance of taunting gone from his voice.
“You are both just little boys still playing with their dicks in the sand. You will never understand the sacrifice and willpower it takes to be the strongest man in a pack of rabid dogs. Your fathers have more sins than the devil himself. But they have lead their organizations for decades because they were willing to do whatever it took to always land on their feet. A strong leader knows that once you are down on your knees, those rabid dogs will go straight for the jugular.”
Each breath felt like sandpaper on Roman's lungs. He was so furious he could barely see straight.
But then something caught his eye and it cleared the mist obstructing his sense of reason. There was movement outside the window where Dimitri was getting into position to be used as a distraction. Roman's finger tightened on the trigger. Five long seconds passed like an eternity.
His questions would probably remain unanswered, but there was no time to loose.
Not to say that he cared for Davit's version of the truth, but the bastard had managed to plant the seed of doubt right before going down in the flames of Hell. Maybe it was exactly what he wanted, after all.
The sound of bullets hitting the ballistic glass set everything into motion.
Instinctively, Davit's head turned toward the windows, and Roman didn't hesitate to raise his hand and point the gun at him.
There was no time to hesitate, so he took aim and fired, the heavy sound rippling through the quiet office.
A second after the bullet hit its target, Davit’s bulky frame dropped to the floor like a heavyweight, taking his son with him. The child screamed, terrified by the blast and the sudden drop in gravity.
Roman lowered his hand and stepped closer, taking in the blood spilling over the hardwood floor. It was a clean shot, straight through the man’s temple. Davit's eyes were wide open, the shock of the hit still reflected in them as he took his last breath.
Another moment passed before Roman reached down and grabbed the little boy, who quieted as soon as he was lifted from the floor, although hot tears ran down his pale cheeks in rivulets.
Roman steadied him on his feet and lowered himself to his haunches in front of him. “I'm sorry about your dad.”
The boy wiped his tears with the sleeve of his yellow sweater and glanced down at his father lying dead on the floor. Something in his young eyes shifted, and Roman couldn't tell if he was upset or relieved to be rid of the man.
“Roman,” Stepan called from the doorway. “We should get out of here.”
Roman straightened to his full height, his eyes still on the boy. “Go to your room and don't come out until the police arrive.”
The kid hesitated, and Roman had to wonder if he even understood English.
But then he turned around and darted out of the room like he was being chased by a demon.
The police would question him, though nothing he could say mattered.
Both Roman and Nero Rossetti were using their influence with the Chicago PD to make the whole thing go away quietly.
Matteo came to stand beside Roman. “You owe me a goddamn explanation.”
“There's not much else to say. She didn't get hurt, and the men involved are all dead.”
“I'm starting to wonder if my sister really is safe with you. Criticize him all you like, but nothing ever happened to her while she was under my father's protection.”
That did it.
Roman turned to face him and took a step closer, their shoes inches apart.
“Listen here, Matteo. I didn't force your sister into an arranged marriage with the enemy to accommodate my plans.
I love Alessandra and I will do everything in my power to protect her, but the shitstorm that came with this marriage is not something I can control entirely.
I'm doing my fucking best to work with what I have. Can you understand this and get off my back for one motherfucking minute?”
Matteo's jaw flexed, but he averted his eyes. “I'm not going to tell my father about it.”
“You can tell him, for all I care. I'm done walking on eggshells around him. Everyone is accountable for where we are right now, including me and you. So, how about we own up to it and fix this mess so we can get on with our lives.”
???
“Everything is set up,” Stepan announced from the doorway to the kitchen.
Roman lifted his gaze from his phone to meet his friend's tired eyes.
They'd been up all night planning the last hit on the Clan—one that was sure to keep them at bay for a long time.
He felt a tinge of guilt for keeping Stepan away from his wife and infant son, although the man himself didn't seem to mind the tasks Roman saddled him with day after day.
“Good. Make sure everyone gets the message.”
Stepan chuckled. “A bomb is a pretty clear message to anyone with eyes and ears and fucking limbs to loose. After tonight, no Armenian will ever dare to come within ten blocks of you or your family.”
Roman let out a sigh. “I know Davit is dead, but they’re fucking tenacious. Someone new will take over whatever is left of the Clan and start all over.”
“It will take them years to even begin to recover from what you've done to their ranks.”
“That’s what I’m counting on.”
Stepan looked around the kitchen, seeming to contemplate something. “When are you bringing her back?”
“Tomorrow,” Roman said, and despite his tiredness, he felt the buzz of excitement at the prospect of having his wife back home. It had only been a week since she’d left, but it felt like a lifetime had passed.
His phone rang, and he was surprised to see it was the hospital.
“Yes?” he answered, watching as Stepan walked over to the fridge and pulled out a bottle of water.
“Mr. Leskov, this is Dr. Brown. I have some good news for you. As you are aware, your father’s condition has improved significantly over the past few days.
We started reducing the medication that kept him in a coma, and he’s been breathing on his own since last night.
He finally woke up about thirty minutes ago. ”
Roman ran a hand across his jaw in thought. Despite knowing about Vitaly’s progress, he felt neither happy nor upset about the positive outcome. “Did he.”
“He did. Now, we are still keeping our reservations regarding his full recovery, but this is the first step toward achieving the best results possible.” The man paused.
“Unfortunately, because the left hemisphere of his brain was affected, he is unable to speak at the moment, but he is showing clear signs of understanding what is being said to him.”
“Is this something permanent?”
“We don’t know yet. We’ll have to wait and see how his situation progresses.”
“Thank you for letting me know, doctor. I will pay him a visit today.”
“Excellent. A nurse will notify me when you arrive so we can discuss about next steps.”
After ending the call, Roman gave Stepan the news. “Vitaly is awake but unable to speak.”
“Hmm. That’s too bad. He might've had some interesting things to say.”
“I doubt that. He'll never admit to any of the shit he did behind my back, damaged brain or not. But that's fine with me. I'm not interested in his confession.”
His friend smiled. “You're not? After what you told me, I thought you might want to get the truth out of him.”
“The truth is irrelevant at this point. I just want him to know where I stand.”
“And where's that?”
Roman returned the smile. “At the top of his empire that I plan to reform to the fucking core.”