Chapter 45
DROGO
We all walk inside together—me, Alena, Marcus, and Lucy—and the house feels both familiar and strange with all of us here after two years of separation.
Marcus keeps looking at me like he's checking to make sure I'm real, and Lucy hasn't stopped crying since she saw me on the walkway.
I pull her in a hug and he punches my stomach.
We all laugh except her. Damn, she was always the sensitive one.
We reach the kitchen, and Alena immediately moves toward the coffee maker. "Okay, I'll make coffee and—"
"No." The word comes out sharp, almost harsh, and she freezes mid-step.
She turns to look at me, confused. "What?"
"What do you have me for?" I cross to her and gently but firmly guide her toward a chair.
"Sit down. I will make it." The audacity of her trying to do something, to get tired, to perform such a human task when I'm right here.
No. Absolutely not. I'll be damned if I let this woman make coffee when I can do it for her.
When I should be doing everything for her.
"Drogo, I can make coffee. It's not—"
"Sit." I point at the chair, and something in my tone makes her sit without further argument. Marcus raises an eyebrow but says nothing, and Lucy just watches with wide, tear-filled eyes.
I move around the kitchen efficiently, filling the coffee maker, getting cups, doing the mundane tasks that feel sacred somehow because they're for her. For them. My family. The people I've been protecting from a distance for two years, and now I can actually take care of them properly.
We all sit around the table once the coffee is ready, steam rising from our cups, and the morning light streams through the windows making everything feel too bright, too exposed. Silence stretches between us—heavy and waiting.
Marcus's eyes land on my collarbones, on the eight-pointed stars—black ink that marks me as something I never wanted to be. His eyes darken because he knows what they mean. He's seen enough crime documentaries, heard enough stories. He looks at Alena, then back at me with a question in his gaze.
I nod. Yes.
He looks at Lucy, then back at me, and nods silently. Understanding passes between us without words—we'll talk later, alone, brother to brother, about the things that can't be said in front of the women we love.
"So, speak!" Lucy demands, her voice sharp with tears she's been holding back. "Two years, Drogo. Two fucking years. Where were you?"
I take a breath and feel Alena's hand slip into mine under the table. The contact is so unexpected, so gentle, that I almost flinch. But then I grip her hand tightly, threading our fingers together, and the support gives me the courage to tell them everything.
"My father called me two years ago," I begin, my thumb stroking circles on the back of Alena's hand.
"The night after our last night together.
He told me he knew where Alena was, what she did every day, where she went, who she talked to.
He had files, photos, schedules—everything.
And the same information he held, for you two. "
Marcus's jaw tightens, and I continue. "He said if I didn't come to New York, if I didn't work for him and do what he wanted, he'd send men to both of you.
" I look at Marcus, then at Alena, feeling her hand squeeze mine tighter.
"So, I went. To New York. Started working for the Bratva—doing jobs, collections, enforcement, whatever Klaus needed. "
I touch the stars on my collarbones with my free hand. "These are how they mark you. Stars. Each one represents a rank, a commitment, blood you've spilled for the brotherhood."
"Jesus Christ," Marcus mutters, running his hand through his hair.
Alena's grip on my hand never wavers, and when I look at her, expecting to see fear or disgust, I see only understanding. She already knows this—I told her last night—but hearing it again in front of Marcus and Lucy seems to make it more real somehow.
"You joined the mafia to protect us?" Lucy asks, her voice breaking.
I look at Marcus first, then at her. "Yes."
Marcus leans forward with his elbows on the table, and I watch something shift in his expression as his eyes move from me to the stars on my collarbones, then to Alena sitting beside me, then finally to Lucy.
When his gaze lands on Lucy—on her tear-stained face, her trembling hands wrapped around her coffee cup—something breaks in him.
I see it happen, see the exact moment he understands on a visceral level what I did and why I did it, because fuck, he loves her the same way I love Alena.
He would do the exact same thing if someone threatened her.
He would burn the world down and dance in the ashes if it meant keeping her safe.
"Okay," Marcus says, his voice steady despite the emotion I can see churning in his eyes. "How do we get the bastard dead?"
The question catches me off guard. "What?"
"Klaus. Your father. The one who threatened them." Marcus gestures at Alena and Lucy. "You're the heir, yeah? You've been working for him, earning his trust, climbing the ranks. Let's make it happen. Let's end this."
"Marcus—" Lucy starts, but he cuts her off.
"No. He's my brother. He did this for us. The least I can do is help him finish it." His eyes lock onto mine with absolute certainty. "I'm in. Whatever you need. However long it takes. I'm in."
My throat tightens. "It's dangerous. Klaus has men everywhere. If he even suspects—"
"I don't care." Marcus's voice is firm. "You didn't abandon us. You were protecting us. And now we protect you. That's what brothers do."
His voice cracks slightly on the last word, and his eyes get wet. Fuck. I'm going to tear up. Alena's hand squeezes mine again, grounding me, keeping me from falling apart completely.
My phone buzzes—loud and insistent—breaking the moment. I pull it out with my free hand, still holding onto Alena with the other. Text from Viktor: Mikhail is talking. Come now.
Damn it. I stand reluctantly, releasing Alena's hand only because I have to. "I have to go." I look at Marcus, holding his gaze. "Stay with them. Keep them safe. The guards will be here, but I need you inside with them."
He nods. "Count on it."
"Drogo—" Alena starts, standing up.
"I'll be back tonight. Stay in the house. Don't try to leave, don't do anything stupid." I'm already moving toward the door where one of my men left a fresh suit last night. Always have clean clothes handy when you're dealing with blood. "Marcus and Lucy can stay as long as they want."
"Stupid?! You're the one running off to—"
I grab the suit and change quickly in the hallway—black shirt, pressed and professional. When I walk back to the kitchen doorway, Alena is standing with her arms crossed, furious and beautiful.
"Oh, and babe," I say, unable to resist smiling despite the tension. "The crew is coming this afternoon. I'm redecorating."
Her eyes go wide. "You're what?!"
"New couch. New dining table. New chairs. All of it." I check my watch. "Should be here around two."
"You can't just—"
"Already done. Paid for. Being delivered." I wink at her. "You'll love the couch. Trust me."
"DROGO!" But I'm already out the door, down the walkway, sliding into the car where Alexei is waiting.
Dodged that bullet. The door slams, and the engine starts.
"Where to, boss?" Alexei asks.
"The warehouse. Mikhail first. Then the docks."
"Understood."
I lean back and pull out my phone, checking the cameras. Alena is standing in the doorway watching the car pull away with Marcus's arm around her shoulders and Lucy beside them both. Safe. Together. Protected. Good.
I switch cameras to check the perimeter—all guards in position, no threats visible. Then my phone rings. Klaus. Of course.
"The accountant is talking," I say before he can speak. "I'm handling it now."
"Good." He sounds satisfied. "And the shipments?"
"This afternoon. All three. On schedule."
"Excellent. You've been very reliable, Drogo." There's a pause, and I can hear the pride in his voice when he continues. "I'm proud of you. You've become exactly what I knew you could be."
My jaw tightens. "Anything else?"
"No. That's all. For now." He hangs up.
I stare at the phone in my hand. Exactly what I knew you could be. A monster. A killer. His perfect weapon. But not for much longer. Soon, Klaus. Very soon.
I pocket the phone and close my eyes. Behind my lids, I see Alena's face when I told her the truth last night—the fear, the understanding, the acceptance.
She'll stand by me through this. She has to.
Because I didn't do any of this for Klaus or the Bratva or the money. I did it for her. Always for her.
"Boss?" Alexei's voice breaks through my thoughts. "We're here."
I open my eyes, and the warehouse looms ahead—dark and ominous against the morning sky. Time to work. Time to be the monster they made me. Just a little while longer.