Chapter 21 - Aleksei
The plan is foolproof —at the very least, that's what I keep telling myself as we drive towards the Rossi safehouse. In the back seat of the black armored SUV, I go over the details in my hand. Dimitri and Akim will create a diversion with the men at the front to divert the guards’ attention. Then, Nikolai and I will slip in through the side entrance, neutralize any remaining security, and locate Bianca and Grigor.
I sigh, annoyed at myself that I believed a truce was possible. The Barkovs and the Rossis will always be enemies, at this point, it seems like God himself is hellbent on knocking this fact into my skull. As we speed through the city, the lights blurring outside the windows, I try to savor the brief, fragile alliance we briefly had. For a moment it did seem like peace was possible, that we could put aside years of animosity for something greater. Forgiveness was possible—Lina would have been proud —but the moment we realized that betrayal wasn't ours to own, that fragile peace shattered like glass into countless pieces.
I glance at Nikolai, who sits beside me, his eyes scanning the road ahead with focused intensity. He meets my gaze and nods a silent affirmation. We’re ready. As brothers, together, we’ll always be capable and ready for anything.
By now the Rossi safehouse is in sight, and the tension in the air thickens until it weighs heavy on our tongues.
We approach our destination. I take a deep breath, steeling myself for the imminent confrontation. The strategy is sound. And the execution? Flawless in theory —but theories don't always hold up. I can only hope that this plan will bring Bianca and Grigor back safely. And once they're secure, we'll deal with the aftermath together. As a family.
We arrive at the compound under the cover of darkness. The property is expansive, a sprawling estate, surrounded by high walls and dense trees that create an effective barrier from prying eyes. Not that I expected anything less from Lorenzo. As we approach the main gate, the car’s engine hums softly, barely disturbing the eerie silence of the night. The headlights cut through the darkness, revealing a gravel driveway that stretches far ahead, flanked on each side by manicured lawns and imposing stone statues that stand as silent guards.
From the information we have, the safehouse itself is a large, imposing structure. More a fortress than a home. Its darkened windows and fortified doors speak of security measures that rival our own. Any family involved in our business that doesn't do this risks their eventual demise. Guard towers rise at the corners of the property, each manned by armed sentries whose silhouettes are barely visible against the moonlit sky. I recall the photographs we looked at back at our mansion —the house's exterior is a blend of old-world elegance and modern fortification, with ivy-covered walls and state-of-the-art surveillance cameras everywhere.
As we slow to a stop, Dmitri and Akim exit the vehicle first, moving with practiced stealth towards their positions at the front. Nikolai and I follow, skirting along the perimeter of the estate towards the side entrance. The gravel crunches softly underfoot, and the cool night air carries the faint scent of pine from the surrounding forest.
We pull at the edge of the driveway, hidden in the shadows cast by the towering trees. From this vantage point, I can see the layout of the property more clearly. The front lawn is vast, offering little cover for a direct approach. Instead, we stick to the shadows hugging the side of the building as we make our way to the side entrance.
Nikolai signals to me and we move in unison, our movement synchronized from years of working together. The side entrance is less guarded, but we're not taking any chances. I press against the wall, listening for only signs of movement inside. The door is locked, but with a few deft movements from Nikolai's lock picking set and we’re in.
Inside, the safe house is eerily quiet. The interior is a stark contrast to the fortified exterior; elegant and richly decorated, with rich red hues, plush carpets, and antique furniture. But there's no time to analyze the decor. We move quickly, focused solely on finding Bianca and Grigor. We're in motion, and there is no turning back now.
As we advance further into the safe house. We can all clearly hear the rustling emanating from one of the rooms at the end of the compound. We navigate the labyrinthine halls with practiced ease until we start approaching what I assume to be Lorenzo's office. It’s his voice coming from the room. Dimitri and Akim take point, their guns at the ready as they lead the way. Nikolai and I follow behind, our senses on high alert. The door to Lorenzo's office is cracked open, and the reveal as we get ready to step inside is anticlimactic.
With my nod, Dmitri kicks open the door, the sound of splintering wood echoing throughout the room. We storm inside, our weapons trained on Lorenzo as he sits behind the desk. His expression quickly morphs from one of surprise to that of burning anger as he meets my gaze. He knows why we're here, and he's prepared to fight, but I'm undeterred. He starts demanding answers.
“How dare you come onto my property? You decide to disobey the terms of our truce and now you prance around like everything here belongs to you.” His booming voice echoes.
Lorenzo locks eyes with me again after surveying the men with me, the tension crackling between us like static electricity. His weathered face is edged with anger but also hints of fatigue. I meet his gaze with a mixture of confusion and frustration.
“Where the hell is Bianca?” I echo his own sentiment. “And my brother, too. Where the fuck did you take them. And don’t come at me with our agreement, you were the first to break the terms.”
Lorenzo's nostrils flare with anger, his hands curling into fists at the table. “Don't play games with me.” He snaps, his voice dripping with venom. “I may be old, but I'm not a fool. You've been trying to undermine me for years, and this truce was nothing but a ruse to you.”
My jaw clenches with restrained frustration, mind racing as I try to make sense of what he's saying. I know that Bianca's disappearance has something to do with Grigor—the two of them gone cannot be a coincidence. Hell, we have undisputable evidence of the crime scene. Despite not having concrete proof that it was Lorenzo’s doing, all the signs point to it as the only viable option.
Before I can press the issue further, a sudden realization dawns on me. Say, if there was a possibility—however small —that Lorenzo didn't take them, then who did? And why would Lorenzo be so adamant about denying his involvement? As the pieces slowly begin to fall into place, my anger gives way to utter confusion. What the hell is going on? Where are they, and who took them?
Lorenzo repeats again. “You broke our agreement.” He accuses, his voice little more than a growl. “You pledged to honor the truce, yet here you are, infringing on my territory, pointing a gun at me.”
I meet his glare with a mixture of confusion and frustration. “I had nothing to do with Bianca's disappearance.” I retort, my voice tight. “In fact, I'm here because I'm looking for her. I'm looking for her and my brother.”
He doesn’t try to contain his shout this time. “Don't toy with me!”
Realization begins dawning on his face, too. Have we been duped by a third party? Who could it be beside the man sitting in front of me?
“Sasha.” Lorenzo’s gaze is cast down. He blinks rapidly as if to start making sense of his own suspicions.
The name hangs heavy in the air, a shared understanding settling between us. As we grasp what is going on, our short-lived alliance is irrefutably long gone at this point—that much is for sure. Despite this, the newfound clarity unites us in a common goal; retrieving Bianca and Grigor.
It’s an unspoken agreement that our differences are momentarily set aside. We look at each other for a few seconds, each ascertaining the other’s involvement—or lack thereof—and I begin to talk.
“Where is she now? Where is Sasha? Do you have any information about her whereabouts?” I rapidly fire at him, the three men behind me lowering their weapons. He nods.
“She should be back at our mansion. It's heavily guarded. I told her to stay there with Georgia for their own safety.” If Sasha took Bianca right under our noses, then she’s quite the ballsy character.
“Can you get to her now?” I question, but he responds with a solemn nod.
“No, I can’t get to her now, but it’s not uncommon. She doesn’t enjoy when the dealings of our line of work go… Awry . She has a dedicated team of bodyguards and usually stays off line until after the situation blows over. Seems like that’s her strategy for now, too.”
That’s… cold. For the first time since we met, it makes me takein the man before me in a different light, one where he is no more than a frail aging man with a wife who cares so little for him she’d prefer to stay away in times of danger, regardless if he survives or not.
I don’t have time to ponder that train of thought, so instead, I lean down on his desk and nudging my head towards him.
“So, what now?” I whisper. “If you care for her at all like you claim to, it’s in your best interest too to help us find her.”
He nods hurriedly, adding. “Yes, Barkov, I agree.”