Chapter 42
FORTY-TWO
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you wear a tie before,” I comment, catching the silky fabric between my fingers and giving it a gentle tug. The material is cool and smooth, a sharp contrast to the heat blooming in my chest as I pull him closer. He looks good—too good—like something out of a dark fantasy. The black fabric molds to every hard line of his body, and my throat goes dry just thinking about what we were doing only hours ago.
“Well, don’t get used to it,” he grumbles, but there’s a hint of something softer beneath the roughness—something that makes me want to press my mouth to his just to see if I can coax it out.
I reach up and rake my fingers through his damp hair, the raven strands clinging to my skin as I slide my fingers through them slowly, savoring the small, intimate contact. “Why not?” I ask, letting my voice drop. “I think you look hot,” My lips twitch into a smile as I tilt my head to catch his gaze.
While I’m used to seeing Varo in a suit, today is a special occasion. After six months of training, his twin sister is finally graduating from the NYPD training academy. I wish I could say it gets easier, but she’s a target whether or not she has the Bonanno name behind her. Alvaro knows it. Alanis, too. But I know that Varo will do whatever he can to protect his sister. And if I can help in any way, I will.
He exhales before bringing his arms around me in one smooth motion, anchoring me against his chest. The familiar scent of his cologne—earthy, dark, just a little dangerous—wraps around me, and I let myself lean into it. Into him. I’ve never been the type to seek out shelter in other people. Never trusted anyone enough to even want it. But with Varo, it’s different. His touch doesn’t cage me—it steadies me. Grounds me. With him, I don’t feel like I have to always be looking over my shoulder.
“Keep talking,” he says, his voice gravelly. The sound vibrates against my skin as his fingers ghost up my spine. I shiver, helpless against the rush of sensations that spark beneath his touch.
“You don’t have the time,” I chuckle, my breath catching as I step back reluctantly. “Now go on, or you’ll be late.”
He pauses for a moment, readjusting himself in his slacks before pinning me with a look that’s all heat and danger. Angry Alvaro is sexy as sin, clothed in danger and riddled with intense looks. But sexually frustrated Alvaro, he’s irresistible. He’s catastrophically magnetizing. Like a slow burning fire that consumes you, one devastating touch at a time.
With a soft grunt, he pulls away, his footsteps soundless as he moves through the apartment. “I’ll be back in a few hours,” he tells me as he reaches for the door, pulling it open. “Don’t?—”
Click.
“Don’t move?”
The voice slices through the moment like a razor, calm, familiar, razor-sharp.
My body reacts before my brain fully catches up—heart slamming against my ribs, adrenaline flooding my veins. It makes my stomach twist—not with fear, not exactly. Not with panic, either. But with something heavier.
Apprehension.
Because I know that voice.
And I know what it means.
Varo is quick to the mark, reaching for his gun that’s concealed beneath his jacket.
“I wouldn’t, if I were you.”
My breath snags in my throat as I catch sight of the Glock pressed against Varo’s chest.
“But you’re not,” Varo sneers back. Despite the challenge, he raises his hands and backs away as Vadim and Konstantin enter the apartment. Konstantin’s men follow behind them, crowding us in like a wall.
“What’re you doing here?” I snarl in Russian.
Vadim steps forward, his lip curled in a sinister grin that is all teeth and poison. “I think you know why we’re here, Kyrovsky,” Vadim sneers. “You didn’t think we’d let you get away that easily, did you?”
“I suggest you leave,” Varo bites back, but his words aren’t filled with the same weight they would have if he had a gun in his hand.
“Sit,” Konstantin barks, gesturing to the couches.
Varo glances my way, his stance resolute. Typical Alvaro. He’s stubborn. Unmoving. Always ready to fight. He might not know what happens when you don’t follow the Federov’s orders. But I’ve been on the receiving end of the Federovs’ wrath, and I know better.
I take a seat on the couch closest to me, hoping it’ll keep him alive, while Varo grumbles some shit under his breath.
Vadim shoves him with the barrel of his, forcing Varo towards the couch opposite me. All the while, he’s sending a glare that could tear me from the inside out if I could manage to look at him for more than a second.
“We’re not here for you,” Konstantin tells Varo boredly. “Our business is with Milo.”
“Over my dead body,” Varo murmurs.
Pride flares through my chest, but it’s quickly replaced with a sense of foreboding as the six men surrounding the Federovs shift into a defensive position.
“That can be arranged,” Vadim taunts with a grin that could conjure the devil himself.
The sound of guns clicking echoes around the room. My fists clench as I try to drown out my pounding pulse, but panic slithers through. Every single gun is pointed at Varo first, and I know these men won’t hesitate to pull the trigger.
“Vee,” I whisper, a warning lacing his name.
“Getting Bonanno to protect you,” Vadim derides, pressing his gun to Varo’s temple. “How the mighty Kyrovsky has fallen.”
Alvaro doesn’t react. He doesn’t flick or lash out, he just sits there with his brows scrunched together and his fists bunched, no doubt trying to temper his rage. He’s never been one to allow someone else to fight his battles, so this must be killing him not to fight this out. But he can’t, even if he wanted to. We’re surrounded, and we have no escape plan.
“Don’t hurt him,” I say, voice cracking despite my effort to sound firm. It’s not a command. It’s a plea. The kind that comes from a man with something—someone—to lose.
“You’ve changed, moy mal'chik. You used to be smarter than this.” Konstantin takes a lazy step forward, never taking his eyes off of us. “You used to be sharp. Cold. Now look at you. Soft. Weak. All because of him.”
My eyes shift to Vadim, who is reaching into Varo’s jacket. He pulls out his Glock, the metal shining like a warning. A warning that shit is about to go downhill, real fast.
Konstantin comes to sit beside me on the couch. “That’s what makes this so easy.”
I turn to face him, fear clogging up my airway because I know what he’s going to ask me to do. He learned very quickly that I could survive his torture. Choosing Malakai to deliver the blows was a poor choice, one that he’s probably trying to rectify right now. For me, torture doesn’t come down to my own physical pain. No, Konstantin knows that my morals are still intact. And I’ve just shown my only weakness.
Vadim tosses Alvaro’s gun onto the coffee table between us with a heavy thud. “Pick it up,” he barks.
I don’t move. I can’t. For the longest time, I stare down at the weapon that sits there like a loaded promise. I’m suspended in my own turmoil. With all guns pointed at Varo, anyone with common sense would know not to test the Federovs. I can’t let anything happen to Varo because of me. I brought this to his doorstep, and I can take it away. But this ultimatum comes with a heavy price.
“Cute,” Vadim clicks his tongue. The single word is filled with disgust.
“Do it,” Konstantin commands. “Or we’ll shoot him ourselves. What pain is worth the price of your betrayal?”
The question sits heavily on my chest. My heart feels like it’s about to break out of my ribcage. I can feel my pulse throbbing through every muscle in my body. “Please.” The word comes out as a whisper, but it’s loud enough for Konstantin to hear. “Don’t make me do this.”
“You shoot him,” Vadim orders excitedly. “Or we empty our clips into his skull.”
A chill snakes up my spine, seizing my chest in a tight, suffocating grip. My breath comes out fast and shallow, each inhale like an echo in the dead of silence. The air feels thick, as if the whole world is holding its breath.
“Do it,” Alvaro murmurs, eyes locked on me.
But I shake my head. I can’t do it. No matter how bad this gets, I can’t kill him. I dragged him into this, but I won’t be the one to end it.
“Tick tock,” Vadim goads.
As a last ditch attempt, I turn to Konstantin, but his expression is like ice. Cold and unmovable. I return my focus to Alvaro, the only guy to ever make me forget my own name, and now, the only one I might have to destroy to save us both.
He nods, as if already accepting his fate. I don’t know which hurts more; him welcoming death or the understanding painted across his sharp features.
Fear claws at my insides, twisting my stomach, but the command rings in my ears—shoot, or they will. My hand shakes as I grip the cold steel, the weight of the gun pressing into my palm. Tears sting my eyes because I have no choice. This is where I leave Alvaro; but you can bet I’ll follow him, no matter what,
Taking a deep breath, I steady my focus and aim. But it’s the defiant look in Varo’s dark gaze that is my undoing.
“In this life, and the next,” I mutter.
He nods back, the smallest smile lifting his lips as he closes his eyes.
The heartbreak comes before the shot. The grief, the guilt; it coils around my spine like death’s fist.
My finger moves without thinking. The shot splits the room open, louder than thunder.
Then silence. The kind that doesn’t echo. The kind that means something’s just died.
I drop to the floor, my knees slamming into the tile beneath me. My heart breaks—no, it shatters. It’s not a scream that leaves me—it’s something deeper, raw and broken, torn from a place I didn’t know existed. The kind of sound that doesn’t really form, because it died the moment it hit the air. My hands won’t stop shaking. My chest aches like something's been ripped out, like my ribs are caving in around the hollow space I’ve just created and there’s nothing to replace it.
Nothing to save me now.