Chapter 41
Chapter
Forty-One
Katya
The entire car ride to Mastodon headquarters, I’m a nervous wreck. Between the abduction, the explosion, half the world’s supply of Majesty disappearing in seconds, and Dimitri—being so close to him and not being able to be with him—it’s too much.
And yet, my mind keeps circling a knotted puzzle. The answer is there, but something keeps it just out of reach.
It’s only Marshal, Declan, and me in the car. A palpable tension hangs in the air along with the smell of cologne. Declan stares forward, his eyes unfocused as he watches the road from the front passenger seat. Of course I’m in the back.
Marshall keeps barking orders until I snap, “This isn’t your show anymore. It’s Alana’s.” He stops talking and grumbles. I’m right. When we walk into Mastodon’s lobby, Alana is commanding the room, perched at the center of it all.
And, yeah, her dress is super cute—a ruffled top, corset back, and flowy skirt. I know because I’ve seen it constantly in ads. I’ve just never pushed the buy button. Of course, mine probably wouldn’t come with bloodstains. At least, I hope not.
Donny is a mess, curled up in a ball against the wall. Isn’t he the Mob boss’s son? Shouldn’t this be a typical Saturday afternoon for him?
Dimitri and the rest of the men aren’t in the lobby long before they disappear into the back to find the kids, leaving the moms, sisters, agents, Alana, and Donny in the space.
Marshall strides to the desk with Declan close behind. “You must be Alana King.”
He extends a hand, but Alana just glares at it until he awkwardly pulls it back.
“Um, thank you for your help, but we’ll take it from here.”
The tiny redhead beside Alana laughs. And then Izzy Marciano, a woman who really likes cake at weddings, steps past Marshall to stand beside Alana. She doesn’t say a word, but the message is clear: Marshall is not in control.
Alana picks up her phone, presses a button, and it starts ringing. She’s like a millennial demigod.
Ring.
Ring.
“Hello?” It’s a man on the other end, and though I don’t know who, the voice is familiar.
Alana’s tone is cold and icy. “Three rings?”
“I had to get to a secure location,” the man hisses.
“I still have immunity.” It’s not a question. It’s a statement. “Two years ago, I sat in the Situation Room and told you Majesty was a problem, and if it wasn’t dealt with, I’d have to step in. And if it crossed into my world, fire would rain down. Do you remember that?”
Marshall swallows hard, catching my eye and mouthing, “Situation Room?”
And that’s when it hits me—she’s on the phone with the President’s Chief of Staff.
Holy shit.
“I remember,” the man stammers.
“Excellent. An hour and a half ago, The Deviant abducted my kids.” Her voice is calm but menacing. “They’re back in my custody. I assume you’ve been briefed on the purple smoke plume?”
“Fuck,” Clemmons whispers.
“Your task force spent three years and thousands of man-hours trying to fix what I handled in less than an hour. That inefficiency is either gross incompetence or corruption, and neither are acceptable. This will have consequences felt around the world. In the next few minutes, two bodies will drop. Maybe three, depending on what Ian says.”
The room freezes. No one even breathes. She just admitted to murder in front of a presidential cabinet member.
“You fucking little bitch,” he hisses. “I won’t be threatened by a cunt who got lucky a few times.”
Donny lets out a panicked, confused bellow. “Why?” He mutters, “It’s gonna be so much worse now.”
But Alana is unfazed. “In forty minutes, the press will be announcing your resignation.” She hangs up.
Penny hands a folder to Marshall, and Alana explains, “These are the arrest warrants you’ll need. Congratulations. This is the biggest collar of your career.”
“These aren’t legal and won’t be admissible in court,” Marshall protests.
Penny smirks. “They’re legal enough.”
The front door flings open, and three middle-aged men stomp in. I recognize them instantly as the heads of the Four Families. Oh shit. Alana seems underwhelmed by this as she rolls her eyes and walks toward the door Dimitri and the others went through earlier.
Giovanni Marciano, the head of the Italian mafia, appears like a raging bull, but stops when he sees his son on the ground. “What the hell happened?”
Donny raises his head from his knees, which have been firmly pressed against his chest. “It’s bad.” His voice quivers, and his eyes are red. He’s been crying.
Carlos Ramos, the head of the Mexican cartel, kneels next to Donny. “Are the kids all right?”
Donny nods. “I think so. Ian’s a little hurt.”
Giovanni repeats his question. “What happened?”
Donny whimpers as he rubs his eyes with the heels of his hands. “It’s a delicate ecosystem, and she nuked it with napalm and scorched the earth, and nothing will grow… LITERALLY!”
The two older men look at each other, their mouths hanging open like they’re about to speak, when Donny cuts them off. “She burned fifty percent of the world’s Majesty stock. Poof, gone. Supply and demand, Dad. She’s started a worldwide drug war, and we’re her biggest allies. The Four Families are going to have neon targets on our backs that can be seen from space.” He wipes his nose with his sleeve. “We’re all going to die.”
Penny calls from the table, “Oh, he’s being so emotional.”
Donny points to the women. “Look who Alana recruited—Penny Olympian and,” he whispers like it’s a scandalous confession, “Waverly.”
Oh, that’s Waverly McLeod. I didn’t connect her with the rest of this group, but I guess it makes sense.
Waverly grins. “He should calm down and smile more.”
But Donny puts his head back on his knees. “And Alana was supposed to go on a date, but that got all fucked up. Her pretty dress is ruined, and the Chief of Staff called her a bitch.”
Carlos rubs his temples. “Why would he do that?”
“I don’t know,” Donny says, his distress growing with every word. “But I think she’s going to blow up the White House now.” He's in a full on whine merging into a wail.
“You’re being so irrational,” Izzy mocks.
Donny whimpers, “I’m having a panic attack.”
His father slides to the floor next to him and puts his arm around him. “I know. I’m going to sit here until you feel better.”
“I’ll join you.” Carlos also sits. “My stupid knees won’t let me up again, but the tiles feel so nice and cool.”
Only Andrey Koslov remains standing. “Where is my son?”
Waverly pushes herself away from the desk and stands. “He’s in the basement. I’ll bring you to him.” The tiny redhead trains her attention on me. “Alana said you might want to interrogate The Spider.”
What? The Spider? Seriously? I almost jump out of my skin for the chance to get in a room alone with him. Waverly motions for me to follow her, leaving Declan and Marshall standing in the lobby, powerless and useless. And neither one of them likes the situation.
Declan follows, but Izzy steps forward. “Alana said for her to interrogate, not you.” She points to where her brother and father sit. “May I suggest the floor?” She raises an eyebrow. “Your inability to find and save my son means I’m in no hurry to make you feel more comfortable.”
Damn, the power of these women.
Waverly and Andrey stand in the elevator with me as she pushes the basement button, but the elevator only moves when she swipes a keycard. Once the doors open, two male voices echo down the hall.
“Stop touching it, you’re going to get it infected. I didn’t save you just to watch a repeat of the first time.”
“Yeah, you keep saving my ass. It’s because I’m so cute.”
“My opinion about your ass has nothing to do with why I keep saving it.”
Markus!
I push past Waverly and hurry toward the voice. Markus. He’s alive! Safe! Wait, did he rescue Uri while Alana rescued the kids? I guess they would have to divide and conquer to get everyone out.
My former partner seems good—strong and happy. He blinks a few times like he’s trying to remember me, but when the recognition hits, he smiles. Then it fades. His eyes drift behind me to Uri’s father. Markus pats Uri on the shoulder and motions he’ll be in a different room. Later. I need to catch up with him later. Without prying eyes and listening ears.
Uri jumps up and yells, “Holy shit! Katya!” He limps toward me and throws his uninjured arm around my shoulder. His other arm is in a sling, and his face is swollen, but he’s alive, and that’s all that matters. “Girl, we have to catch up!”
“Absolutely, but I’m kinda working right now. You know, dismantling a drug cartel and all that.”
He presses his forehead against mine. “Dimitri is going to be thrilled.”
I whisper back, “So am I.”
He pulls back and his nose crinkles. “You smell like you’ve been in a car with a bunch of old men.”
“How else do you think I got here?” But my joke doesn’t land. Instead, I’m pushed to the side by Uri’s father.
Visually, they’re similar—same build, same icy blue eyes, even their jawlines are mirror images. But where Uri wears his heart on his sleeve, and is warm and friendly, Uri’s father is stiff and cold, hard to read.
He gives his son an appraising once-over before throwing his arms around him and nearly collapsing against Uri. “I thought I lost you again.”
“I’m fine.” Uri’s voice catches.
“I will destroy whoever hurt you.”
Waverly pushes past him. “No amount of performative concern will fix the years of damage you did.” As she leads me toward the next door, she adds, “Besides, Alana has it covered.”
She pushes open the door and turns to me. “May I introduce, The Spider.”