Chapter Forty-three #2
He looks like absolute shit.
They worked him over properly. Bruised face. Cut lip. One eye slightly swollen. He still stands like he owns the place, but his body tells another story.
Alisa stands nearby, arms crossed, clearly annoyed to be breathing the same air as whoever’s locked down here.
Ice is in the back, unmoving, silent. As usual. He looks like furniture. Dangerous furniture.
And then—
Kirill is talking to Ian.
What the fuck?
Andres told me about Ian. About the unknown messages. About how he’d been feeding us information from the inside.
About how he knows he’s my half-brother.
Brother.
The word still sits wrong in my mouth.
I didn’t know how to deal with that. Didn’t know how to bridge months of hatred, suspicion, and blood.
So I ignored him.
Simpler that way.
“Lorenzo,” Kirill says calmly.
Ian turns toward me.
“How are you feeling?” Kirill asks.
“I’m fine,” I answer automatically.
Awkward doesn’t even begin to cover it.
“I need to go,” Ian says. His tone is steady, but I can see the weight behind it. “A word before I leave?”
He looks at me directly, his gaze steady and unflinching, like he’s waiting to see which side of the line I’ll choose.
I hesitate for half a second, the moment stretching tight between us, long enough for doubt to flicker through my mind.
Then I nod. Because whether I like it or not, the line has already been crossed. We’re not strangers anymore.
We step a little farther from the group. Far enough that no one can hear us.
“I don’t expect anything,” Ian says first.
That surprises me. He should. He helped save my life. Helped me find Serena. For a moment, I expect him to stop there, to let that be enough. But he keeps going.
“I’ll be collaborating with Kirill to track the Organization. So you’ll see me around here more often.” He gestures vaguely toward the lower floors. “I don’t want things to be weird between us. You can pretend I don’t exist if that makes it easier.”
I study him for a second.
“Thank you.”
He blinks, caught off guard.
“If it weren’t for you, I don’t know how long it would’ve taken me to find her,” I add. “And you saved my life too.”
He nods once, almost uncomfortable with the acknowledgment, and turns slightly like he’s about to leave.
Not yet.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
He pauses. “Tell you what?”
“That you knew we were related.”
He looks at me, expression calm but sharp. “Why didn’t you?”
Touché.
“You knew before I did,” he adds.
My jaw tightens. For a split second, I remember the last time we stood this close, the tension, the anger. He notices the shift in my face.
“I was drugged most of the time,” he says quietly. “I knew Serena since we were kids. We grew up together.”
Something in my chest tightens. I don’t like hearing that.
“She was like my sister. My actual sister. I never saw her as anything else.” He swallows. “When he told me I had to marry her, I got sick.”
His voice is steady, but there’s regret there.
“That’s why I was high all the time,” he continues. “I couldn’t deal with the thought of marrying her. And I knew my father wanted her. I couldn’t stop him.”
He looks away for a second.
“I had to cope somehow. I was a coward. I didn’t confront him. I just. . . numbed myself. I barely remember those days.”
I exhale slowly.
That explains a lot.
“It’s fine,” I say.
It’s not like I’ve been a model brother either.
“It’s not fine,” he replies immediately. “I’m sorry. For what I did to both of you.”
He runs a hand through his hair, frustrated with himself.
“I never had the courage to tell you I knew. That I wanted a connection with you. That you’re my brother.” His jaw tightens. “So I helped from the shadows. Tried to be there without inserting myself into your life.”
He hesitates, then adds, “When Sofia contacted me. . . she felt like a mother. She talked about you.”
“She made it sound like family wasn’t just blood,” he continues quietly. “And I wanted that. I wanted to be part of something real. I didn’t think I deserved it. So I tried to bring some good into your lives instead.”
For a second, I don’t know what to say. The words sit somewhere in my chest, tangled and useless. So I step forward instead and pull him into a hug.
It’s awkward for half a heartbeat, stiff and uncertain, like neither of us quite knows how this is supposed to work.
Then it isn’t. The tension loosens, the hesitation fades.
Because for fuck’s sake, he is my brother.
And it doesn’t feel wrong. It feels like something that should have happened a long time ago.
When we pull back, I clear my throat. “Come visit your nephew and niece one day.”
He looks genuinely surprised.
So am I.
But I mean it.
He nods slowly. “Yeah. I’d like that.”
He starts to walk away, then I remember something. “Wait.”
He turns. “Yeah?”
“What were you doing with Aurora at that bar?”
He frowns slightly, then shrugs. “I started buying information from her.”
“And?”
“And I ended up protecting her.”
Interesting.
I give him a nod.
He gives one back.
My head turns back to Kirill.
He’s watching me.
“Did some brother bonding?” he asks, a low laugh in his voice.
“How the fuck does everyone know about this?” I ask.
He gives me a knowing smile. “I always knew.”
Now I’m confused.
“And congratulations on becoming Capo,” he continues. “Your father would be proud.”
My jaw tightens.
“How do you know my father?” I ask.
Kirill’s expression shifts. Something softer. Older.
“We were business partners,” he says. “Then we became friends.”
That wasn’t the answer I expected.
“I knew about your father’s bidding,” he continues quietly. “How he paid snipers to eliminate their families if they ever forced you into the role.”
The air leaves my lungs.
What the fuck.
“He told me once,” Kirill goes on, “that if anything ever happened to him, I should have your back.”
I stare at him.
“So it wasn’t a coincidence I ended up in your underground fighting ring,” I say slowly.
“No,” he admits.
“When I heard your father died, I had someone keep an eye on you,” he explains. “And when you got into that car that night, I made sure it drove you to my club.”
I remember that night.
The confusion. The rage. The directionless anger.
“I couldn’t tell you,” he continues. “Your father wanted you to choose your own path. And you would’ve rejected me if you’d known I was guiding you.”
He’s right.
“You were young. Angry. Lost,” he says.
I don’t know what to say.
“But you became a great man, Lorenzo,” Kirill adds. “I saw the fire in you when you were a child. I knew one day you’d surpass your father.”
He pauses.
“He was a great man. May he rest in peace. But you are greater.”
For once, I don’t have a smart reply.
“Thank you,” I say quietly.
I’ve done enough thanking for one day.
“I hope we remain partners, Capo,” Kirill says, respect in his tone.
“Bratva is my family too,” I answer.
He pulls me into a hug, firm, solid, real.
When we separate, I nod toward the lower level.
“Are they here?”
“Yes,” he says. “Both of them.”
And then I see them. Luciano in one cage, chains locked around his legs, his face hollow from exhaustion but his gaze still burning with defiance. Even like this, he refuses to bow.
Lauren stands in the other cage, separated by thick bars and cold steel. Caged. Contained. Her eyes move sharply, watching everything, searching for a way out that does not exist. The air between them is heavy with silence and unfinished violence.
I reach into my pocket and take my phone out.
Me: I’m sorry, love. She didn’t survive the surgery. Lauren died.
Serena replies almost instantly.
My love: She got it easy.
A small smile pulls at my lips.
If I told her the truth, that Lauren would spend the rest of her life down here, that every day would be measured in pain, Serena would eventually try to convince me to release her.
To forgive.
To give her another chance.
But Lauren Beaumont will not get a quick death.
She will not get the mercy her husband received.
She will suffer for what she did to Serena.
“She’s going to hate you,” Lauren calls out from her cage, voice trembling but trying to sound confident. “When she finds out what you really are.”
I don’t even look at her.
“Gag this fucking bitch,” I tell the guard beside her. “The only time I want to hear her voice is when she screams.”
Her face drains of color.
Good.
Then I turn to Luciano.
He’s been here since I became Capo.
And I haven’t forgotten about him.
“What should I do with you?” I ask Luciano, my tone flat. Bored.
He looks anything but bored.
“Use me,” he blurts out. “For information. I can help you. Please, let me live. I’m scared. I can be useful.”
Pathetic.
“Since you’re so scared of death,” I say calmly, “maybe I should just kill you.”
He shakes his head frantically, chains clinking against the metal bars.
Lev steps forward, lifts his gun, and presses it to Luciano’s forehead.
Luciano’s eyes widen.
Lev’s finger tightens on the trigger.
“I know who killed your parents!” Luciano screams.
The room goes still.
Lev doesn’t pull the trigger.
“I know who killed Leonid and Milena,” Luciano continues, breath shaking. “Lev Roman Morozov.”
Lev’s jaw tightens.
“Marry my daughter Aurora,” Luciano rushes on, sensing survival, “and I’ll tell you everything I know. Kill me, and you’ll never find out the truth.”
Silence.
“He’s lying,” I tell Lev immediately.
But Lev’s attention is locked.
“Fine,” he says.
Too quickly.
What the fuck?
Kirill steps forward. “You don’t have to do this.”
Lev doesn’t look at him at first. His eyes remain on Luciano.
“We wanted an official alliance with the Italians,” Lev says evenly. “This could work.” His voice is controlled. Too controlled. “She’s not that bad anyway.”
Bullshit.
I know him. There’s something else here.
Kirill crosses his arms. “Lorenzo is Capo now. We already have an alliance.”
Lev’s head snaps toward me.
Hurt flickers in his eyes, fast, but I see it.
“I’m sorry,” I say. “I didn’t have time to share the news.”
He nods once. “It’s fine.”
It’s not.
“But we still need something official,” he continues. “I’ll marry Aurora.”
His gaze shifts back to Luciano, ice settling in.
“But you’ll rot here,” Lev adds quietly. “And if I find out you lied, I’ll have your precious daughter keeping you company in the next cage.”
Luciano swallows.
Kirill nods slowly. Politically, this works. Strategically, it strengthens both sides.
But I step forward and grab Lev’s arm.
“This is a mistake. Don’t do it.”
He looks at me.
There’s pain there.
He knows what I mean.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he says. “It’s an alliance. We only have arranged marriages in our world. This one is no different.”
“She’ll never forgive you,” I say quietly.
His eyes darken.
“Who the fuck cares?” he snaps.
But he does.
That’s the problem.
He pulls away and walks off.
Well.
That went fucking great.
We spend the next hour discussing business, shipments, territories, numbers, and now a wedding.
A fucking wedding. When it’s finally done, I step outside into the cold night air, the chill cutting through the noise still ringing in my head.
For a moment I just stand there, breathing it in, letting the quiet settle around me. I just want to go home. Home. To my love, who will soon be my wife. To my children. To my dogs. The only place left in this world that still feels like peace.
After everything, blood, betrayal, cages, fire, that’s what matters.
That’s where I belong.