Chapter 37 #2
The reason for all this. Chloe’s kidnapping, the warehouse fire, Gio’s death. She spent the entire drive up chipping those diamonds out of the resin.
“Report.” Roman returns to the man I recognize. Clipped, authoritative, brooking no argument.
I lay out everything that happened with the Falcones, from the warehouse where I first found Chloe to Gio’s final moments under the collapsing building. I tell him about essentially starting a mafia war, the very thing he warned against in our last meeting.
About finding a witness from Isla de Huesos who’s now under our protection. About the diamonds hidden in the vintage globe bar that Chloe received last year.
“She saw it all. The chaos on the island. The storm. The fire. The deaths. She was nine years old, hiding under a porch while the world burned around her.”
A charged silence descends over the room. The men exchange glances, and a current of unease flows among them. For Roman and Igor, the reaction is more visceral, a stiffening of shoulders, a tightening around the eyes. The mention of the island has set them on edge.
The others—Alexei, Kirill, Vanya, Max—know little about what happened there. None of us were present for the infamous summit fifteen years ago.
The event occurred before our time, before anyone trusted us with the upper echelons of Bratva business, and we’ve always obeyed the unspoken rule.
Don’t talk about the island or ask questions.
We all understand the basics. Roman called a meeting of mafia families that ended in bloodshed and tragedy. His wife Lilia and nine-year-old daughter Anika died. But the details have remained shrouded in silence and secrecy.
Now, pressed by the unexpected connection to Chloe, Roman’s control slips. Just a fraction.
Just enough.
“It was supposed to be a new beginning. A meeting of all families to establish new territories, new alliances. I chose the island for its neutrality and privacy.” His thick fingers trace an invisible pattern on the table.
“The tropical storm changed course suddenly. It wasn’t expected. Neither were the fires.”
Alexei’s coin stills between his fingers. “Fires. Plural?”
Roman nods, staring at nothing. “At the Alibi Club first. The main restaurant and bar on the resort property. Then the cottages. One after another, like dominoes. The wind from the storm spread it faster than anyone could control.”
“Some said it was arson.” Igor’s shoulders shift under his tailored suit, his large hands clasped together at his waist. “Others blamed faulty wiring in the old buildings. We never knew for certain.”
“And in the chaos,” Roman gets quieter with every word, “people died. People disappeared. The survivors fled on whatever boats the storm hadn’t destroyed.”
“And Lilia and Anika?” Vanya’s usual flippancy is absent.
We all tense. Those names are not to be mentioned in front of the Pakhan.
Roman’s face shutters, masking the pain. “Caught in the fire at the Alibi Club. Their bodies were never recovered.”
The room falls silent again. I note the strain in Roman’s jaw and the slight tremor in his usually steady hands. This is more than he’s ever shared about that night. More than most of us have heard.
“While we lost loved ones who can never be replaced, I was able to recover something.”
I pull open the bag. The diamonds catch the light, throwing prisms across the wood-paneled walls.
With a trembling hand, Roman gathers up a handful of diamonds and lets them cascade through his fingers. Igor nudges his shoulder and passes him a jeweler’s loupe without being asked.
Silence ensues as Roman inspects a handful of diamonds one by one.
“These are…” He swallows and starts again. “These are the same diamonds I lost on the island.”
Kirill hunches forward. “What do you mean, ‘the same’?”
Roman’s fingers close around the stones, knuckles whitening.
“These exact diamonds. I’d know them anywhere.
The cut, the clarity… With no serial numbers.
Making them perfect untraceable currency.
” He glances up with fierce intensity. “At the summit, I received these as payment from the Gambino family. But then the fires started, the storm hit, and everything went to hell.”
“And now they show up in the possession of a witness from that night?” Vanya connects the dots aloud. “That’s one hell of a coincidence.”
“Chloe said the globe bar they were hidden in came with an anonymous note, supposedly from a parent who wanted to give their kid’s teacher a nice gift for her classroom.” I hold Roman’s gaze as I describe the globe bar, the broken latch, the wire, and how we managed to open it.
“Someone is fucking with me. Dredging up the past, using these diamonds as a message.” Roman’s fury fades to confusion. “There’s something here.”
I nod. “We found more than the gems in the resin block. I told Chloe to put everything in the bag. We came right here after finding it, so we didn’t have time to really check it out.”
Roman upends the bag, revealing a small note folded around an object. He carefully unfolds the paper.
Inside is a tarnished, old-fashioned hotel room key. The metal is corroded from water damage, but the tag attached by a brittle string is still legible. On one side of the tag, written in neat handwriting, is the name, Alistair Thorne.
On the reverse side, scrawled in a different, more urgent hand, it says, Insurance and Safety-237.
In our world, “insurance” refers to an evidence package. Documents, recordings, photographs that can burn your enemies if released. The file you prepare to protect yourself, to be released in the event of your death.
Insurance against betrayal.
Max grimaces at Igor. “Safety-237?”
“Safety deposit box, maybe. Or perhaps a safe in Room 237 at the Alibi Club. Alistair Thorne.” Igor hovers over Roman’s shoulder to read the name again. “Bozhe moy.”
“You know him?” Tension threads through Alexei’s voice.
Roman nods, his stiff neck barely bending. “An investigative journalist. He specialized in mafia crimes. Our crimes, specifically. He was on the island because he was tracking rumors about the summit. Along with so many others, he died on the island.”
“We assumed.” Igor crosses his arms over his chest. “His body was never found, just like…” he stops himself “…so many of the others who died in the fires.”
They assumed Alistair was dead. I assume Gio is dead. Will these assumptions rise from the grave to stab us in the back?
Alexei pulls out his phone, fingers flying across the screen. “Alistair Thorne. Died, presumably, on Isla de Huesos fifteen years ago. Survived by a daughter, Jordan Thorne, now twenty-five.” He looks up. “She’s a content creator living in Chicago.”
The pieces fall into place with terrible clarity.
The diamonds. The key. The message.
Someone’s threatening to expose what really happened on that island fifteen years ago.
The muscles in Roman’s jaw bunch. He holds up the note to reveal a single handwritten line that reads, It’s only the beginning.
We all exchange glances.
Someone has been waiting fifteen years to send this message and the diamonds.
Why?
Roman’s face hardens into the mask I know so well. The Pakhan, the leader, the man who built an empire on blood and fear. “We need to find what this key goes to. Learn what Allistair Thorne knew.”
He shifts to me, his eyes cold and calculating. “As for you, Kolya, your mission has changed. Now that you secured the diamonds, you need to protect Chloe Davidson. I get the feeling that was already your intention.”
I say nothing. There’s no point in confirming what he already knows.
“You will keep her close. She’s your personal project now. Others might come for her. Perhaps the same person who’s fucking with us. When they do, you’ll be waiting.”
My new mission. Become Chloe’s constant shadow and protector.
Her official jailer in the eyes of the Bratva. Her lover and defender in reality.
The assignment aligns perfectly with my desire to keep her safe and with me.
“Understood.”
Igor turns to Roman, the gray in his hair glinting in the light. “We need to find the next piece of this puzzle. Thorne’s daughter may know what happened. We should start surveillance and make contact.”
“I can do it!” Sasha throws up his hand, flinching as he pulls whatever is causing him so much pain.
Igor opens his mouth and then snaps it shut.
Roman chops his hand through the air. “No.”
Max steps forward at the same time. “You’re not ready for such a complex job.”
Sasha wilts, his eyes darting to his father.
Igor scowls and shakes his head. “Listen to your Pakhan, boy. I’m sorry, but they’re right. You still need to heal. This might seem like a simple job, but so did finding Chloe and the diamonds. And look how that panned out.”
“We need someone who knows how to handle things and can make snap decisions.” Roman examines the five of us before zeroing in on Kirill. “We need a shark.”
The Shark. A nickname Kirill earned courtesy of his ability to always track his prey, no matter how much blood contaminates the water.
Roman drops the key into his hand. “Find Jordan Thorne and learn what she knows, by any means necessary.”
Watching the detached way Kirill inspects the key, I almost feel sorry for the woman. Next to him, I’m warm and fuzzy. In fact, most of us are a bundle of delight by comparison.
Our Pakhan waves us away. “Go. You all have your jobs to do.” He settles back in his chair, all signs of the trauma he spoke of erased from his face.
My job.
I think of Chloe, who’s upstairs waiting for me.
Chloe, who withheld information under torture to protect diamonds that weren’t hers.
Chloe, who saw the monster in me and chose to stay anyway.
For the first time in my life, I have something that’s mine. A woman worth protecting not because Roman ordered it, but because I need to.
Need her.
The realization doesn’t weaken me as I once would’ve feared.
It strengthens me and gives me purpose beyond following orders.
Whatever threats hover on the horizon—whatever secrets lie buried on that island—we’ll face them together.
Me and the kindergarten teacher who stole the heart I didn’t know I had.
The monster and the teacher.