3. Maxim
THREE
MAXIM
S tepping back from the desk, a twisted grin pulls at my lips as I take in the masterpiece before me. Donny Antoneli, heir to Marco Antoneli’s empire and brother to dear Elana, has his head crammed inside a garish green gift box tied up with a pristine red bow. It’s almost festive, in a macabre sort of way.
The pièce de résistance? A love note stapled neatly to his forehead, the crimson ink bleeding into his skin. Inside the note lies the first clue—a breadcrumb for Marco to find his son’s severed arm. Should he succeed, there’s another clue waiting to lead him to the next piece. It’s a scavenger hunt, really. A family bonding exercise.
I chuckle softly, the sound reverberating through the room. Marco has always loved his games, but this time, I’m the one holding all the cards.
When he finds the last piece, it’ll be crammed into the mouth of his bound and gagged wife. She’s still alive—barely. She’s unconscious, hidden in his closet, waiting for the grand finale. I may be a twisted bastard, but killing women? That’s not my game, unlike Marco and his vile excuse of a son, who treat women like disposable trash.
Andrei and I will never forget what Marco tried to do—selling off his own daughter, Elena, to some lowlife scumbag, a man infamous for breaking the women he “owned.” The thought of it still makes my blood boil. They had no qualms about throwing her life away, about stripping her humanity for a profit.
A chuckle escapes me as I recall Donny’s screams while I cut through his limbs. Oh, the satisfaction I felt with each chop of the ax, the sharp blade severing bone with ease.
Andrei’s footsteps echo in the silence, and I flick my eyes toward him. He’s watching me, his brow furrowed, his gaze heavy with concern. A few days ago, he told me he was worried about me—that he’s seen a darkness in my eyes, one he’s never seen before. And he’s right. Something inside me broke the moment I saw Sophia lying in that hospital bed.
It wasn’t just rage that snapped; it was something deeper, something primal, a need so consuming, it has become my only focus. Finding the bastard who did this to her isn’t just a mission—it’s an obsession, burning through me day and night. It’s the only thing that makes the helplessness bearable, the only thing that gives me purpose when everything else feels hollow.
Andrei doesn’t say anything as he stops beside me. He doesn’t have to. The worry in his eyes says enough. But I can’t afford to care about that right now, not until this is over.
Sophia hasn’t woken up yet. It has been almost three weeks since Luca found her. Turns out, Luca wasn’t lying. I saw the footage of that bastard shoot her twice, get close enough to pick her up, but run when he heard Luca screaming for her. My men have been hunting the piece of shit, but he’s gone deep underground.
I couldn’t just wait around for answers. The restlessness gnawed at me. So, I took matters into my own hands.
Luca overheard his men talking about a job to kidnap a Russian boss’ girl. That’s how he found Sophia. But Luca didn’t get the information we needed—just the location where she was held. He’s not trained in interrogation like I am. My father was a sick and twisted man who found pleasure in corrupting me from a young age. I learned early how easy it was for a hot knife to cut through skin. By the time I was seven, I stained my hands red as I tortured my father’s enemies to get the information we needed.
From the moment I stepped into my father’s world, I craved his approval, even as I despised him. By ten, I had surpassed him, trading my moral compass for the rush—the screams, the power. Andrei thinks I’ve lost my mind, but the truth is, I’ve always been this way. I kept him safe, shielded from our father’s darkness while I embraced it completely.
“Are we done here?” Andrei asks, pulling me from my thoughts. He takes his phone from his pocket. “Marco’s on his way. The man we have tailing him just sent me an update.”
The urge to wait for Marco and end him right here, right now, battles with the rational part of me that knows it’s too soon. This is a game of patience—something I’m not used to—but it’ll be worth it. He will make a mistake and lead him to the person pulling his strings.
It took hours of interrogation and a trail of bodies before someone finally cracked. When they did, they gave me a lead straight to Marco Antonelli. According to them, Marco had contacted him, looking for names of men willing to take on a job like this. But something doesn’t add up. Marco doesn’t have the resources to fund an operation like this. He’s not smart enough to pull off a kidnapping, let alone plan one. It feels like someone else is pulling the strings.
Then there’s Donny, Marco’s pathetic excuse for a son. He was a dead end, completely in the dark about his father’s moves. All he could tell me was Marco had been acting off—more paranoid than usual. He described his father as jumpy, like a man with a noose tightening around his neck. Marco kept muttering about moles and betrayal, moving like a ghost through the shadows of his own paranoia. But as for why or what had him so on edge? Donny had no answers, just the ramblings of a desperate, unraveling man.
Something doesn’t add up, and it’s eating at me.
Luca overhearing his most trusted soldiers talk about the kidnapping has my stomach in knots. It feels like part of a larger plan, a set-up. Whoever’s behind this knows us, knows Luca and me, on a deep level. They understand our weaknesses. I slam my palms on the desk, frustration boiling over.
“Who the fuck took Sophia, and what the fuck do they want?”
Andrei jumps, nearly tripping over his feet. “What the hell, Maxim?”
I roll my eyes, irritated by his surprise. He should always be alert—one day, I might not be here to watch his back.
No matter what it takes, I’ll get to the bottom of this. Whoever is behind this will regret the day they crossed me, made this personal. They’ve fucked with the wrong person. They’ve fucked with what’s mine.
“I knew I’d find you here,” Luca says as he enters the room.
I don’t acknowledge him, my eyes still fixed on Sophia’s pale body. I only leave her side when I’m dealing with business. Otherwise, I’m here, staring at her, praying to a god I don’t believe in, begging for her to return to me. I need to see those deep, chocolate eyes burning with fire again—the fire that used to blaze brighter than the sun.
Luca stands on the other side of the bed. “What information did you get?” The fact that he asks what information, not if I got any, doesn’t go unnoticed.
“Someone has a lot of faith in me,” I reply, my voice tight, my teeth gritted. I’m not in the mood for small talk. But it’s a conversation that needs to happen. He wasn’t here when I arrived, and I’m grateful for that. I needed a chance to process the small bits of information I managed to gather today.
“Faith is a strong word, Maxim. I’d say I’m confident you’ll stop at nothing to get the information you’re after.” He’s not wrong.
With a sigh, I finally lifted my head to meet his gaze. “Someone’s hiding in the shadows, pulling the strings. Donny didn’t know who it was. I’m hoping the gift I left Marco will push him to make a mistake. I need his anger to cloud his judgment.” I pause, eyeing Luca’s reaction. “I’ve bugged his phone and have three men tailing him. No room for mistakes. If any of my men lose him, two others will take over. Marco will lead me to the puppet master. I can feel it.”
“That makes more sense than the whole thing being orchestrated by a dumbass like Marco.” Luca walks over to the couch, pulls out his phone, and sits down.
Before he can bury himself in his screen, I speak, my tone turning accusatory. “There’s something that’s been bothering me all day.”
Luca raises an eyebrow, his eyes sharp. “What’s that?”
“You said you overheard your men talking about someone paying a lot of money.” I don’t miss the subtle tension in his posture. He nods, eyebrows furrowed, waiting for me to continue.
“Where exactly did you hear that?” I ask.
He stares at me, blinking a few times, clearly confused by the direction of my questioning. He leans forward, deep in thought. “In the security room. Why?”
“Where is your security room?”
He answers without hesitation. “Second floor of my New York home.” Then, he narrows his eyes, clearly annoyed. “What the hell are you getting at, Maxim?”
I close my eyes, taking a slow, steady breath, trying to mask my growing frustration. How is he still alive if he’s this fucking stupid?
I let the silence stretch out before continuing. I could tell him outright, but I’m not making it easy on him. “Do you pass by the security room often?” I glare at him, silently pleading for him to use his brain. How is this man still in charge of a mafia empire if he’s this dense?
It takes a moment, but then I see it—the flash of recognition in his eyes. He stands abruptly, flustered, pacing the room. “Fucking shit. They played me.”
“Like a fucking fiddle,” I mutter, a smirk tugging at my lips. It has been a while since I found something amusing.
“I walk past that room every time I go to my office. Whoever’s behind this knows that.” His frustration is palpable, and I can see the wheels turning in his mind. This plan has been in motion for some time.
Luca and I share a mutual enemy now, but the question remains—why was Sophia dragged into this mess? She hasn’t been a part of my life for months, and in the time since we’ve crossed paths again, she has been in a coma for three weeks and kidnapped for a week.
Sophia is the thread that ties Luca and me together. She’s the only reason we’re working together. But why does the puppet master want Luca in Miami? What does he stand to gain?
“We need to keep things close, Luca. We have a mole in both of our ranks. And it can’t be the same person. That makes the puppet master even more dangerous. He’s smart, playing us like chess pieces.”
Before Luca can respond, the soft ruffling of sheets grabs my attention. I freeze, my heart leaping in my chest as I look toward the bed.
Sophia’s eyes are fluttering open.
For the first time in weeks, I might get the chance to see those eyes—the ones I’ve been desperate to see again. My heart races so fast, I think it might tear out of my chest. I breathe a silent thanks to whoever might be listening.
“Sophia?” I whisper her name, my voice barely audible, not wanting to scare her.
Her eyes snap open at the sound of my voice, and my stomach plummets.
I stumble back, my breath caught in my throat. This isn’t what I was expecting. I knew things wouldn’t be the same. I thought she’d be angry, but where’s the love—the spark that made my heart race every time she looked at me? Where’s the fire in her eyes that used to shine so brightly?
All I see now is emptiness.