12. Maxim
CHAPTER TWELVE
maxim
The door slammed against the wall as I stormed into Conall’s apartment, my stride eating up the distance to the main sitting room. A decorative vase wobbled dangerously on its pedestal from the force of my arrival, but I didn’t care. My focus was singular, my anger hot and unrelenting.
Conall looked up from where he sat perched on the edge of an armchair. His face tightened at the sight of me. “Maxim.”
“Why the hell am I hearing about this from my contacts?” I snapped, my voice sharp enough to cut steel. “A shooting on the streets where your sister was wandering around? And no one thought to inform me?”
Before Conall could answer, Cora appeared in the hallway, a bundle of towels cradled in her arms. She looked exhausted, her hair tied back in a messy bun, and streaks of something dark were on her sleeve. She still looked like an angel. My anger softened just slightly, replaced by a deeper, more primal emotion: worry.Today, she wore a t-shirt that said, ‘ The First Rule of Zombieland: Cardio .’
“Maxim,” she said softly, stepping forward.
I turned to her, my brow furrowing. The storm raging inside me shifted focus entirely. In two long strides, I was in front of her, my hands grasping her shoulders.I struggled to beat back the sticky feeling of anxiety that was strangling my heart — the worry that had blanketed me at the thought that she’d been hurt—the irrational fury.
“You’re okay?” I asked, my voice lowering as my eyes searched hers for confirmation.
“I’m fine,” she said firmly, her tone calm and steady. “It wasn’t as close as you’re imagining. Finn got me out before?—”
“You shouldn’t have been out at all,” I interrupted, my grip tightening but careful not to hurt her. My eyes scanned her again, looking for injuries I prayed I wouldn’t find. “You should have been here. Somewhere safe.”
“I can’t live in a bubble.” Her lips pressed into a thin line, but instead of arguing, she rested her hand against my chest. “I’m fine,” she repeated, her voice softening. “Really.”
My forehead nearly touched hers for a moment, and I exhaled deeply, letting some of the tension bleed out. My hand cradled her cheek, my thumb brushing gently against her skin. “You could have been hurt, zayka,” I murmured.
A faint smile curved her lips. “But I wasn’t.”
The moment hung between us, fragile but grounding until a small sound—a high-pitched squeak—shattered the quiet.
I froze, my hand dropping as my eyes shifted to the bundle in her arms. “What is that?” I asked warily. My voice edged with suspicion.
Cora lifted the towels slightly, revealing the ugliest kitten I had ever seen. Its pale grayish-white fur was alarmingly small. Its eyes were narrowed at me as it let out a little hiss.
“It’s a kitten,” she said as if I should have already known.“I think he likes you.”
I took a step back, frowning deeply. “Why is it in here?”
She raised an eyebrow. “Because I wasn’t going to leave it to die on the street. What kind of monster do you think I am?”
“A practical one,” I muttered, staring at the tiny creature as though it might spring out of her arms and attack. “That thing is… fragile. And unpredictable.”
“It’s a kitten, not a grenade,” she said, her eyes sparkling with laughter.
Conall, who had been watching the exchange from his chair with a smug grin, leaned back casually. “He’s afraid of cats,” he said, his tone filled with mockery.
I glared at him. “I am not afraid. I just don’t… trust them. They carry diseases.”
Cora laughed softly, the sound tugging at something in my chest despite myself. She adjusted the kitten, cradling it closer to her chest. “Well, you’ll have to get over it because this one needs my help. I’m keeping it.”
Fuck. I hated cats. I eyed the little beast. Was it missing an ear? It also looked like it had a patch of fur missing.
I stayed at a distance, my arms crossed tightly over my chest. “You’re really keeping it?”
Cora didn’t even look up, her focus entirely on the kitten. “Of course I am. It needs me.”
I exhaled sharply, muttering under my breath in Russian. “You already have me worried about you constantly. Now I have to worry about this… thing?”
She glanced up then, her eyes sparkling with amusement. “You don’t have to worry about the kitten, Maxim. Just let me handle it. And yes — I’m keeping it. This kitten and I are a package deal.”
My jaw tightened, but I didn’t argue. Instead, I stalked to the far end of the room, putting as much distance as possible between myself and the kitten and Conall’s irritatingly smug grin.
“You’re lucky she’s so soft on you,” Conall said, his voice thick with amusement.
I shot him a dark look. “And you’re lucky I don’t throw you out the window for not telling me about the shooting.”
Cora’s quiet laughter filled the room, and despite myself, the sound eased some of the tension coiling in my chest. Still, I kept my distance from the kitten. I could handle shootouts and rival factions. I’d even handle zombies or betrayal—but kittens? That was pushing it.
I turned my attention back to Conall, though the tiny bundle in Cora’s arms was still in my peripheral vision, a soft distraction I didn’t need. “Tell me everything,” I demanded, my voice like ice. “Who fired the shots, and what the hell were they doing so close to her?”
Conall’s smirk disappeared as he straightened, brushing invisible dust from his shirt. “We’re still working on it. It wasn’t random, though. Too precise. A drive-by on Vinegar Hill doesn’t happen without intent.”
“That’s not good enough,” I snapped, stepping closer. “What are you doing to find them? I want names.”
“My men are combing through surveillance footage,” he said evenly, meeting my glare without flinching. “And questioning locals. The neighborhood’s tight-knit—they’ll talk eventually. But it’s not instant, Maxim.” Conall’s jaw tightened. “This isn’t your territory,” he reminded me.
“No, but it’s my fiancée’s safety at stake,” I shot back. “Or have you forgotten that she’s marrying into my family?”
“Enough,” Cora said firmly, her voice cutting through the tension like a blade. She hadn’t looked up from the kitten, but her tone left no room for argument.
I exhaled sharply, forcing myself to ease back a step. “Cora,” I began, turning to her, “did you see anything? Recognize anyone?”
She shook her head. Her gaze still focused on the kitten as she tickled it and rubbed it with the towel. “I didn’t see much. It all happened so fast. I heard the shots, and Finn grabbed me before I could even turn around.”
Finn. That man deserved a raise—or at least a drink.
“Was it one car? Multiple? Anything that stood out?” I pressed, trying to piece together any scraps of information.
Cora finally looked at me, her expression tired but thoughtful. “I didn’t see anything.” She paused, frowning.
It wasn’t her fault. I sighed, “Conall, I want every scrap of information by the end of the day.”
Conall inclined his head, his expression neutral. “Understood. We’ll team up on this.”
I took a steadying breath, trying to temper my frustration. Losing control wouldn’t help. “I want to be kept informed, Conall. No more surprises.”
“Fine,” he muttered, though his tone suggested he wasn’t thrilled about it.
“Good.” I glanced back at Cora. She had settled into the sofa, the kitten tucked securely against her chest. She was calm—too calm. I realized it was her way of coping, but it still unsettled me.
“You’re sure you’re all right?” I asked again, softer this time.
She looked up at me, her eyes steady and reassuring. “I’m fine, Maxim. Really.”
I didn’t believe her entirely, but I let it go. Instead, I took another step closer, crouching beside the sofa. My hand found hers, resting gently against her knee. “I’ll make sure this doesn’t happen again, zayka. You’re safe with me.”
“I know,” she murmured, her free hand brushing against mine.
The kitten squeaked again, a pitiful, wheezing sound, and I instinctively pulled back. Cora’s lips twitched in amusement.
“Still afraid of it?” she teased.
I glared at the tiny creature, which seemed smaller and more fragile now that it was nestled against her warmth. “I’m not afraid,” I said defensively.
“Uh-huh,” she said, her tone light but her eyes soft.
I stood, adjusting the cuffs of my jacket. “I’ll leave you to… whatever this is.” I gestured vaguely at the kitten.
Conall snorted from his chair, but I ignored him. As I moved toward the door, I turned back to Cora. “Call me if you need anything.”
“I will,” she promised, though I wasn’t sure I believed her.
As I stepped into the hallway, the kitten’s faint cries followed me, and for a moment, I considered asking someone to take it far, far away. But then I thought of how Cora’s face softened when she looked at it, and I knew it wasn’t going anywhere.
For better or worse, the kitten was here to stay.
Just as I reached the door, Cora’s voice stopped me. “Wait,” she said, sitting up straighter on the sofa, her brows furrowing in thought.
I turned, already on edge. “What is it?”
She looked at me, then down at the kitten cradled against her as if gathering her thoughts. “My camera,” she said slowly, the realization dawning on her. “I was taking pictures before it happened. I might have caught something.”
I stared at her for a beat, the tension in my chest shifting. “Where is it?”
“Finn had it,” she said. “He took it when everything started. It should still be in the bag I left by the door.”
I nodded sharply and stepped back into the apartment. Finn was standing near the window, speaking in low tones with one of Conall’s men, but when I approached, he immediately shifted his attention.
“Cora says her camera might have caught something,” I told him. “Where is it?”
Finn frowned, his gaze darting toward the entryway. “In her bag, by the coat rack. I didn’t think to check it.”
“I’ll get it,” I said, brushing past him and heading for the door. The bag was precisely where Cora said it would be, and I retrieved the camera, its weight reassuring in my hand.
When I returned to the living room, Cora was already setting the kitten down gently in a small basket someone had lined with soft towels. She reached for the camera as I approached, her fingers brushing mine as she took it.
“Thanks,” she murmured, powering it on and scrolling through the images.
I leaned over her shoulder, watching as photo after photo of Vinegar Hill’s streets appeared on the screen. Brick facades, the Brooklyn Bridge, the stray cat before she’d found the kitten—each image felt painfully beautiful, but I stayed silent, letting her work.
Then she froze.
“There,” she said, her voice tight.
I followed her gaze to the screen. The image was blurry, snapped in motion, but there was no mistaking it: a dark sedan with tinted windows, the license plate partially visible.
“You caught it,” I said, my pulse quickening.
Cora nodded, her grip tightening on the camera. “It was driving away. I didn’t even realize I’d taken the picture.”
I straightened, already calculating my next move. “Can you send that to me? I could get this to my people. They’ll pull everything they can from it—plate numbers, details, anything that connects it to the shooters.”
“Sure,” Cora nodded.
“We’ll work on it together. Remember,” Conall complained. “Don’t be a hog.”
“Fine,” I conceded.
Her hand shot out, grabbing my sleeve. “Be careful, Maxim.”
I looked down at her, her worry etched into every line of her face. “Always,” I said softly.
She released me, and as I turned to leave again, I glanced back at her, still sitting on the sofa, her focus shifting briefly to the kitten now curled in its makeshift bed.
Whoever had targeted her had made a mistake—a grave one. And I intended to make sure they knew it.