24. Maxim
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
maxim
The morning light filtered through the heavy curtains of my bedroom, casting faint golden streaks across the charcoal-gray sheets. I lay on my back, staring at the ceiling, my mind already turning over the day's demands. A pakhan in the bratva didn’t get to rest just because he took a wife. There was a whole organization to run.
Beside me, Cora stirred, her dark hair spread like ink against the pillow.
My wife.
The word felt foreign, almost unreal, but the sight of her in my bed made it undeniable. She shifted, her bare shoulder peeking out from the blanket, and for a brief moment, I allowed myself to marvel at the quiet strength in her. She didn’t shy away from me, even when every reason to run was written in the vows she had spoken last night.
The thought had been unappealing to take a wife, but now I couldn’t imagine her not being here in my space.
The vibration of my phone on the nightstand shattered the fragile peace. I reached for it, my chest tightening as I saw the name flashing on the screen: Conall.
What the fuck was he doing calling me today?
“What is it?” I asked, my voice rough from sleep but sharp with urgency.
“There’s been a fire,” he said without preamble. “ Fortune’s gone, Maxim. Burned to the ground.”
The words hit like a physical blow, but I didn’t react. Not outwardly. Years of training my expression into a mask of steel kept me composed. Inside, though, fury roared to life. Fortune wasn’t just a club—it was a symbol of power, wealth, and control. An attack on it was an attack on each of us.
“I’ll be there within the hour,” I said, ending the call before he could say more.
I swung my legs out of bed, calculating my next moves, but Cora’s voice stopped me.
“What happened?” she asked, sitting up, the blanket clutched around her. Her eyes, still heavy with sleep, were full of worry.
“It doesn’t concern you,” I said automatically, pulling on my pants and then immediately regretted it as she flinched.
Her jaw tightened, and she threw the blanket off, stepping out of bed with more determination than I’d expected. “I’m your wife now, Maxim. If it concerns you, it concerns me.”
I stared at her, torn between irritation and reluctant respect. She had spirit. I couldn’t deny she belonged more than I’d anticipated in my world.
“Fine,” I said, grabbing a shirt. “But you stay close to me. No wandering off, no questions unless I say otherwise.”
She nodded, already heading to the bathroom. I could hear her rustling around before she emerged in what seemed to be her standard jeans and a T-shirt. This one said: ‘The Hardest Part of the Zombie Apocalypse — To Act Like I’m Not Excited.’
I huffed. She was a laugh riot. She’d be dead meat if an apocalypse happened. Of course, I’d do my best to save her. She had her camera with her, but that was to be expected. Cora was Cora. I hadn’t shown her my wedding present yet. I’d set her up with a studio here so she could work on her photography. I wasn’t sure what she needed, but I wanted her to have space to do what she loved. I’d had it stocked with a couple of extra cameras, a desk, and a high-end computer loaded with editing software. I figured she’d like that better than any jewelry I’d get her.
Sending a text to Lev, I tried to focus on business as I got dressed instead of my gorgeous wife, who still had swollen lips and flushed cheeks as if she was reliving our escapades from last night.
Lev and Kolya were waiting downstairs, grim-faced but ready. As my two most trusted enforcers, their presence constantly reminded me of the volatility of my life. Without needing instructions, they walked beside us as we left for the club and got into the armored SUV.
I spoke to them both yesterday about Cora’s security. Kolya had been assigned to her as a personal bodyguard, and there would be two more men when she left the property that would shadow her that he personally vetted. Her tendency to sneak out and take photos would have to be curtailed. I wasn’t sure how she would handle the extra security, but she couldn’t wander around without the additional safety measures. It wasn’t safe.
The drive to Fortune was tense, the air thick with unspoken questions. Cora sat beside me, silent but watchful, her gaze flickering between the city rushing past and my face chomping on her baggie of dry Lucky Charms that she’d brought in her camera bag. I kept my eyes forward, already anticipating what I’d find when we arrived.
After all — the club had burnt down before.
The smell hit first—acrid, choking smoke that lingered even though the fire was long out. When we pulled up to what had once been Fortune , the devastation was absolute. Someone had been thorough. Charred beams jutted like broken bones from the wreckage, and the air was still heavy with ash.
Conall stood near the remains of the entrance, his hands shoved into his coat pockets. Angelo was beside him, his sharp features unreadable.
“We spoke to Oscar and reviewed the footage he sent. This wasn’t an accident,” Conall said the moment we approached.
“No,” I agreed. It wasn’t even a question. Whoever had done this wanted a message sent, and they wanted it loud.
Oscar was Fortune’s manager. I could see him in rubble on the far side, sifting through what should be left of the office. He was a big man, built like a bear, with shoulders that intimidated and a voice that brooked no nonsense, but he had a keen mind for business and a streak of loyalty that wouldn’t quit.
“Maxim,” Angelo greeted, his voice low and measured. “Whoever did this is dead.”
I glanced at Cora. She stood slightly behind me, her expression calm but her hands clenched at her sides. I didn’t miss how her eyes darted to each of us, then to the wreckage, trying to piece together the politics of the scene.
“Lev, Kolya,” I barked. “Go through what’s left. Find anything that survived—documents, cameras, anything useful.”
They nodded and moved off, stepping carefully over the debris.
Cora took a step forward, her gaze locked on the destruction. “Do you know who did this?”
Her voice was steady, but I could hear the undercurrent of fear—not for herself but for what this meant for us.
“I have suspicions,” I admitted, glancing at Conall.
He met my gaze, a flicker of agreement in his eyes. Whoever did this would pay, but the why was what mattered now. Fortune wasn’t just a club; it was our gathering place. Someone wanted to tear down more than just the walls.
I reached for Cora’s hand, pulling her close. “Don’t wander,” I said, quieter this time. “I’m going to look around.”