43. DARIA
Chapter forty-three
T he three of us entered Luca Genovese’s office like we were walking into a lion’s den. I kept my spine straight and my chin high, calculating every move to earn his respect. Though I didn’t know the man, I was all too familiar with his type and his reputation. He’d been born into the same mafia generation as my father and wasn’t afraid to make examples out of those who dared cross him. And his close association with Nikolai didn’t help ease my mind.
My goal today was to determine what motivated Luca. I needed to know where Braxton and I stood with him, get a read on his relationship with Nikolai, and ensure he understood I wasn’t the type to back down from a fight.
He and Nikolai held the secret of my new identity in their palms, to wield however they liked. I had to tread carefully. I wasn’t so concerned about taking care of myself but protecting the one man who meant the world to me. Fate had given me the responsibility to look after a stray pup, and he now owned my very soul. I would spare no wrath if anyone dared harm him or his family. Until I drew my last breath, protecting Braxton would be my number-one mission.
The office was a study in old money—walnut paneling, towering windows framing a hazy view of the city below. Luca stood behind an antique desk, wearing a dark suit and a large platinum watch that flashed with each tilt of his wrist. The man didn’t need to speak to command the room. His presence did that for him.
“Welcome, Mrs. Thorin,” Luca said smoothly, his gaze cool and unreadable. “It’s a pleasure.”
I met his eyes and gave him a nod. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Genovese.”
He gestured toward the three seats arranged in a semicircle in front of his desk. “Please. Make yourselves comfortable.”
I remained standing—holding a stance of dominance.
Luca studied me with interest. “The world’s full of traps disguised as hospitality, but rest assured, you’re safe with me.” He gestured toward the chairs. “Please sit.”
Luca sat down in a large black leather chair.
I gave him the faintest smile and finally stepped forward, choosing the center chair and taking it on my terms. I didn’t sink into it—I perched on the edge, upright and poised, and straightened my back, meeting Luca’s gaze directly. He was tall, but I had the height to match him seated like this, and I made damn sure he noticed.
Braxton, calm and quiet as usual, seated himself next to me without a word.
Luca leaned back, adjusting his cuff links. “I can see why you were quite the FSB asset and why so many feared you.”
I smiled politely.
Nikolai took the other seat beside me then, leaning his elbows on Luca’s desk like we were all discussing business over drinks. “Thank you again,” he said to Luca, “for helping push through Mrs. Thorin’s documents. Fast work, even for you.”
Luca gave a small wave of his hand. “You needed it handled. I handled it.”
“And we’re grateful,” Nikolai said. Then, glancing my way, he added, “You may find Dasha to be a valuable asset in the long run.”
Luca looked me over, not in a leering way but in appreciation, as if he were filing away every detail for future use. Then, his eyes narrowed on Nikolai. “I’m sure I will. You’ll need every asset you can find, Nikolai.”
I didn’t miss the dark warning beneath his words.
Luca turned his focus back to me. “How are you holding up? After what happened with your father…and Malinov?”
“I’m doing fine. I’ve done what I always do, adapt.”
“Filthy bastards,” Luca muttered, almost to himself. “The Russian Bratva is a plague. No code. No discipline. Just animals in expensive suits. I don’t allow human trafficking in my organization, and I’ll be damned if I let those sewer rats set up shop in my country.”
“That’s good,” I told him. “They’re the reason I have no loyalty to any brotherhood or nation.” I glanced from Luca to Nikolai. “I’m not a soldier in anyone’s war unless I choose to be. I chose my side a long time ago. And it wasn’t Russia.”
Luca raised a brow, intrigued. “So I’ve heard.” He smirked. “I like your spirit. I value a strong woman.”
Braxton shifted beside me. I could feel him watching me, pride bleeding through in the way he breathed and the tension in his muscles. His hand curled into a fist on his knee as if he were cheering me on.
Nikolai cleared his throat. “She’s one of mine now,” he said to Luca. “Family. Same as Anastasia. She’ll fight when needed, and she’ll respect the alliances we maintain.”
I shot Nikolai a sharp look, but before I could respond, Luca chuckled.
“You’ve got your hands full with the women in your life,” he said. “It’s a good thing you don’t have one under you.”
Nikolai gave a dry laugh. “Agreed. Romance will never be in the cards for me. It’s not the type of trust I’ll ever be willing to give,” he said. “And with Dasha and Anastasia in my life? There’s no way I could handle more.”
Luca grinned, clearly amused. “Speaking of which—any chance Anastasia will be returning to Manhattan? I miss her fiery conversations. Always keeping me on my toes.”
Nikolai shook his head. “Hard to say. She’s got a new life now. Maybe she’s done with this one.”
“I hope not,” Luca said. “She has tenacity and intelligence. I respect that.”
I blinked in surprise. I hadn’t expected him to speak about Anastasia with genuine affection. It caught me off guard—and now, more than ever, I wanted to meet her.
Nikolai stood, brushing invisible dust from his jacket. “It’s been good to stop by and introduce you to Mrs. Thorin, but if we’re done here, I need to get these two on their way to Tacoma. They’ve got a wedding to attend.”
Luca didn’t move. He steepled his fingers and leveled a look at Nikolai. “Sit.”
The shift in the room was instant.
Nikolai froze, then slowly lowered himself back into his chair. I didn’t move, not even to breathe. Luca’s eyes hadn’t even flicked toward me or Braxton. This was bad.
“I’ve got an issue,” Luca finally said in a low rumble, “but you have a very big problem.”
Braxton’s muscles went rigid. I turned my head toward Nikolai. His brows had drawn together, and his jaw was tight. Whatever came next was going to change the game.
Luca tapped his fingers against each other, drawing the moment out like he enjoyed the tension.
“Two days ago,” he said, “Viktor and Valentina escaped from my home.”
Braxton sucked in a sharp breath. My pulse kicked up. My eyes flicked to Nikolai, then back to Luca.
“They managed to manipulate one of my household staff,” Luca continued. “Your father’s a devious bastard. Talked her into giving him a Glock.”
“What the fuck?” Nikolai hissed.
“He shot her in the head,” Luca said, his tone not wavering. “If he hadn’t, I would’ve. Traitors are like cancer. You cut ’em out fast.”
He let the silence hang in the air.
“When my men caught up to them, there was a shoot-out.”
Luca’s words landed like a punch to the ribs.
“Viktor’s dead.”
My vision tunneled. All this time, I’d believed Nikolai had killed them both at that bloodbath in June. That had been the story.
The look on Nikolai’s face told me everything I needed to know. He didn’t deny it. He didn’t even flinch. Which meant he’d known. And if Nikolai knew, then Braxton had to have known too.
My stomach dropped. Another secret. Another lie. They hadn’t trusted me enough to tell me the truth. They’d decided—again—that I didn’t need to know. That I couldn’t be trusted with it. My hands curled into fists in my lap as fury rose, hot and twisting behind my ribs. I’d risked everything to get Braxton out of Russia, put my life in Nikolai’s hands—and still, they’d chosen silence. What else were they keeping from me? Where did that leave Nikolai with the Volkovi Notchi?
I wanted answers, wanted to scream—but I held it all in. Luca was still playing his hand.
Nikolai leaned forward and said in a voice low and lethal, “Where the fuck is my mother?”
Luca let out a humorless chuckle. “Well, now, that is the question, isn’t it?”
He swiveled in his chair slightly, his eyes glinting with amusement.
“She’s slippery,” he said. “We have footage of her boarding a cargo freighter hours later. Destination: Russia. Registered to none other than one of Alexey Melnichenko’s shipping fronts.”
My jaw unhinged slightly.
Braxton shot to his feet, bracing his fists on the edge of Luca’s desk. “How the hell is your home security that weak? You let her walk out? What the fuck are you doing about it?”
Luca’s eyes narrowed. “You think I’ve got an F-35 parked up my ass to shoot down ships in international waters?” His voice took on a razor’s edge. “Watch your tone, boy, or Dasha here will be a widow before she even leaves this room.”
Braxton stiffened. I shot him a look, and so did Nikolai.
“Sit,” Nikolai ordered Braxton.
Braxton ground his teeth but obeyed.
Nikolai rested his fist on the edge of the desk and looked Luca dead in the eye. “I’ll have my men meet the ship at the port. The men I trust. If she steps off it, they’ll put her down.”
Luca leaned back, smirking. “Are you sure you have any loyal men?”
That landed hard. Nik didn’t flinch, but his shoulders tensed subtly.
“The ones that matter are loyal to me,” he said coolly. “Their loyalties don’t lie with the Bratva or any country. They’re businessmen. They want what I’ve built—a conglomerate of tech, finance, and crypto businesses and clean laundering networks. They’re done selling young girls at meat markets and done with making snuff films. The old guard? Sure. They still think like Viktor. And the Tambovskaya Bratva? They’re meatheads who think power comes from the pain they inflict and from keeping their organization tightly under control, but like with the Volkovi Notchi, the old fuckers are dying off left and right.”
He stood and leaned across the desk. Luca’s guard stepped toward him on instinct, but Luca waved them off without breaking eye contact with Nikolai.
“Power today isn’t built on brutality,” Nikolai said. “It’s built on capital. Influence. Look at the elections being bought by that egotistical prick billionaire from South Africa. Soon, there won’t be any geopolitical borders, only alliances built on the power of keeping the masses fed and happy enough not to stir up too much shit. That’s the new world order.”
He paused.
“So the question is, Luca…are you going to adapt? Or retire?”
Luca’s mouth twitched into something that was not quite a smile. “You always were bold. I like that about your sister too. Fiery little thing. I’d say it runs in the family.”
Nikolai chuckled and straightened. “Anastasia is smarter than I am, truth be told.”
“No doubt,” Luca said, his amusement returning. He stood slowly, smoothing his cuffs. “It’s in both our interests to reach a mutually beneficial agreement—a partnership, even. How about we iron out the details over dinner?”
Luca shot Braxton and me a quick glance before returning his attention to Nikolai. “You get these two tucked into that fancy G800 of yours and off to Tacoma. Then we’ll talk.”
Nikolai nodded once, his expression more measured now. He’d taken a hit today, but he had held his own.
Luca offered me one final glance, and this time it held something bordering on approval. I didn’t blink.
I finally understood why Luca had arranged this meeting—not just to meet me but to see if Nikolai was ready to step up.
Luca barely flicked his fingers toward the man standing at his right. “See them out.”
No goodbye. No handshake. Just a dismissal.
We stood. Braxton shifted beside me, trying to catch my eye, but I didn’t give him the satisfaction. Nikolai didn’t say a word either as we walked to the elevator and stepped inside. As the doors closed, I caught him shooting Braxton a look—half-apology, half-warning.
Braxton tried to take my hand.
I jerked it away.
Silence reigned as the elevator descended, the tension boxing us in tighter than the mirrored walls.
As soon as the doors opened, I stepped out quickly. I moved fast, my shoes smacking against the marble. I flew through the lobby, shoving through the front doors and out onto the street. The sunlight struck me like a slap. I didn’t stop. Didn’t look back.
Turning, I made my way along the edge of the building and veered into the first alley I saw. It was dark, full of trash bins and not much else. Perfect.
I heard footsteps behind me.
Braxton was catching up just as I spun around. I slammed him into the brick wall. His back hit with a thud, his shoulders tensing, but he didn’t fight me.
Nikolai rounded the corner, took one look at us, and held up both hands. “I’ll give you two a minute,” he muttered, already turning away.
I shoved my forearm against Braxton’s chest, my fury boiling. “How long?” I hissed. “How long did you know?”
Braxton raised his hands, palms up. “Since the wedding back in June. I haven’t been able to say anything—Nik made me swear I wouldn’t tell a soul in order to make the deal.”
“Deal? What deal?” I said icily. “You both let me believe they were dead, let me sit across from you, sleep beside you, lie under you—all while you held onto that secret.”
“I had to,” he said, his voice hoarse. “The only way Nikolai would agree to help save you from Malinov was if I kept Viktor and Valentina’s situation a secret. I used it to blackmail him into getting you out. I had nothing else.”
I stared at him, my pulse pounding in my ears.
Braxton pressed his back into the brick wall, like he needed its stability to keep him standing. “Nikolai is a decent man—for a mafia boss—but as you know, ultimately, there was no way in hell he would voluntarily stick his neck out, burn through a million Kremlin and Volkovi Notchi connections, and risk his life just to save you.”
He squeezed his eyes shut for a second and shook his head. “You know how this world works, Daria. You’ve lived in it a lot longer than me. I had no other choice. Fuck this mafia bullshit world. There are never any good options. Just less bad ones.” His eyes met mine then, imploring me to understand. “And if you think this makes me a liar—if this makes you want to walk away from me—fine, but I’d do it all over again to save your life.”
His hands came up fast, cupping my face, thumbs brushing my cheekbones. “You matter more to me than getting my heart broken. Your safety, your future—that’s everything.”
Then, as though the words had been pressing against his ribs for days, threatening to burst free, he shouted, “I love you! I love you more than life itself.”
Before I could respond, he kissed me. Hard. As if it were the last thing he would ever get from me. When he pulled back, breathless, he pressed his forehead to mine.
“If you love something,” he whispered, “you let it go. If it comes back, it was meant to stay.” His thumbs slipped from my face. “But sometimes…sometimes letting go is the only way to move forward.”
He stepped to the side. Walked past me. And kept going.
I stood there, shaking. I had to brace my hand against the wall to remain standing.
He loves me.
The man…loved me.
I’d spent so long building walls that I’d never thought about someone wanting to climb them just to reach me.
My throat tightened. The one person who had never treated me like I was a tool was walking away because I couldn’t trust him enough to understand why he’d kept one goddamn secret to save my life. More than most people, I understood how the mafia world operated; bargains for people’s lives were made every day. My lack of faith in humanity and my scars had driven my response to the revelation about Viktor and Valentina.
God, I’d messed up.
My hand slid from the wall.
I ran.
“Braxton!” I shouted, my shoes hitting the pavement hard.
He turned just as I threw myself into his arms. He caught me like he always did—without hesitation. I grabbed his face, pulled his mouth to mine, and kissed him until we both forgot where we were.
“I love you,” I whispered into his lips. “You hear me? I love you.”
He groaned, crushing me to him. “Say it again.”
“I love you.”
He spun me, laughing against my neck. “God, Daria—”
“I love you, Boy Scout!” I said, laughing and crying at the same time.
“I love you,” he growled, kissing my jaw, my cheek, my forehead. “I love you so damn much.”
Applause broke out nearby. Someone whistled.
I turned and saw Nikolai leaning against the side of the building, arms crossed, shaking his head.
“I will never understand love,” he said flatly. “But I’m happy for you. I guess.”
I leaned into Braxton’s chest, curling my fingers into the back of his jacket.
Let the world burn. For once, I had something worth protecting. And I wasn’t letting him go.
We were still wrapped up in each other when a scream broke through our tender moment.
A man’s voice, gruff and angry, rose above the noises of the street. I twisted just in time to catch a blur of black muscle barrel toward me—an enormous dog with cropped ears, its jaws clamped around a bloody hunk of meat. He sideswiped my hip before he tore down the sidewalk and into the alley we’d just come out of.
Behind him, a butcher in a blood-streaked apron came tearing down the sidewalk with a cleaver in one hand and a mouth full of curses. His face was red, his belly jiggling as he ran past us.
“Get back here, you mangy son of a bitch!” he roared.
I didn’t think. I bolted after them.
I hit the entrance of the alley just as the man was cornering the dog.
The dog had nowhere to go—the walls boxed him in—but he didn’t drop the meat. He growled low, crouched in a defensive posture. The butcher took a wild swing with his knife. Missed.
“Drop it!” he said. “That’s five hundred dollars of premium ribeye, you filthy rat!”
“Hey!” I shouted. “Back the hell off!”
He didn’t stop.
Another swipe.
I rushed forward. “I said, back off!”
He turned on me. “Mind your business, bitch. That’s my meat. Damn mutt’s as good as dead—” His eyes narrowed on me. “What are you, some dyke? What’s with the spiky short hair? You even eat, or do you just blow over in the wind?”
Wrong choice of words.
Within two seconds, I disarmed him. My heel snagged his wrist—yes, I was well-versed in fighting in dress shoes. The cleaver clattered to the ground and skidded under a dumpster. I followed with a palm to his nose, a knee to his groin, and a fist across his jaw. His feet were lifted off the ground with the impact.
He stumbled back, dazed.
I didn’t stop.
I punched him again. And again. I broke skin. Busted his nose. Sent teeth flying.
With blood smeared across his face, he fell, slumping against the wall.
“I’d demand an apology,” I said, breathless with fury, “but I don’t think you can speak with half your teeth down your throat.”
He moaned, curling in on himself.
I delivered one last kick, right to his ribs. He groaned but didn’t move again.
The dog still stood in the corner of the alley, his powerful body tense, the meat clamped between his jaws. He hadn’t run, hadn’t attacked, just watched.
Slowly, I crouched where I was, palms open. “Hey, big guy. It’s okay now. That steak? Yours. You earned it.”
His ears twitched.
“You could’ve eaten him, but you didn’t. That’s restraint. That’s discipline.” I smiled. “You’re a powerful boy, aren’t you? So strong. So smart.”
The dog whined.
I approached him cautiously, reaching out.
He sniffed my hand, then nudged it with his nose. In a blink, he closed the distance, brushing against my leg. Then he sat upright. Perfect posture. Every rib was visible beneath his black coat, but his eyes were bright, alert, and calculating.
Like a soldier waiting for orders.
I patted his massive head. “Good boy.”
Then I stood, rubbing my sore knuckles, and walked toward the alley’s opening. The dog stuck close beside me. When we reached Braxton and Nikolai, he stepped between them and me and let out a low growl.
I couldn’t help it—I laughed. “He’s protective. I like him.”
“Daria…” Braxton started, clearly unsure. The dog let out a louder growl.
I shot out a command in German: “Zurück.”
The dog immediately stopped growling and sat at my side again like a statue.
I looked at Braxton. “He’s coming with us.”
“What?! We can’t just take some random dog from—”
I held up a hand. “I found you alone in a blown-out house in the middle of a war zone. Didn’t stop me then.”
He blinked, giving me a blank look.
“My mother used to bring home strays,” I said softly. “Always said we’re supposed to help those no one else will. Guess that stuck.”
Braxton didn’t speak.
“I blew my cover, wrecked my mission, and crossed half of Eastern Europe to save one stray American Boy Scout who was too stubborn to shut up and too good to leave behind. This dog? Same story.”
I glanced down at the cane corso. “Except he’s probably easier to train.”
Nikolai burst out laughing—an honest, deep belly laugh.
Braxton mock frowned. “I should be offended.”
“Nooo, you should be happy I have a soft spot for strays,” I said.
The dog’s ears perked up, and his head swung back and forth as we spoke, as if he was following every word.
Nikolai scrubbed a hand over his chin. “A dog like that might come in handy, especially now that Valentina seems to be throwing her lot in with Alexey and his Bratva.”
Braxton sighed. “Fine. He comes.”
The dog huffed like he understood.
Nikolai checked his watch. “All right, you three. Let’s get moving. You’ve got a wedding to catch. I’ve got dinner with a man who might stab me with a salad fork if I play my cards wrong.”
I scratched behind the dog’s ears. “What do you think? Think Tacoma sounds like a good place to live?”
The dog made a happy little whine and licked my wrist once.
“Smart boy,” I murmured. “Let’s go find a new home.”
I glanced over and caught a shift in Braxton’s expression.
His mouth tightened, and his eyes seemed to focus somewhere distant. It was that quiet, storm-brewing kind of serious that didn’t show up often—but when it did, it meant something.
He stepped toward Nikolai and motioned him aside.
They angled away from me, keeping their voices low. I couldn’t catch any of what was said, but Braxton rubbed the back of his neck the way he always did when something was weighing on him. Nikolai leaned in. They spoke in hushed tones for a few minutes, heads close. Whatever it was, Braxton wasn’t smiling.
Then Nikolai gave him a grin—wide, mischievous. He clapped a firm hand on Braxton’s shoulder and gave it a solid squeeze. “Don’t worry,” he said loudly enough for me to hear. “I’ll take care of everything.”
He turned and pulled out his phone as he walked toward the curb.
I stared after them, curiosity itching at my spine. Whatever this was, it had Braxton wound up tight.
The dog let out a long sigh and flopped onto the sidewalk, devouring the steak. He looked smug, like he’d just won the battle and had earned his reward.
“At least he won’t be hungry for a human arm on the flight home,” Braxton muttered, coming to stand beside me. We watched the dog gnaw with single-minded purpose.
I smirked. “Let’s hope he doesn’t have a taste for seat cushion.”
A moment later, a sleek black limo pulled up to the curb. The driver stepped out and opened the rear door. Braxton gestured for me to get in first. I slid in, the leather cool against my legs, and the dog followed, as if he’d been trained to ride in style his whole life.
Nikolai shouted to Braxton, “I’ll be in touch!”
Braxton gave him a thumbs up and climbed in. The driver shut the door, and the city noise was muted. A minute later, we were moving.
We didn’t speak at first, just breathed.
Then Braxton turned to me. “So…are we okay?”
I studied him for a moment. “That depends.”
“On what?”
“Is there anything else you haven’t told me?” I raised a brow. “Any other secrets you plan to spring on me after emotionally wrecking me in front of a Manhattan crime boss?”
He held up his hands. “Nothing I can think of…unless you count the time I saw Samantha and Bethany driving through town in the Firebird and didn’t tell Atticus. Damn, what a sight that was… Sam’s red hair blowing in the wind, the top down, the radio blasting. Those two can get into so much trouble. And if you need to know one thing about Atticus, it’s that he never lets anyone touch the Bird.”
I rolled my eyes at his cute little story.
Braxton chuckled and reached for me, slipping his hand behind my neck and pulling me closer until our foreheads touched.
“I love you,” he said, soft and certain.
I narrowed my eyes, my lips twitching. “Yeah. I know.”
“Oh, you know ?”
“It’s the only reason you’re still standing.”
I nipped at his bottom lip just enough to make him suck in a breath.
Then I cupped his face between my hands, met his eyes, and let the truth out.
“I love you, Braxton Wyatt Thorin. With all my heart.”
He didn’t speak—just kissed me as the world blurred by outside the windows.
From the floorboard, the dog groaned.
We pulled apart and looked down.
He rolled onto his side with a grunt as if he couldn’t take one more second of our dramatic human nonsense.
I grinned and rubbed his flank. “You’d better get used to it, big guy.”
Braxton leaned in and kissed the top of my head. “Yeah,” he murmured. “We’re a package deal now.”