Chapter 49 Stefan
STEFAN
The sound of her voice lights a fuse in me.
I see red. Pure, blinding red. Every muscle in my body locks. My jaw clamps down so hard I taste blood. The glass in my hand cracks—just a hairline fracture, but enough that scotch starts leaking between my fingers.
All I can hear is her. That voice. That fucking voice. She used to talk to my father like that—like he was a disobedient dog who pissed on the rug.
I force myself to breathe. In. Out. Control. That’s the name of the game. If I lose it, she wins. Simple as that.
Iakov is watching me, though his face is carefully blank and I can’t tell what the hell he’s thinking. Taras has gone completely still by the door.
I set the broken glass down carefully. “Natalia.”
She clicks her tongue. “Is that any way to greet your mother?”
“You’re not my mother. You’re a parasite who happened to give birth to me.”
She laughs. It’s light, musical, airy. You’d think she was at a cocktail party, trading jokes with the hostess, everyone giggling happily like it’s all hunky-fucking-dory in the world. “Still so angry,” she tuts. “Even after all these years.”
“What do you want?”
“Straight to business. Just like your father. He never had time for pleasantries, either.”
My hands curl into fists. “Don’t talk about him.”
“Why not? He was my husband. I have every right to talk about him.”
“You have no rights. Not to him, not to his memory. Not to anything.”
“How dramatic.” She pauses. I can practically hear her examining her nails. “But I suppose that’s to be expected. You always were an emotional child.”
I want to reach through the phone and strangle her. I want to wrap my hands around her throat and watch the life drain from her eyes the way it drained from my father’s.
But I can’t.
So I do the only thing I can. I breathe. And I wait.
“Are you going to say something?” she asks. “Or should I just hang up?”
“Cut to the chase, Natalia. I don’t have time for your games.”
“Very well.” Just like that, all the cheer vanishes from her voice. She’s cold-blooded at the flick of a switch. Fucking sociopath. “I’m offering you a choice. Give up your claim to the Bratva. Hand it over to me. Publicly. Officially. And I’ll leave you alone.”
I have to laugh. I can’t help it. “Or what?”
“Or I release the evidence I have on Mikayla and Mila Vladislav. I go to the federal authorities with proof that you murdered Mikayla and are currently holding Mila captive. Kidnapping, murder, assault—take your pick. They’ll throw the whole book at you, and when they have what I’m going to give them, they won’t miss with a single charge. ”
The laughter dies in my throat.
I didn’t see that coming.
The failed rescue attempt, the chaos at the manor. What if it wasn’t about extraction? What if it was about blackmail? Of course she got photos, video, endless recordings of Mila screaming from the basement.
She has enough to bury me.
I need time. Just a few minutes to think through this shit and find a way out.
So I stall.
“Tell me about the fire,” I say.
Silence. Then a soft exhale. “What about it?”
“You survived. How?”
“You already know how.”
“I know what I think happened. I want to hear it from you.”
Another pause. Longer this time. When she speaks again, her voice is quieter. Almost contemplative. “I knew you wouldn’t stop,” she explains. “Not until I was dead. You’re too much like your father that way. Stubborn. Single-minded. Incapable of letting go.”
“So you faked your death.”
“Yes.”
“Using Mikayla Vladislav.”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“It wasn’t difficult. I called her in that evening and told her there was work to be done. When she arrived, I gave her tea. We chatted. She was a sweet girl. Very trusting.”
My stomach turns.
“I put something in the tea,” Natalia continues. “Not enough to kill her. Just enough to make her sleep. When she was unconscious, I put my ring on her finger. Then I left.”
“You left her to burn.”
“I left her to serve a purpose. Her death bought my freedom. It was a fair trade.”
“A fair trade.” I repeat what she said slowly. Tasting it. Hating it. “You murdered an innocent girl so you could escape.”
“Who are you to judge? You’ve killed people, Stefan. Lots of people. Don’t pretend you’re better than me.”
“I’ve never killed an innocent.”
“Everyone is innocent to someone.”
I want to argue. But the truth is, I don’t know a goddamn thing anymore. The lines I used to draw so clearly have blurred over the years until I can’t tell right from wrong, black from right, insane from perfectly logical.
I glance at Iakov. He hasn’t moved, but there’s a new shade of emotion in his face. Disgust, perhaps. He didn’t know the full story. Not this part, at least.
“Let’s say I believe you,” I tell Natalia. “Let’s say you killed Mikayla and faked your death. That still doesn’t explain why you’re doing this now. Why come after me? Why the Bratva?”
“Because it’s mine,” she hisses.
“It was never yours.”
“It should have been! I built it alongside Matvey. I made the connections. I smoothed over the conflicts. I was the one who kept everything running while he spiraled into paranoia and depression.”
“You mean while you drove him to paranoia and depression.”
“He drove himself. I just refused to stop him. Those are the facts, Stefan.”
I lean forward, pressing my palms flat against the desk. “Here’s a fact for you, Natalia. Even if I give you the Bratva, you won’t live forever. You’ll have to pass it on to someone. Who’s it going to be? Iakov?”
“That depends on you.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means if you behave, if you listen to your mother, I’ll make sure your daughter inherits what’s rightfully hers.”
My blood runs cold. “You stay the fuck away from my daughter.”
“I have no intention of hurting her. In fact, I’d very much like to meet her. To be her grandmother.”
“Over my dead body.”
“If you insist, son, then that can be arranged.”
Her plan is obvious and undeniable. She’s going to kill me. The moment I give her what she wants, the moment I’m no longer useful, she’s going to put a bullet in my head and take everything.
But I’m not going to let that happen.
I straighten up. “You’re forgetting something, Natalia.”
“What’s that?”
“Even if you go to the feds with your so-called evidence, it doesn’t mean anything without the bodies. Mikayla Vladislav’s body is dust by now,” I say. “Scattered in the ashes of that cabin you burned down. And Mila’s body?” I smile cruelly. “That will never be found. I promise you that.”
“You think you’re so clever, Stefan. So untouchable. But everyone has a weakness. And I know yours.”
“Do you?”
“Olivia.”
My heart stops. “Touch her and I’ll hunt you to the ends of the fucking earth, Mother.”
“I don’t need to touch her. I just need to talk to her. Once I show her who you really are, everything else becomes so, so simple.”
“She already knows who I am.”
“Does she? Or does she only know the version you’ve shown her?” When I don’t answer, Natalia laughs. “That’s what I thought. Goodbye, Stefan. Think about my offer. You have one week.”
The line goes dead.
I stare at the phone in Iakov’s hand. He tucks it away and meets my gaze. “Well?” he says. “What are you going to do?”
I walk around the desk and stop in front of him. “Why are you doing this?” I ask instead of answering his question. “You’re handling her dirty work, playing errand boy. Is it because she promised you the Bratva?”
He shakes his head. “I have no interest in your Bratva.”
“Then why?”
He looks at me for a long, contemplative moment. Then he says, “Because I owe her my life.”
I blink. “What?”
“After you exiled my father, he was going to kill himself. He had the gun in his hand. The barrel in his mouth. That’s how Natalia found him,” Iakov says. “She talked him down and got him help. She’s the only reason he lived as long as he did.”
“He still killed himself.”
“Yes. But she gave him five more years that I wouldn’t have had otherwise. So when she came to me and asked for my help, I couldn’t say no.”
I’m looking for the lie. But I don’t see one.
He really believes this.
“She’s using you,” I warn him.
“Maybe. But I’m using her, too. We all use each other, Stefan. That’s how the world works.”
“Not my world.”
He smiles. It’s sad. “If you really believe that, then you’re lying to yourself.”
He turns and walks toward the door. Taras steps aside to let him pass.
“Iakov,” I bark. He stops and looks back. “If you come after me or my family again, I won’t hesitate. I’ll kill you. And I’ll make sure Arielle knows exactly why.”
He merely nods, neither surprised nor concerned. “Noted.”
Then he’s gone.
Taras closes the door and turns to me. “What the fuck just happened?”
“My mother happened.”
“She’s alive.”
“Yes.”
“And she wants the Bratva. Are you going to give it to her?”
I walk back to my desk and sit down. My hands are shaking. I press them flat against the wood to steady them. “No.”
“Then what are you going to do?”
“I don’t know yet.”
“She has evidence. Photos. Videos. She could destroy you.”
“She could try.”
“Stefan—”
“I said I don’t fucking know!” The words come out louder than I intended. Harsher.
Taras doesn’t flinch. He just crosses his arms and waits. “How much time do we have?”
“A week. Maybe less, if she gets impatient.”
“And if she goes to the feds?”
“Then we deal with it.” I look up at him. “The same way we always do. With blood and fire.”
He nods slowly. “Alright. What do you need from me?”
“Find out where she’s staying. Who she’s working with. What her next move is.”
“On it.” He turns to leave, but then stops and turns around again. “You know she’s going to come after Olivia, right? You need to tell her. Warn her.”
“I will.”
“When?”
“That’ll be all, Taras.”
To his credit, he doesn’t push any further. He just nods and leaves.
I’m alone again. The office is quiet except for the ticking of the clock on the wall. Each sweep of the hand feels like it’s being ripped out of my skin. I pull out my phone and look at Olivia’s name in my contacts. I should call her. She needs to know what’s happening.
But I can’t.
Not yet.
Because if I tell her, she’ll want to help. To find some peaceful solution where everyone walks away happy. And there is no peaceful solution. Not with Natalia.
The only way this ends is with one of us dead.
I just have to make sure it’s her.
I pocket my phone and stand. My legs feel unsteady, but I force them to hold. One week. I have one week to figure out how to kill a ghost.
I’m going to need every second of it.