Chapter 26
Chapter Twenty-Six
Igor
I hadn't slept a fucking second for two days.
Coffee stopped working. By the eighth espresso Artyom brought me, my hands were shaking—not from caffeine, but from anger. That hollow, burning kind of rage with nowhere to go.
"Don, you need to rest," Artyom said carefully.
"Shut up." I stared at the map spread across the table, every possible hideout for Natasha and Salvatore marked in tight, ugly handwriting. "Where's the intel report?"
"Here." He handed me a stack of files.
I flipped through them fast, eyes skimming numbers and locations. I'd been putting defenses in place for days, but defense wasn't enough. I needed to strike. I needed to know what those bastards were planning.
"Salvatore's been active," Artyom said, pointing to a line. "Our source says he's moving a weapons shipment. Big enough to arm fifty men."
My temples throbbed. "Destination?"
"Unknown." He shook his head. "He's being careful—using layers of middlemen. We're tracing it."
"Faster." I slammed the files on the table. "I want to know where it's headed, when it moves, how they're moving it. Now."
"Yes, Don."
I paced the temporary office Artyom had secured for me. I didn't want Natasha and Salvatore's mess touching Elena and Stella. Outside the window, Tuscany lay under the stars. Elena and Stella were at the apartment—maybe getting ready for bed.
I pulled out my phone and looked at the photo Elena had sent that morning: Stella in her favorite pink dress, clutching the giant teddy I'd won, smiling so hard her eyes were crescent moons.
Goddamn. I had to end this—fast.
"Natasha?" I lit a cigarette and inhaled. "Any sign of that crazy bitch?"
"Last seen in downtown Florence," Artyom said, opening another report. "She went to a law firm."
"A law firm?" I narrowed my eyes. "For what?"
"We checked. She was liquidating whatever assets the family had left."
I snorted. "She had nothing. What was there to liquidate?"
"Maybe that's what made her worse," Artyom said low. "Don, I'm worried. She'll do anything."
"Of course she will." I flicked ash. "Keep tracking her."
"Yes."
The next morning, I was finishing a pile of paperwork, about to head to the apartment to see Elena and Stella, when my phone rang. Elena.
"Igor." Her voice was tight, edged with panic.
"What?" I snapped awake.
"Stella's kindergarten called." She rushed the words. "Some woman came saying she was Stella's aunt and tried to pick her up."
My blood ran cold. "What?"
"The teacher refused—because I hadn't told them. The woman pressed; she was persistent, but she left." Elena was trembling. "Who could it be? From the description, she didn't sound like Natasha."
I grabbed my coat. "Whether it's her or not, the kindergarten's compromised. Where are you?"
"Apartment. I'm going to pick Stella up."
"Don't move." I barked. "Stay in the apartment. I'm sending people to get Stella. Call the kindergarten and tell them not to release her to anyone. I'm on my way."
I hung up and ordered Artyom, "Go to the kindergarten. Bring my daughter back."
"Yes, Don!"
I tore downstairs and drove like a man on fire to Elena's building. I stormed in and found her pale in the living room. She flung herself at me the second she saw me.
"Stella—"
"My men already have Stella and are bringing her back," I said, holding her. She shook. "She was fine. She was fine. I won't let anyone hurt our daughter."
My phone buzzed. Artyom.
"Don, we have Stella. We're en route."
I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding. "Good. Speed up."
Fifteen minutes later, the door opened. Artyom walked in with Stella in his arms, a small, puzzled face peeking out.
"Mom!" she reached for Elena.
Elena scooped her up and hugged her tight. "Baby, are you okay?"
"I'm fine," Stella tilted her head. "Why did a stranger come for me? Mom, are you crying?"
"No, no." Elena wiped her eyes and forced a smile. "Mom missed you."
I watched them—my heart heavy and split. Then I turned to Artyom quietly. "Pull the kindergarten's CCTV. I want this woman's face."
"On it, Don."
When Artyom left, I went back to Elena. Stella clung to her, tiny arms wrapped around her neck.
"Stella," I called.
She looked up at me. "Daddy?"
"There's something I need to tell you." I braced myself.
"What?" Her big eyes were curious.
"You're not going to kindergarten starting tomorrow," I said bluntly.
Her face fell. "Why? I like kindergarten. I like Ms. Angela and my friends."
"I know." I stroked her hair. "But Daddy needs you to stay home for a while."
"But—" Tears came to her eyes, "we planned to play hide-and-seek tomorrow with my friends."
Elena's eyes were full of grief. I hated seeing my girl hurt more than anything else.
"Stella." I took her small hand. "Do you trust Daddy?"
She nodded.
"Then this is a game." I forced a smile. "A special treasure hunt."
Her tears stopped. "A treasure hunt?"
"Yeah." I smiled properly. "I'll hide treasures around the apartment. You find them—you get a prize."
"Really?" Her whole face lit up. "What kind of treasures?"
"That's for you to find out," I said. "One rule—you stay inside. No leaving until you find them all. Got it?"
"I got it!" She squeezed her eyes shut like a kid, then covered them with her hands. "Don't peek, Daddy."
"Okay." I grinned. "Get used to your room. My first treasure will be hidden there."
She wriggled out of Elena's arms and bolted for her room, short legs like pistons.
Elena stepped closer, softer. "What are you going to hide?"
"I had Artyom buy a bunch of little-girl toys. We'll hide them around." I looked down at my phone to text orders. She stood on tiptoe and kissed me.
"Thank you." She whispered against my lips. "Thank you for making her happy."
"I should be the one doing that," I said. "She shouldn't have to deal with this."
She squeezed my hand. "It's not your fault."
I didn't answer. Deep down, I knew the truth: I had dragged them into this. If not for me, they could've lived a quiet life.
"I'll fix this," I promised. "Soon."
We spent the next hours scattering toys around the apartment. Stella hunted and squealed and found three prizes before bedtime, promising to find more tomorrow. She fell asleep with a smile.
I sat in the living room, back to work. My phone buzzed. Artyom.
[Don, we've got something important.]
I called back. "Talk."
"We got one of Salvatore's men." Artyom's voice was low. "He was caught surveilling one of our safe houses."
"Interrogated?"
"He started talking." Artyom paused. "He said Salvatore's planning a major hit. The target—"
"What?" I clenched the phone.
"Elena and Stella."
My stomach dropped.
"What do they want?"
"Kidnap," Artyom said. "They plan to move in three days."
I gave orders without thinking. "Fortify everything. Now. Fill the apartment perimeter with my men. Any suspicious person—kill on sight."
"Yes, Don."
I hung up and leaned back on the couch, closing my eyes. I had to neutralize Salvatore before he got to them.
Elena came out of the bathroom and found me still. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing." I opened my eyes and reached for her. "Come here."
She settled on my lap in her sleepwear. I buried my face in her neck and breathed in the scent of her shower gel.
"Igor," she said, fingers in my hair, "tell me."
"We caught one of Salvatore's men," I said. "He talked. They're planning to hit the apartment in three days."
Elena went pale. "So what do we—"
"I will protect you." I held her hand. "I swear, Elena. I won't let anyone hurt you or Stella."
For the next three days, I barely left the apartment.
I set men everywhere, checked every weak point.
Artyom brought more guards; we had twenty around the building.
Elena and Stella stayed inside, playing the treasure game.
Watching Stella find the little surprises eased me, at least on the surface. She didn't know the storm was coming.
On the third evening, I stood on the balcony watching the street. The sun dropped, bathing the old stones in gold.
"They're coming, aren't they?" Elena walked up beside me.
"Yeah," I said. "Salvatore doesn't back down."
We were quiet for a minute. I kissed her forehead. "Stay with Stella. If you hear anything, lock yourselves in the bedroom and don't come out. Understand?"
She nodded and went back inside.
Night fell. My hand never left the gun at my hip.
At eight, it hit. Gunfire downstairs, then an explosion. The whole building shook.
"They're here!" Artyom shouted over the radio. "At least thirty men! Front and back assault!"
"Hold every entry!" I roared. "No one gets upstairs!"
Gunfire and chaos. Elena burst in with Stella, hysterical. Stella cried. I felt my chest tear, but I had to stay sharp.
"Don!" Dmitri's voice crackled. "They broke through the first-floor line! They're coming up!"
"Stop them!"
I ran to the stairwell and opened fire. Bodies went down—one, two, three—but there were too many. My men bled. Walls were spattered with blood. Shell casings pinged and rolled. Half an hour of hell. Then the firing thinned. Then it stopped.
"They're all down!" Artyom gasped in the hallway, blood on his face.
I leaned against the wall, panting. "Count the casualties."
"On it."
I stepped to the bedroom and knocked. Elena opened the door, pale, holding Stella, who'd been crying with red-rimmed eyes.
"It's over." I hugged them both. "You're safe."
But it wasn't over. My phone rang. Sergey, one of my top men in New York.
"Don, New York was hit."
My stomach sank. "What?"
"Salvatore hit three of our locations simultaneously," Sergey said fast. "He's splitting us, Don—trying to pin you here."
"Fuck!" I growled. "How bad?"
"Two houses destroyed. Dozens wounded, two dead. We took out a number of his men, too."
I closed my eyes and breathed slowly. Salvatore had played it smart: split attacks to stretch us thin.
"I need to go to New York," I told Elena. "They hit our turf. I have to be there."
"And us?" Her voice went small.
"Come with me. I won't leave you here."
She bit her lip and looked at Stella. "My studio—"
"Fuck the studio!" I nearly shouted. "Elena, did you see what happened?"
"I know!" she answered, raising her voice. "But Igor, I can't just abandon everything I built—my work, my friends, my life."
"What about your life?" I snapped. "What about Stella's life?"
"Stop it." Stella sobbed between us. "Daddy, Mommy, stop yelling."
We both froze. She was a child with giant, tear-streaked cheeks.
"I'm sorry, baby." Elena hugged her. "I'm sorry."
I inhaled and steadied myself. "Please. Come to New York with me."
She shook her head, and tears fell. "I can't. This is where I rebuilt myself. I can't run away to New York."
She wasn't wrong. Her concern made sense.
"And besides," she said, "they were here today. They won't come again so soon. You can go handle New York. We'll wait until you come back."
"You can't promise that." I cut her off.
"You can't promise New York is any safer," she shot back. "Salvatore's men are everywhere. Running won't change that."
We stared at each other, breathing hard. Stella whimpered in Elena's arms.
"So what do you want to do?" I asked finally, exhausted.
"Let me stay," she said. "Me and Stella will stay in the apartment. We won't leave. You go handle New York and come back when it's over."
"And if they hit the apartment again?"
"Your men will protect us," she said, nodding. "Like today."
I looked at her stubborn face and realized I couldn't make her change her mind. I couldn't force her to uproot everything she'd fought for.
"Fine." I relented. "I'll beef up security. And you and Stella stay inside. No going out. Understood?"
She nodded. "Okay."
"Stella." I looked at my daughter. "Promise me—no leaving the apartment. Stay with Mom."
She nodded hard, tears still wet on her lashes. "I promise."
I kissed her forehead, then Elena. "I'll handle New York and come back fast."
"Be careful," she said.
"I will," I promised. "I'm going to marry you. I'm going to watch Stella grow up. I'm not giving that to anyone."
She smiled through her tears. "You jerk."