Chapter 5
Chapter
Five
Fox
Once Kitten is out of earshot, I hear Alana and Dimitri exchange a few words in Russian. He motions for me to follow him into his office, and it’s worse than getting in trouble in school. My principal could only suspend me. Whatever is going to happen now is a million times worse.
Dimitri sets up his phone on the desk and I’m staring at a tiny version of the scariest woman I know. It’s true she does run a private security company, but she’s so much more.
I work for the Four Families, one of the criminal underworld’s most feared crime syndicates on the East Coast. That means I’m crime-adjacent—I have a vague understanding of how the world works, but I don’t have any power.
Alana is different. I don’t understand what she does or even how she’s connected to the Four Families. I can’t tell if she’s a puppet master or something worse. But she’s respected and feared, which makes her the most powerful woman in the criminal underworld.
And she’s super pissed at me.
“What the hell is going on?” she yells at me like I’m a kid. “Ryan, take off that shitty mask.”
A cold rush of air hits my skin as I remove the fabric from my face. My hair is spiked out in a million directions and Dimitri lets out a huff sort of laugh. It’s one of the reasons why I don’t like taking off the mask around other people.
“What do you mean?” Play dumb and don’t confess to anything.
“Why the fuck did you take my graphic designer to a sex club after she was attacked? Follow up, why is she coming back tomorrow?” Alana grinds her teeth and narrows her eyes. “How exactly did you get there?”
“There’s no answer I can give that won’t make you mad.”
“Probably not. So go with the truth.”
Keep it simple, stupid. “I saved her and we came here.”
She drags out the word like she’s talking to a child. “How?”
The words sound more like a mumble than an actual, coherent answer. “I took Bear’s motorcycle.”
Her face contorts with rage. “Are you fucking kidding me? You still have one month left!”
Dimitri flinches like her voice could do physical damage.
Because it can. Alana keeps track of everything.
Annoyingly, she’s been keeping track of my driving privileges too.
It’s not like I wanted to ride Bear’s bike, but there weren't any other options.
When I tell her that, she says something in Russian which makes Dimitri frown.
He counters back with something. Then he nods as he turns to me with pity in his eyes, as he mouths the word “sorry”.
Oh shit. Before I can tense up, his fist makes brutal contact with my stomach. The pain rips under my ribs, hot and blinding as I double over. Fuck. I can’t breathe.
Alana’s voice is sharp and menacing from the tiny speakers. “Don’t be fucking stupid.”
I cough a few times and the pain subsides, but still lingers. I lift my head and look at the phone. Her left eyebrow is cocked and her scowl is permanently tattooed on her face. “There’s a short list of people I like. She’s on the list, you are not.”
“Am I on that list?” Dimitri asks like a hopeful little kid about to open a Christmas gift.
She rolls her eyes. “Sometimes.” She exhales loud enough for the speaker to pick up on it.
“Leave the bike at the club. Dimitri, call him a cab.” Really?
That’s what she’s concerned about? Me riding the bike home.
Alana speaks in a slow, dark tone. “Do not fuck this up with my graphic designer. If you hurt her, I’ll shoot your kneecaps. ” The screen goes blank.
“Jesus,” Dimitri says under his breath. “Even I wasn’t that fucking scary when I was in the Bratva.”