Mihai
MIHAI
I climb into the driver’s seat, slamming the door harder than I mean to. My hands grip the steering wheel so tight my knuckles turn white.
Three days. It’s been three days since the hit, and now I’m babysitting some girl who hasn’t said a word since the murders. My father says she’s important. Fine . But this isn’t my job.
I’m still fuming when I hear Nikolai chuckling in the passenger seat, his feet kicked up on the dashboard like he owns the place.
“Meet her?” he asks, smirking without even looking at me.
“Yeah,” I mutter, jamming the key into the ignition. The engine roars to life, but I don’t pull out of the estate just yet. I need a second. Or maybe I need to hit something.
“Babysitting isn’t your thing, huh?” Nikolai continues, finally turning his head to look at me. His blue eyes glint with amusement, and I resist the urge to punch him. Barely.
“You think this is funny?” I snap, glaring at him. “I’m supposed to be handling real shit, not watching over some girl who can’t even talk.”
“Touchy.” He chuckles, clearly enjoying this way too much. “What’s the matter? You don’t like your new job? Maybe you’re afraid she’ll be too much work. Or maybe,” he pauses, tapping his chin theatrically, “you’re pissed because it’s not Sofia they’re asking you to look after. That’d be more fun, right?”
“Shut the fuck up, Nikolai,” I growl, finally pulling the car out of the driveway. The tires crunch against the gravel as we speed away from the estate. “This is bullshit, and you know it.”
He chuckles under his breath. “Yeah, but it’s your bullshit now.”
“I remember not too long ago when you had to play babysitter to Chiara, asshole.”
“And look how that turned out; she ended up getting engaged to G,” he says and I don’t miss the regretful look in his eye.
I grip the steering wheel harder, my jaw clenched tight. Nikolai’s always been like this—poking and prodding, never taking anything seriously unless it’s a direct threat to him.
“So, this Madison girl… she hot?” Nikolai asks, his tone too casual for my liking.
I shoot him a warning glance. “She’s not your type.”
Nikolai laughs, low and mocking. “Everyone’s my type.”
“She’s broken,” I snap, my patience running thin. “And off-limits.”
“Well, this feels familiar,” he says with a smirk. “What are you going to do if I decide to make her talk?”
“Nikolai, for fuck’s sake,” I growl.
“Right, right, the whole ‘I’m her bodyguard’ thing.” Nikolai taps his fingers on the armrest, eyes gleaming with amusement. “But seriously, what’s the plan? You’re gonna sit around holding her hand until she spills what she saw?”
“If it comes to that.”
He gives me a long look, but for once, he doesn’t push. Nikolai knows when to pull back, even if it’s a rare occurrence.
“Just don’t fuck it up, ,” he says, his voice taking on a more serious tone. “Your old man trusts you with this. I’m sure there’s a reason he didn’t put someone else on it.”
“Yeah, doesn’t mean I have to fucking like it.” I scoff, pressing the gas harder. The dark streets blur as we pass, but my mind’s not on the road—it’s on everything my father just threw in my lap.
I saw the look in those big brown eyes when I walked in. She’s broken, not just because of what she saw, but because of the guilt she’s carrying. I could see it written all over her face. But it’s not my job to fix that. My job is to keep her breathing, nothing more.
“I have a feeling she’ll surprise you,” Nikolai adds, breaking the silence again. “I mean, she’s got to be tough to still be alive after all that, right?”
“Doesn’t matter,” I reply coldly. “She’s just a means to an end. Once she talks, she’s not my problem anymore.”
We pull into the underground parking lot of my penthouse, and I kill the engine. Nikolai hops out before I do, stretching his arms overhead like he’s just had a nice, relaxing night. Meanwhile, I feel like I’ve been put through the wringer.
Inside my penthouse, Connor and Giovanni are already waiting.
Giovanni’s sitting on one of my leather couches drinking bourbon. While Connor’s sprawled on another couch, one arm slung over the back, his usual grin plastered across his face.
“Well, well, if it isn’t Daddy’s favorite boy,” Connor says as soon as I step inside. “How’s the new gig, ?”
“Fuck off, Con,” I snap, shrugging off my jacket and tossing it onto a chair. “This is serious.”
“Oh, we know,” Giovanni says, his voice low, measured. “We’ve heard all about your new assignment from our fathers.”
I shoot a glare his way. “Didn’t realize it was a topic for discussion.”
Connor chuckles, sitting up and leaning forward.
“What? We’re all just dyin’ to hear about this lass. Especially since you looked thrilled about it when you left earlier.”
I clench my teeth, pacing across the room. My penthouse feels too small with all of them in it, their eyes on me like I’m some kind of sideshow attraction.
“Madison Graves,” I say, finally stopping to face them. “5’5”, blond hair, brown eyes, the only witness to the Santiago Reyes hit and might have seen something she didn’t know was important. My father thinks she’s the key to the entire Reyes shitshow, and since he was fucking besties with Santiago, her protection detail falls on me, and by extension—us.”
Giovanni raises an eyebrow. “And she hasn’t spoken?”
“Not a word,” I confirm, running a hand through my hair. “Selective mutism due to trauma. Who the fuck knows.”
Connor whistles low under his breath. “Poor lass, that’s a tough break. You think she’ll ever talk?”
“She has to,” I say. “I’m supposed to keep her alive long enough for her to feel like talking.”
Giovanni leans forward, bracing his elbows on his knees.
“This isn’t just about keeping her alive, . If she talks, she could tip the scales in our favor. The Cartel is in chaos right now, and everyone knows Sofia is too young to take over. This is a power struggle, and your father’s playing the long game.”
“Yeah, I get that,” I reply, my voice tense. “But why me? Why not put someone else on this?”
Connor grins, leaning back on the couch again. “Because you’re the only one stubborn enough to keep her safe, even if you don’t want to.”
Giovanni nods, his eyes narrowing slightly. “Ion trusts you, . This is your chance to prove your worth as his heir.”
I laugh, the sound bitter and hollow. “Trust. Sure. Or maybe he just knows I can’t say no.”
“Either way,” Connor interrupts, “you’re stuck with her. How bad could it be? You’ve had worse jobs.”
I shoot him a look. “This isn’t about the job. It’s about the fact that we’re all walking on thin ice right now. A Crown is fucking dead, and we’re nowhere close to finding out who the fuck ratted out or killed Santiago.”
“Which is exactly why you can’t afford to fuck this up,” Giovanni says. “The mission is important because someone killed a Crown; it could be any one of us in the years to come. And I’d like to think you all would put the same fucking effort into avenging me if the same were to happen.”
The room goes silent for a moment, the weight of the situation settling over us like a heavy blanket. I know Giovanni’s right. He always is when it comes to shit like this.
It isn’t just about keeping Madison alive—it’s about keeping control. And right now, control is slipping through our fingers faster than I’d like.
I turn away, walking toward the large windows that overlook the city. The lights below blur together, a mix of neon and darkness that feels just as chaotic as everything swirling in my head.
“,” Nikolai’s voice cuts through the quiet, softer now, “you’ve got this. You’ve dealt with worse. Just keep your head on straight.”
I nod, though I don’t turn around. He’s right. I’ve been through hell before. But this… this feels different. It feels like there’s more at stake, like there’s no room for mistakes.
“Still,” I say, my voice firm, “the Cartels will want Madison dead, and if they find out where she is, they’ll stop at nothing to get to her.”
“We’ll be ready.” Giovanni drawls.
Turning, I lean back against the window behind me, crossing my arms over my chest.
“I don’t like this,” I admit quietly. “I don’t like that we’re relying on her to solve this mess.”
Nikolai rests a hand on my shoulder. “You don’t have to like it, . You just have to do your part.”
I sigh, nodding slightly. He’s right. I don’t have to like any of this. But I do have to see it through.
“Tomorrow morning,” I say, pushing off the wall. “We’ll get her out of here. After that, we’ll figure out what the next move is.”
Connor claps his hands together, his grin back in place. “Good. Let’s just get through this without any more drama, yeah?”
I shoot him a look. “This is us, Connor. There’s always drama.”
He laughs, shaking his head. “Aye, but a guy can hope. Besides, you literally fuckin’ handle The Day of Silence, this should be a piece of cake for you.”
We all collectively groan at Connor’s shitty joke, and I shake my head, feeling the tension ease just a little. These guys—they’re my family, my brothers. We’ve been through worse together, and we’ll get through this, too.
As long as Madison Graves doesn’t crack before we do.