Chapter 27 #2
Maksim gestures to the bar as we pass, offering a glass of something amber and expensive. “Drink?” he asks, all politeness and old-world hospitality.
I shake my head, my stomach twisting. “No, thank you. Not tonight.”
He watches me for a moment, then shrugs, leading us toward the quieter end of the club. Once Dante is distracted by a bouncer asking about VIP security, Maksim leans in, voice low. “Adriana, what are you really doing here? Is this about your sister?”
For a second, my heart stutters. He still thinks I’m searching for Julianne. “I…I just need some closure. That’s all.”
Maksim’s eyes narrow, searching my face. “Julianne was never here. Not that I saw, anyway. Don’t tell your father I said that. But the guy she was seeing—he came around plenty.
I blink, surprised. “You know about Luka?”
He raises a brow. “Strange that she told you. Julianne was secretive about him. Never introduced us, never talked about him in front of anyone. How did you hear about him?”
I force a casual shrug, hoping he can’t read my nerves. “Julianne told me. Eventually. She didn’t want to keep it a secret forever.”
He studies me, then gives a slow smile. “You Petrova girls are always better at hiding things than you look.”
I lean in, pressing Maksim just a little. “So what else do you know about Luka?”
He gives a tight smile. “Not as much as I’d like. Listen—I’ll have my security guy find you if you want to ask more.” With that, he nods, then disappears into the crowd, already moving on.
Dante appears at my side, brow raised. “What were you two talking about?”
I keep my voice casual, watching Maksim’s retreating back. “Just Julianne. He still seems a little hung up, honestly.”
Dante shrugs, a little smirk on his lips. “Really? I always thought Maksim had his eye on someone else.”
I open my mouth to reply, but my attention snags on a familiar figure in the crowd—a flash of Mik’s face in the shifting lights. My heart jumps. He sees me, then his gaze lands on Dante, and he immediately tries to disappear into the dance floor.
I don’t hesitate. I slip away from Dante and chase after Mik, weaving between groups of club-goers, catching him by the arm near the exit.
He jerks away, eyes wild. “Stay away from me, crazy lady,” he hisses, voice panicked. “You want to get me killed? Your husband will kill me.”
I’m confused. “Excuse me?”
“I don’t need any trouble. Listen, you should have told me who you were before you started the mess.”
“I’ve no idea what you’re talking about,” I say.
He gulps. “Let me go, please. You want to know about Samie? I don’t know shit. But Moe might. She disappeared before Samie. Last I heard, she was fished out of the river, but she didn’t die. She’s…admitted somewhere.”
“Admitted where?” I press, my voice urgent.
Mik’s eyes dart past me, and he suddenly goes pale. Without another word, he spins and bolts into the crowd, vanishing before I can grab him again.
I turn, breathless, just in time to see Dante striding toward me, his expression tense. My mind races with Mik’s warning, the name Moe echoing in my head.
What was that about? I wonder, trying to piece together what I’m missing.
I turn to Dante. “Why was that man scared of you?”
He shrugs. “Everyone is scared of me, Adriana. Except you, of course.”
I look at him suspiciously. I have a feeling there’s something he’s not telling me.
My phone vibrates with a message from Maksim: Security’s waiting for you on the first floor. Ask for Ivan. He’ll show you what’s left of the footage.
I glance at Dante, but he’s already distracted by a group of men in suits waving him over—business or old enemies, I can’t tell. I wait a moment, but impatience gets the best of me. I slip away, weaving through the crowd and up the stairs.
At the end of the first-floor hallway, a broad-shouldered man in a club jacket is waiting, arms crossed. “You must be the one who wanted the footage?” he asks, voice low but not unfriendly.
“Yeah,” I say, trying to sound casual. “Thanks for helping.”
He shrugs, unlocks a door marked “Staff Only,” and gestures me inside. “You’ve got the room to yourself. Just shut the door when you’re done.” He doesn’t ask any questions, just leaves me with the small bank of monitors and a folder of digital files.
I settle into the chair, pull out my notebook, and start scrolling through what’s left of the footage. Most of it is patchy, some files completely gone, but there’s enough to cross-reference with the dates and times in my notes. Anya’s. Samie’s.
I play the videos side by side, flipping back and forth, eyes burning as hour after hour flickers past on the screen. It’s tedious, slow work—until one frame makes me freeze.
On a grainy, timestamped shot, I see Anya. She’s being dragged through a dim corridor near the back entrance, struggling against the grip of a tall man. I lean forward, heart pounding. The man turns his head, just enough for the camera to catch his face.
Luka.
I gasp, covering my mouth, the world narrowing to the flickering screen. My mind reels. Julianne’s Luka. The one everyone said was just a bodyguard, just a boyfriend. My pen slips from my hand.
My mind races. Luka. Why would he…?
I rewind, staring at the footage, refusing to believe what I’m seeing. But the evidence is right there, captured on tape. And I suddenly realize just how little I really know about the man my sister ran away with.
I’m about to get up, my mind racing with the horror of what I’ve just seen, when I feel a presence behind me—a shadow in the doorway, then a hand in my hair, yanking my head back hard.
Rancid breath curls at my ear. “You never know when to stop, bitch.”
Pain explodes at my temple as my head cracks against the desk. The world spins. I twist, struggling, vision blurring. Remik’s face looms above me, twisted with rage, his grip bruising my scalp.
I gasp, clawing at his arm. Suddenly, the room erupts—a gunshot rings out so loud it’s like a flash of lightning right in my skull. Remik jolts, his eyes going wide, blood blooming at his shoulder.
He collapses on top of me, heavy and shaking. Behind him, Dante stands at the doorway, gun raised, face hard as stone. His voice is a snarl, pure violence.
“Don’t you fucking dare touch my wife.”
Remik goes still, blood soaking my sleeve. My heart thunders as Dante’s eyes lock on mine—furious, protective, and deadly.