33. Maxim
33
MAXIM
I t’s late. Veronica lies next to me in bed, her body curled into mine like she’s afraid to let go. The room is dark, shadows stretching across the walls as the faint hum of the city filters through the windows.
Her breathing is shallow, uneven, and I know she’s not asleep. I can feel the tension radiating off her, even though her hand rests lightly on my chest.
“You’re thinking too loudly,” I murmur, staring at the ceiling, my arm draped loosely around her.
She doesn’t laugh like she normally would. Instead, she shifts, her head pressing into my shoulder.
“I can’t stop thinking about it,” she whispers. “About him. About what I did. I’m a killer. I’m just like you. I saw you kill that guy and I hated you but when I saw Marco looking up at me, I felt the same as you. He had to die, didn’t he?”
I close my eyes, my jaw tightening. I don’t want to talk about Marco, not now, not ever again. He’s gone. He deserved it. But I can feel the weight of her words, the tremble in her voice. It’s not going away for her.
“He deserved it. You did what had to be done. You acted. He can’t hurt you anymore.”
Her body tenses against mine, and I hate the way she pulls back, just slightly. Not enough to break the contact, but enough for me to notice. Enough for me to feel the distance growing between us.
“It’s not that simple,” she says, her voice cracking. “I killed someone, Maxim. I took a life.”
I turn my head, looking at her. Her eyes are wide, glassy with unshed tears, and there’s something raw in her expression that twists something deep inside me.
“It is that simple,” I say, my tone sharp. “He would’ve killed you, Veronica. Or worse.”
She looks at me like she doesn’t recognize me, and for a moment, I hate myself. But this is what I am. What I’ve always been. She just hadn’t seen it up close until now.
Her voice is barely audible when she asks, “How do you live with it?”
I exhale slowly, my hand sliding away from her waist as I sit up. I don’t look at her when I answer. “You don’t think about it. You move forward. That’s how.”
The silence between us is thick, suffocating. I stand, running a hand through my hair, and walk to the window. The city lights glitter below, a reminder of everything I’ve built, everything I’ve fought for.
Her eyes fill with tears, and I force myself to hold her gaze, even though it feels like I’m being ripped apart.
“Maxim…”
“Get some sleep,” I cut her off, my voice soft but firm.
As she falls still, I leave the bed and sit in the armchair by the window, staring out at the city. When she wakes up, I’ll tell her the truth. She has a right to know.
My phone buzzes. I glance down at it. Vito Lombardi.
Meet.
I type back.
When and where.
Now. Eddington. Floor Six. Abide by the Code.
I hear the soft creak of the garage door before it opens. I don’t turn immediately. I know it’s her.
“Maxim.”
Her voice is steady, but there’s an edge to it—a sadness she’s trying to bury. “Where are you going?”
I turn, meeting her eyes. She looks tired, her hair loose around her shoulders, her hands clasped in front of her as though she’s bracing herself for something.
“Go back to bed,” I tell her. “We’ll talk in the morning.”
“We need to talk now,” she says, stepping further into the room. “There’s something I need to tell you.”
I unlock the car. “Can’t it wait?”
She hesitates, and for a moment, I see something flicker across her face—uncertainty, maybe, or resolve. “You’re going to kill Vito, aren’t you?”
“Yes,” I say simply. There’s no use sugarcoating it.
She lets out a slow breath, her fingers flexing. “And what happens after?”
I kiss her forehead but I feel her stiffen at my touch. “We’ll talk when I get back, I promise.”
The car glides to a stop outside the steel and glass building, its towering facade lit by cold, artificial light.
The place reeks of power, not the kind built on respect, but the kind that’s grown rotten. It’s fitting for a man like Vito Lombardi.
I step out, my gun tucked against my side beneath my coat, and nod at Ivan, who stays behind the wheel. “Wait here.”
“You sure you don’t want back up?” Ivan asks, his tone neutral, but I catch the flicker of unease in his eyes.
“We abide by the Code,” I say. “Just me and him, two bosses talking.”
“You obey the Code.” He sighs. “But what if Lombardi doesn’t?”
“Without honor, we have nothing, Ivan.”
“Noble sentiment but you’re talking about the guy who gave you that scar. Who’ll be Pakhan, oh great wise leader, if he kills you?”
“Not you if you don’t quit with that shit.” I check my gun. “Relax. I know what I’m doing.”
I leave him behind and head for the entrance. The door is unlocked, swinging open under my touch. The building is deathly quiet.
The interior is designed to intimidate—black marble floors, mirrored walls, and gold trim that only makes the place feel more sinister.
My footsteps echo in the cavernous lobby as I scan for signs of life.
Nothing.
A chill creeps down my spine. This isn’t right.
I keep moving, my hand resting lightly on the grip of my gun. My senses are sharp, my pulse steady.
Vito doesn’t strike me as the type to let a man like me walk into his domain without some kind of reception.
Abide by the Code that rules us all. Russian Pakhan to Italian Don. We’ll talk about Marco’s death, come to terms. Then I’ll kill him anyway. Because fuck honor, this is more important.
I reach the end of the hallway and push open a heavy double door. It groans loudly, revealing a large, empty room.
The only light comes from a TV screen on the far wall, its flickering glow casting distorted shadows across the polished floor.
The screen crackles to life, and there he is—Vito Lombardi, his oily smirk filling the frame.
“Maxim,” he drawls, leaning back in his chair as though we’re old friends catching up. “Surprised to see you abiding by the Code.”
“Not surprised to find you breaking it,” I reply. “Too chickenshit to come in person?”
He chuckles, the sound grating. “You won’t find me here. I’m alive because I’m smarter than my nephew, may he rest in peace.”
My jaw clenches. He’s baiting me, and I know it.
“Get to the point,” I say coldly, my voice steady.
Vito leans forward, his face filling the screen. “You’ve made quite the mess, Maxim. Killing my nephew, disrupting my operations. You think you can just take over your little empire and I won’t respond?”
“You’re welcome to try,” I reply evenly, but my grip on the gun tightens.
His smirk widens. “Oh, I will. But not today. I knew you’d come to kill me, I’m no fool. But I prefer to play the long game.”
I take a step closer to the screen, my muscles coiled. “What are you getting at?”
Vito’s eyes soften. “You killed my nephew. I have the right to fight back but that wife of yours needn’t be a part of this.”
“Get to the point.”
“I’ll give you twenty-four hours to get her out of your place, send her back to that shitty humdrum life of hers.”
“And then what?”
“Then me and you go to war. Well, you and my lieutenants. I’m staying out of the country for now. Both sides fill the streets with blood until one of us emerges victorious at last, rules over New York forever.”
“And if I refuse?”
He shrugs. “Then I have no choice but to kill you both. I’m not a fan of killing women but if you push me, I will push back. Your choice.”
The screen goes black.