Chapter 26
Chapter Twenty-Six
Sienna
When I first met Nico, I never would have believed him capable of being nervous. Yet now, the morning after the sting operation and questioning with Adrian, he shifts uncomfortably in his seat.
"Are you alright?" I inquire.
He takes my hand, squeezing it reassuringly. I love when he does that—the supportiveness, the warmth, the sense of solidarity. "You know what I’m thinking."
"You want me to stay here?
"You know I do. I could make you stay behind."
"Before this ends, I need to look him in the eye. I want him to realize he didn’t get away with killing my mom. Just give me that, please, then I'll leave. Then you... can do what’s necessary."
"I'm going to execute him, piccola pittrice , for what he did to you and for what he's done to so many others. He's a bad man, and I should've taken him out long ago."
"You wanted to keep the city safe and prevent a war."
"Yes, and now Viktor has miscalculated badly. Before, the best way to prevent another war was to work with him... Now, the most effective way is putting a bullet through his skull."
A shiver cascades through me. Fear? Anticipation? Perhaps it's a combination of the two. I adjust the bulletproof vest Nico insisted I wear – he's similarly protected beneath his tailored suit.
I look across the street at the Cattle and Vine, watching as a couple emerges into the crystalline morning sunlight.
“Want me to call Rachael for an update?"
"Excellent idea," he says.
I call my old employer. "Hey, hon."
"Hey – how's the situation looking inside?"
"Just one more table, then the only people in the house are Russians."
"Perfect. The final table. Do they look like they’re going to be there for a while?"
"They're almost done with their desserts."
"Great."
"Great?" Rachael echoes incredulously. "One minute I'm your boss, yelling at you like, let's face it, the most unhinged woman this side of Fort Worth. The next you're calling me up saying you’ll pay me a month’s wages if I keep tabs on the restaurant and empty the place when 'it's time' – whatever that means."
“The less you know, the better," I explain. "But rest assured, you're doing a good thing. I guarantee it. Keep me posted."
"Consider it done, hon."
I disconnect. "Almost time."
"This was an excellent idea," Nico declares with unmistakable pride. "He would have detected any of my men surveilling him, but the Vine's staff isn’t on his radar."
"The Vine is supposed to be neutral territory, right?" I contemplate aloud. "Will there be repercussions from this? What – why are you looking at me with that expression?"
"You're the most remarkably adaptable woman I've ever met. Mere weeks ago, you had no knowledge of organized crime, yet now you’re speaking like a seasoned mafia queen."
"I wouldn’t go that far."
He caresses my cheek with that disarming tenderness that consistently catches me off guard. "It's not. I know I keep saying it, but I'm genuinely proud of you. Your mother would be too."
Tears well in my eyes as I lean into his kiss. It's passionate, explosive, igniting a hunger within me that I struggle to ignore. "Thank you," I whisper against his lips.
"You're incredible, Sienna," he murmurs. "Before you entered my life, I thought myself incapable of forming genuine connections. I had resigned myself to being a cold, distant, grump forever."
"I like your grumpy face. Even if we fall..." In love. I stop myself. Too far, too fast... isn't it? "For each other, I still want to see that grumpy face occasionally. If only for artistic inspiration."
He smirks. "Agreed."
"And regarding my question earlier..."
He hesitates before nodding. "Will there be consequences from using the Vine?" He shakes his head, his demeanor becoming savage. "They forfeited any claim to decency the moment they trapped you in that bathroom within supposedly neutral territory. All bets are off now."
He gently smooths my hair from my face, tucking it behind my ear. Warm sensations cascade throughout my body. "I'm profoundly grateful our paths crossed, Vignette."
“Me too," I respond sincerely.
"Are you sure? You had a normal life before I came along. Challenging, marked by tragedy and tribulations, but fundamentally normal. Civilian."
"I've experienced more during these few weeks with you – has it really only been a few weeks? – than throughout the last four years. You've awakened things inside me... aspects I never recognized existed."
I stop when I hear how emotional I’m getting. "Maybe we should save this conversation for later... when this is all over. When we can finally exhale."
As if on cue, additional patrons exit the Vine. My phone trills.
"Hon, it's me," Rachael announces, her breathing accelerated. "You want staff evacuated through the back exit, right?"
"Everyone," I confirm. "Make sure they’re safe."
"As you should be," Nico growls when I end the call.
"Two people are responsible for my mom's death. I refuse to sit here passively while you do what needs to be done."
He lowers his gaze. "Perhaps I don’t want you to see me like that. Murderous. Savage. Untamed."
"If you’re afraid I’m going to stop..." Again, that elusive L-word surfaces impossibly. "Caring about you because you're taking drastic measures against the man who ruined my life, you're profoundly mistaken. He deserves whatever is waiting for him."
“There’s no argument there. He's a trafficker, a sadist, an irredeemable man."
"Then let's go."
We climb from the car together and cross the street. Simultaneously, dozens of suited men emerge from nearby vehicles and fall in behind us. Occasionally, I forget how powerful Nico is, but when his men form an army behind us, his power becomes undeniable.
“Stay behind me at all times," he instructs.
"Just like the first time you saved me here."
He laughs savagely before retrieving his gun from its holster. He advances into the restaurant, gun raised. I follow closely, maintaining my position behind him. The bulletproof vest provides less reassurance than I previously thought. A palpable atmosphere of impending violence permeates the air as his men file into the room, weapons drawn.
Viktor glances up, a thin smile distorting his features. Two additional men sit at his table... one of whom, I realize, is the man who mocked me that first time. Anya is present as well, sporting a fresh bruise on her cheek. She appears smaller compared to her presence at the ball, less imposing. I realize I may have misjudged her.
"I must be mistaken," Viktor remarks. "I was under the impression this ground was neutral territory."
"You forfeited that privilege when you attempted to use my cousin against me, you bastard," Nico snarls, then gestures broadly. "Men – confiscate their weapons."
Nico's men approach the table, weapons trained. They strip the three Russian men of various knives and firearms before positioning them against the wall. Anya remains seated, regarding her father with the aura of a beaten puppy. Something in the resentment etched across her features suggests her father gave her that bruise.
"There’s someone important who has something to say before this ends," Nico announces, aiming his words directly at Viktor. "Any movement, sound, or even a breath I find suspicious – and your end will be excruciating." He shifts slightly, creating space for me.
I glare at Viktor. "You likely don't even remember me." His vacant expression confirms my suspicion. "And you certainly don’t remember my mother. But you killed her, Viktor Barinov. You ordered Adrian to attack someone in public... resulting in the death of the woman I cherished above all else, the woman who r-raised me." I suppress a sob. "There’s no excuse for what you did. To my mother, this city, and by the look of it, your own daughter."
“Are you done, girl?" Viktor inquires dismissively.
"I didn’t expect remorse given your character."
"Any last words, Viktor?" Nico demands.
"Anya... I've always loved you. I merely wanted what was best for you. You understand what must be done, sweet child."
"If you've given her instructions to carry out after your death, rest assured, they'll prove futile. This city doesn't belong to the Russians. Not entirely. Not even marginally."
"Who said anything about after my death? Anya!"
Suddenly, Anya lets out a cry and springs to her feet. She’s been hiding a gun beneath the table, aiming directly at me – not at Nico or his men, but specifically at me.
"Good," Viktor says. "Yes – he won't let anything happen to her. Don’t move, Nico." His tone darkens when Nico tries to shield me. "Or my daughter will splatter her brains across the floor."
"Anya, don’t do anything foolish," Nico warns. "This won’t end well for you."
"Ignore him," Viktor snaps. "Honorable Nico would never hurt a woman. Even if you put down his dog, he wouldn't retaliate against you."
Fear threatens to overwhelm me, but a stronger emotion prevails. Rage. First, this monster manipulated another to take my mother's life. Now he's exploiting his own daughter to extricate himself from the consequences of his actions.
"Who gave you that bruise, Anya?" I challenge. "I suspect your father. I think he's hit you before and will do it again. In fact, I think Nico isn't just doing the world a favor by getting rid of him. He’s doing you a favor."
"Remember what you said to me at the party, Anya," Nico interjects. "You recognize your father isn’t a good man. You know justice demands this outcome."
“Don’t listen to him," Viktor growls.
"I've dreamed of this," Anya whispers.
"Hear that?" Viktor gloats. "She's fantasized about putting you down, Nico."
"I've dreamed of the Italians taking over the city. I've dreamed of being more your prop, your ornament. I've dreamed of ending your abuse."
"With your father done, succession falls to you," Nico states. "I know you want to keep this city safe. You were never going to be my companion – my heart belongs exclusively to one woman. But as the Bratva queen, you could?—"
Anya unleashes a scream unlike anything I've heard. It tears through the air like a canvas shredding beneath a blade – not merely deafening, but multidimensional, as if layered repeatedly, each stroke representing another year of suppressed anguish. If sound could bleed, this would leave crimson streaks.
"Enough!" she exclaims, glaring at her father. "I refuse to hear anymore. I refuse to listen to your vicious lies. You've done unspeakable atrocities, Father... against those girls in the warehouses, the ones you brought home and forced me to witness as you, as you..."
"Now, Anya, compose yourself?—"
"No!"
She redirects her aim toward her father.
Instantaneously, Nico shields me behind him as additional men encircle us protectively.
"I’m not your plaything anymore."
My ears ring with the gunshot's reverberations. Viktor's body jerks as the bullet throws his head back. He slides down the wall, leaving a crimson trail behind.
Anya turns toward us, trembling violently. Deliberately, she lowers her weapon. "I’ll never be happy again," she says tragically.
I push past Nico, cross the room, and extend my arms toward her. She looks at me with astonishment, seemingly bewildered by a stranger's compassion. Yet this experience has taught me that "stranger" doesn’t always mean a lot.
After a momentary hesitation, she collapses into my arms like a lost little girl, erupting into uncontrollable sobs.
"It's over now," I whisper consolingly. "Whatever he did to you, it’s over now. You're safe."
Two additional gunshots reverberate, followed by two thuds as the remaining men crumple to the floor, and then silence descends.
The city is safe.
My mother's killers have faced ultimate justice.
“Clean this mess up," Nico commands. "I'm taking my woman home."