Chapter 32 #4
I almost laugh at the amazement in his voice. They have no idea how much I’ve learned just to keep an eye on them all these years.
I know where Victoria’s ballet studio is, and which song—Debussy’s “Clair de Lune”—she plays on repeat when she’s having a rough day.
I know Roman rescued Niko’s secretary and the secret she’s hiding from him.
Hell, I even know under which tree in that quiet park they all meet when a big decision looms.
“We’re pretty good with a keyboard and computer,” I admit, unable to hide the pride in my voice.
I’m about to turn and leave the office when Roman stops me with a question.
“When will you return here?”
I don’t know my brother that well—not really—but I recognize that tone. It’s the same one I use when I need something but don’t want to ask outright.
“You need something.” There’s no edge to my voice, just genuine curiosity.
“We have a mole, as you already know. I might need assistance in this area that you and Julia excel at. Luna won't be able to handle it alone.”
I can’t help the way my heart tightens, knowing he actually needs me, that he’s asking for my help straight out.
I glance at Julia. She gives me that warm look, the one that says she understands everything about what it means to finally have a real bond with a sibling. Just knowing I can help, that I’m no longer on the outside, does something strange to my chest.
“We need to leave now for the airport if we want to reach Moscow tonight,” Julia tells them, pressing a slip of paper into Roman’s hand. “If you need anything, you have our numbers here. We'll be back in two days.”
Together, we head toward the door.
Roman calls after us, “Any idea why your company would line the Irish's pockets to push us out?” My twin is suddenly all business, shoulders squared like he’s back in a boardroom.
I always knew Ivan had his fingers in a dozen companies in Russia, always looking for an in, never satisfied with the ground he already controlled.
“As you know, Ivan has connections with the Russian Bratva. Aleksandr is his nephew, and he handles everything that happens here. My suspicion is he wanted to steal the territory to impress Ivan.”
That reminds me that I have zero idea where Aleksandr is now. Last I heard from Akim, he wasn’t in Moscow, but I know he’s been told Ivan is dead. I’d bet my life Ivan left him nothing, which makes him unpredictable.
“I'll clean up with the Irish after the funeral,” I tell Roman, and I see his brow crease.
“Does he know about your connection to us?” he asks, and the truth is, I don’t know. Is Aleksandr sharp enough to put all the pieces together? Maybe.
“It's a possibility,” Julia answers, and I catch the slight tremor in her voice. If Aleksandr has been digging into my past, he might know about her too. Worry pools in her honey-gold eyes.
Instinctively, I reach out and take her hand. No one’s going to lay a finger on her family—not while I’m here. I need her to believe that.
“If you need anything, message me at the numbers Julia gave you. If Aleksandr knows about the connection, you should watch yourself on the street, Roman,” I warn. Aleksandr might not be the best player in the game, but he’s got plenty of resources.
Julia voices what we’re all thinking. “Same goes for everyone else. Aleksandr would rather go after a woman he considers weak than attack you directly.”
Her words hang in the air. No one’s truly safe until we finish the business in Russia.
“If you need help in Russia, call us,” Roman says, and I wasn’t expecting that from him.
It sends something warm spiraling through my chest, and I just nod. “I’ll remember that.”
On the way out, I feel Julia trembling with worry, so I call one of my most trusted men, sending him to Ciudad de Mexico, where her sisters live with their uncle.
“If anything happens to them, Max…,” Julia whispers, her voice shaking, and I can’t stand the way that sounds.
I know what it’s cost her to keep her distance all these years, to stay in the shadows with me. Even if she always says she doesn’t regret it, I still feel like I don’t deserve a sacrifice like that.
I can’t imagine living a single day without her—without the sweetness of her scent, without the salt air that clings to her skin. But part of me always wonders if, someday, she’ll hate me for it—that she gave up too much.
Suddenly, her pinky hooks around mine. I look up, and she meets my eyes. “I’m right where I’m supposed to be, Max. My worry for them won’t go away, not even when I have them close. But I’m not leaving you.”
I nod, but the doubt lingers. What if she regrets it someday? What if she wants to move and live with her sisters when this is all over?
We’ve never really talked about what happens after the plan finally works—it always felt too far off, too fragile to hope for. But now? Now it’s real. Tomorrow is coming, and neither of us knows what to expect.
We board the private jet, and I move like a ghost until we’re airborne.
Julia leans into me, her arms draping over my shoulders. “Come back to me,” she whispers, her lips just a breath from mine.
“Do you wish you’d left back then?” My voice wavers.
It’s a pathetic question, but if she says yes, if she wants out, I’d take her to her sisters myself, no matter how much it breaks me.
I’m selfish with her laughter, her touch, every golden inch of skin that glows next to mine, but I’ll never be selfish with her happiness.
For a moment, she just looks at me, searching my face for something.
“Not even for a second,” she whispers, kissing the corner of my mouth.
“Not even if I knew I’d never see them again.
” Her lips find mine, soft and sure, and her hand covers my chest, right over my heartbeat.
“Because if I wasn’t with you, I wouldn’t know how to breathe.
I couldn’t be the sister they need, because my heart would still be here with you. ”
I pull her closer, my hand settling at her waist. The need that always rises in me when she’s near, others might call it obsession, even madness.
I know my mind is damaged, haunted by memories that shake me at night, but if anyone could put me back together, piece by piece, it would be her.
That smile, brighter than every star in the sky.
That touch that feels like it washes every scar from my skin.
Her body—she’s made me a believer, and I know I don’t deserve any of it: to touch her, to hear her gasp my name when I push her to her edge, to see her face right after. No one deserves a privilege like that.
?
We spend the flight catching up on the sleep we’ve barely had lately, knowing we’ll need it soon enough.
As the plane touches down in Moscow, heavy snow is falling, the cold biting at my face. I zip my coat, take Julia’s hand, and lead her toward Akim, who’s waiting by the SUV.
He gives me a smile, and that’s all it takes—I know he understands what we’ve just claimed. We’ve taken back some of our power.
“Did everything go as planned?” I ask as we approach.
He just nods, and we drive on one last trip back to the estate that’s given me nothing but nightmares.
Ivan’s lawyer is waiting outside. I find myself grinning when I see he’s been kept out in the snow, even with drifts up to his ankles.
“Carrol, good to see you,” I say.
He practically flinches backward.
Everyone in Ivan’s circle knows me as his secret weapon. The shadow assassin, the one he sent after anybody who ever got in his way.
“Mr. Rastovski.” He nods, a little too low, and I half expect a bow, but I just gesture for him to follow me inside.
In the office, we sit and Carrol pulls out a stack of paperwork from his briefcase.
“As you’re aware, you’re the sole heir to all his properties, accounts, and…other activities.” He drops his gaze, unable to hold my eyes.
Because he knows what Ivan did. He never stopped him. Never reported him. Just sat and watched like a leashed dog while thousands of lives were crushed.
“Aleksandr?” I ask.
“A bank account worth one hundred thousand dollars.”
I know my cousin’s got plenty stashed away somewhere, but I can’t help but feel a wicked satisfaction that all Ivan left him was the dirt under his shoes.
No matter how hard Aleksandr tried, in Ivan’s eyes he was always too soft. He always picked on people weaker than him, and even if he liked the power, Ivan always saw him as replaceable.
Maybe that’s why Ivan never made him an heir. He liked my violence, my efficiency. I was never asked to participate in his taste for children, but he used me to eliminate his enemies, clean up his messes.
Maybe, after all the torture, he thought I’d be drawn to blood, not innocence.
For over an hour, I sign documents, familiarizing myself with the accounts, the companies, and the connections, an endless web. This man built an entire trafficking empire, blackmailing the powerful to look away.
I stare at a list of names, sums of money beside each. The next targets for Smert are right here, in print. The numbers choke me. Billions made off misery. Hundreds of people involved across more than twenty countries.
“Max, it’s time,” Akim calls from the door.
Two hours gone, just like that. Now for the final step.
?
The drive to the factory is silent, twenty miles of black road cutting through white snow. Somewhere along the way, I find my voice.
“Will they be there?” I ask.
Akim just nods. When I laid out this plan, I knew I couldn’t be there when Ivan took his last breath. It nearly made me back out because there’s a lot I don’t deserve in this world—not after everything I’ve done, but I deserved to see the terror in his eyes before the end.
Snow crunches under my boots and I take a single, grounding breath before Akim and I push open the rusted factory door.
Two bulbs hang from the ceiling, casting harsh light through the stench of alcohol and rot. In the center of the vast, empty hall is the man who could never bleed enough to pay for what he’s done.
His eyes go wide when he sees me, and I realize I’m smiling as I say, “Glad to see you’re awake, Dad .”