Chapter 33
Kazimir
My watch ticks past midnight while the engine beneath our feet idles in a slow, steady rhythm that vibrates through the metal table between us. The sound is constant and mechanical. It’s noise a man forgets about until everything else goes quiet.
Out here in the bay, the city lights are distant smears of gold along the shoreline.
The boat rocks just enough to remind me that we are floating in dark water with nothing but open space on every side.
It is not a glamorous vessel, just an old party fishing boat we confiscated years ago.
The deck scrubbed but permanently stained.
The benches are bolted down; the air scented with diesel and old bait.
It looks forgettable, which is exactly why I chose it.
Anyone approaching will be visible from half a mile away.
Anyone stupid enough to try something will die before they reach us.
Across the metal table, Ryder leans back in the chair like this is a late-night outing instead of a kidnapping.
Her hands are tied behind her back, wrists bound tight with zip ties, yet she looks comfortable. Amused, even.
She is beautiful in a sharp, dangerous way, with Hinto’s bone structure stamped across her features like a signature. High cheekbones. Clever eyes. A mouth that looks built for smiling at men right before she ruins them.
She can’t be more than twenty-two. He must have had her young.
When we grabbed the heir referenced in the dossier, every one of my men expected a spoiled son. Some soft, arrogant boy who had never been hit in the face.
Instead, we got this.
A woman who hasn’t stopped smirking since we pulled her hood off. I’d recognized her once I got a good look at her. She’d been at the hangar that day. I saw her slip away while I murdered her father’s men.
Her gaze drags over me slowly, assessing, like she’s cataloging every scar and tattoo.
“Smart move,” she murmurs, voice low and smoky. “You found the one way to guarantee my father backs off.”
Her eyes narrow playfully.
“But what now?”
I rest my forearms on the table and study her the way I would study a weapon. Based on how quickly we got a response, it’s obvious Hinto is attached to her, and by the conversation she keeps, it’s also obvious that she’s sharp. An asset to him, not just an heir.
“We already got word,” I say, my voice even. “Alyona is being driven back to my home outside Savannah.”
Something tight in my chest loosens just enough to breathe.
“When she arrives safely and your father’s men leave the premises, you’ll be returned. Neutral territory. Unharmed.”
Ryder tilts her head, considering me like I’m an interesting puzzle.
“So this is just business,” she says.
“It always is.”
From the corner, Liev shifts.
He hasn’t sat down once. He stands with his arms crossed, shoulders tight, glaring at her like she personally insulted his bloodline. She’s had nothing to do with it, though. I recall her words, gasped out when Liev grabbed her hours ago: I told him this was a stupid fucking idea.
Liev looks like he’s two seconds away from snapping something with his bare hands.
Ryder notices immediately. She flashes him a slow, deliberate smile that is pure trouble.
“What?” she says lightly. “You planning to stare me to death, old man?”
Liev’s jaw clenches.
“I’m not old.”
She raises a brow. “Sure.”
His face actually goes red.
Red.
I haven’t seen that since we were teenagers fighting over stolen cigarettes behind a market in Prague.
A rough chuckle rumbles out of me before I can stop it. Both of them look at me.
It surprises me how absurd the moment feels. We’re on a fishing boat in the middle of the bay, holding a cartel boss’s daughter hostage while planning retaliation, and somehow, she has Liev flustered like a schoolboy.
I’ve never seen anyone get under his skin this fast. It’s almost funny.
Almost.
Because underneath it all, my mind keeps counting seconds. Waiting for the call that says Alyona is home. Waiting for confirmation that she and the baby are safe.
Only then will I allow myself to relax. Until that moment, this girl across from me is leverage. Nothing more.
And if Hinto breaks his word, I will show her exactly how ruthless I can be. I’ll cut that smirk off her pretty face.
Ryder’s laugh spills out bright and unrestrained; the sound is far too warm for the situation. It’s like she’s sitting at a bar trading jokes instead of tied to a chair on a floating prison.
It does something strange to the air in the room.
Liev flushes a deeper shade of red, color climbing from his collar to his ears, and the sight is so absurd that for a fleeting second, I almost forget why we’re here. She watches him with open amusement, clearly delighted that she’s managed to rattle a man who looks like he could break her in half.
“You’re cute when you’re mad,” she says lightly.
Liev mutters something in Russian that would make a priest faint.
Before I can waste another thought on their strange little standoff, my phone vibrates hard against the metal table. The sound cuts through everything.
I snatch it.
“Yeah.”
Devin’s voice shakes on the other end. “She’s here. She’s safe.”
I don’t reply, just hang up. Then I stand, chair scraping back.
“Get her,” I tell Liev calmly. “We’re making the trade.”
And I walk out of the galley without looking back.
Forsyth Park is quiet this time of night, but Savannah never truly sleeps.
Streetlamps cast warm halos over the sidewalks, and laughter drifts from somewhere down the block where a handful of tourists linger outside a bar that hasn’t closed yet.
The fountain glows pale under the lights, water spilling in a steady rush that sounds almost deafening in the stillness.
The whole place looks too soft, too civilized for the kind of business being conducted here.
I step out of the SUV and shut the door calmly. Liev circles to my left, shoulders tight, eyes constantly moving.
Two more vehicles idle at the curb behind us, engines low, my men staying inside but ready.
One of them unloads Ryder, who for a moment looks tired and drawn before wearing what must be a signature smirk.
Anyone watching would think we’re just another group of overdressed men out too late, but the weight under our jackets says otherwise.
Hinto waits by the fountain like an impatient tourist who lost his group. He’s wearing sandals and a rumpled linen shirt. Ridiculous.
He keeps shifting from foot to foot, glancing around, wiping his hands on his pants as if he’s sweating through the fabric. A man who moves tons of narcotics through three states and bankrolls half the violence on the coast looks like he’s waiting for a margarita.
I reach back and untie Ryder’s wrists.
She flexes her hands once, rolling her shoulders as if she’s just finished a nap rather than several hours bound to a chair on my boat. There isn’t a shred of fear in her posture, only calculation and faint amusement.
“Go,” I tell her.
She strolls ahead of me like we’re walking into brunch.
Halfway there, she mutters something under her breath in Spanish.
“Idiota.”
The word is soft, fondly venomous, and clearly meant for her father.
I hear it anyway. A slow smile pulls at my mouth.
Hinto hears nothing. He only sees his child approaching and immediately grabs Ryder by the shoulders, scanning for injuries with frantic hands.
“You’re fine?” he demands.
She shrugs him off. “I told you not to underestimate him.” Their argument stays low and rapid, Spanish tangling between them like barbed wire.
I stop a few feet away and let them finish. This isn’t a rescue; it’s a lesson.
When Hinto finally looks at me, there’s murder in his eyes and relief he can’t hide. For a moment, I have a premonition. This is what my life will be like from here on out, with the child growing in Aly’s belly—with the world we’re bringing them into.
“You got what you wanted,” Hinto says, interrupting my thoughts.
“I did,” I agree calmly. “And you got what you wanted too.”
He spits near my shoes but doesn’t step closer. Smart.
I fold my hands behind my back and speak like we’re discussing shipping contracts instead of lives.
“I’m prepared to offer you something better than whatever stunt you tried to pull today.”
He narrows his eyes. “I’m not interested in charity.”
“It isn’t charity. It’s business. And a way to hold you accountable.”
Liev shifts beside me, still simmering, but he stays quiet. This isn’t something I’ve run by him or any of my Avtoritety, which I should have done. Those men leading my soldiers need to know what is coming.
But I don’t take orders. I give them.
“You can rent four of my ports,” I continue. “Long-term access. Legitimate cargo. Customs paperwork that doesn’t magically disappear. Protection.”
Hinto’s jaw tightens. He knows what my ports are worth.
“No drugs,” I add. “Not through my water. You want product, you find something else to move. Electronics. Luxury imports. Machinery. I don’t care. But narcotics stay off my routes.”
He studies me for a long moment, clearly doing the math. Cleaner trade means less heat. Less federal attention. More money. And a truce, or close enough to one that we won’t both be looking over our shoulders at every turn.
“You think you can leash me,” he says.
“I think you like profit more than chaos. And I think you’ve realized what I’m willing to do to protect my own.”
Silence stretches between us.
Finally, he nods once, sharp and resentful.
“Fine.”
It isn’t gratitude. It’s surrender wrapped in pride. Good enough.
He takes Ryder’s arm. She glances back at me over her shoulder and smirks like we’ve just shared a private joke. Then they disappear into the dark streets.
Liev exhales hard. “You’re just letting him walk?”
“I’m investing,” I correct.
He scowls as we head back to the SUV. “After what he did to Alyona?”
“I’m already negotiating with a contact up north,” I say. “Another Bratva leader. He runs weapons, not drugs. Cleaner margins. Higher returns. Hinto gets scraps and thinks he won something while we expand. And once we’re big enough, we can take him out of the equation entirely.”
Liev rubs his face. “He won’t be satisfied for long.”
“He won’t be,” I admit. “Men like him never are.”
“Then this truce is temporary.”
“All truces are.”
I’m restless on the drive back to the plantation, flexing my hands and leaning forward in the back seat. Liev is equally wound tight. Over the course of twenty minutes, it feels like something might have mended between us.
Will he ever forgive me for falling in love with his daughter? Probably not.
But he knows now just how far I’ll go to protect her.
The gates to the plantation come into view, iron bars sliding open as our headlights sweep across them. My spine straightens without thinking.
Every second since Devin’s call has felt stretched thin, like a wire about to snap.
The SUV barely stops before I’m out of it.
The front door opens.
Aly runs down the steps.
She doesn’t slow.
She crashes into me hard enough to steal my breath, arms wrapping around my neck, fingers digging into my jacket like she’s afraid I’ll disappear.
“I knew you’d come,” she whispers, voice shaking. “Thank you. Thank you for coming for me.”
My hands slide to her waist, pulling her flush against me, grounding me in the warmth of her body.
“There isn’t a place on this earth I wouldn’t burn down for you,” I murmur against her hair. “If someone takes you from me again, they won’t live long enough to regret it.”
It isn’t romantic. It’s a promise.
She shivers anyway, but she doesn’t let go. Behind us, Liev clears his throat.
Aly steps back and looks at her father. For a second they just stare at each other, years of distance packed into the silence. Then she moves forward and hugs him too. “Thank you,” she murmurs, finally acknowledging not just what he does, but who he is—to me, to her.
Liev freezes, then slowly wraps his arms around her like he’s afraid she might break. Something in his expression softens.
Their relationship isn’t anywhere near fixed; I know that much. But things are starting to mend tentatively.
Together, the three of us walk inside.