Chapter 33
GAbrIEL
I stare at the date written on the doctor’s report, still trying to adjust to the reality of it.
That’s the day our child is due to enter the world.
Dr. Martinez came to the house two days ago. She has impeccable credentials, and Amanda vouched for her personally. She examined Thea with the kind of care and thoroughness I demanded and expected. She took blood, ran tests, and answered every question I fired at her with professional patience.
And, perhaps most importantly, she didn’t ask me any unnecessary questions. If she knew who I was, she didn’t let on.
Thea is seven weeks along. Healthy.
Seven weeks. A smile had come to my face unbidden when I’d heard that. Seven weeks means that Thea likely conceived the very first time we were together. It’s almost as if this child was meant to be.
December 15.
By then, Kolya will be dead, or as good as dead. The Bratva will be restructured without his presence or input.
I sigh, running my hand through my hair. So much to consider, so much to plan for.
But it must be done. I refuse to allow my child to enter a world where he or she is not safe, a world where their mother has a multimillion-dollar bounty on her head.
I turn my attention to the ultrasound on the desk, the grainy black-and-white photo that contains our entire future. I pick it up and study it. It still moves me, no matter how many times I look at it.
A knock sounds at the door. I open a drawer and slide the photo inside. No one in the house knows yet.
“Entra,” I say.
The door opens and Oscar comes in, his expression carefully neutral in the way it is when he’s about to announce a guest.
“Sir, Alexei Petrov is here to see you.”
“Send him in.”
Alexei Petrov carries himself like minor nobility, which he is, in a sense.
He is in his mid-fifties, with silver threading through his dark hair. Tall and lean, he wears a perfectly tailored navy suit, his Italian leather shoes, spotless.
He’s not just any man. He’s Thea’s cousin.
Masha Fetisova’s sister married into the Petrov family—old Russian aristocracy when that mattered—and produced one child, Alexei. The relation is distant, but he is one of the few people, perhaps the only person, with a legitimate blood connection to Thea.
We’ve never met in person, but I know his reputation. Alexei never took part in Bratva affairs, instead choosing to make his fortune in private security, running a firm that operates in twelve countries, providing protection services to multinational corporations and high-net-worth individuals.
Despite his graceful appearance, the man is a trained killer.
And he could be the key to keeping Thea safe.
“Gabriel,” he says, extending his hand toward me as he approaches. His accent is cultured—Moscow by way of Oxford. “A pleasure to finally meet you.”
“Alexei.” I shake his hand, noticing the calluses, the long scar on his wrist. “Likewise.” I gesture toward the chair across from the desk, and he takes it.
“First of all, thank you for seeing me. No doubt you’re a busy man these days—especially with my cousin in your life.”
“I am. I assume this meeting is about her?”
“Indeed it is. I’ll get right to the point.” He glances away. “I thought she was dead.”
“Many did. But the truth was hidden for her own good.”
“I understand. Still, finding out that you’re not the sole remaining member of your family does something to you.”
I get up and step over to the bar. I pour a drink for myself, then gesture, offering one to him. He nods.
“That means you’re no longer the heir,” I say, coming over with the glass of vodka and handing it to him. “How does that make you feel?”
He raises his drink. “Prost—” He stops himself. “Now, where are my manners? An Italian toast for an Italian host. Saluti.”
“Saluti.”
“Honestly, I’m relieved. What could I do about it? March into the city, go to war with the Bratva? Where on earth would I fit that into my schedule?”
He chuckles.
“No. I’d been content to view the loss of the New York line as a horrible tragedy, but one for which justice might come in the next life. Kolya deserves to die. Worse, actually.”
“And that’s why you’re here—to verify matters?”
“Yes,” he says and takes a sip. “That’s partially the reason.
News has reached Moscow that Teodora lives.
Powerful people are discussing the matter, all of them wondering how it’s going to shake out.
And they’re more than a little concerned that the delicate power balance here in New York is going to be shaken up a bit. ”
“But there’s more.”
He smiles. “There always is, isn’t there?
I’m not the only one with a connection to New York.
There are survivors of the old syndicate—men who weren’t Fetisovs by blood but were deeply connected to the family all the same.
When Kolya took power, he cast them aside.
Most fled back to the old country. They are eager for revenge. ”
He leans in, and I can sense that he’s getting to the main point.
“People like Max Federov.”
There it is.
Max Federov is Kolya’s greatest rival and a pakhan with enough influence to swing the others against him. The Federovs had been the closest allies with the Fetisovs until the massacre. Max, fearing he was next, fled to Russia.
“Max, as you know, kept ties in the city after he left, business interests. Many, including myself, have long suspected that he’s not done with New York—nor is he done with Kolya. That he’s merely biding his time, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.”
“And you think this is the perfect moment?”
“It very well could be. And there’s this…” He reaches into his jacket and takes out a small, framed photo. He hands it to me.
I look closely at it. It’s of a younger Max Federov standing next to Lev Fetisov at what appears to be a wedding. Both men are smiling and both look relaxed in a way that suggests genuine friendship.
“Max was Lev’s godfather,” Alexei says quietly. “They were allies for a reason. They were blood brothers—sworn before God. Max has been waiting for proof. And what better proof than one of the Fetisov children still living?”
“I have the DNA tests ready.”
“He will want to see them, to see her. And if he finds the reality of the situation compelling enough—”
“He could declare a blood vengeance.”
He nods slowly, then finishes his drink, raising his glass for another. I refill it.
“That would be a most difficult position for Kolya,” Alexei goes on. “A fight to the death, no doubt. If Max were to make such a move, you wouldn’t need the council to decide on what to do.”
I take one more look at the photograph, then set it down on my desk.
“It would bring the council to my side, our side,” I say. “But it would also escalate things enough to mean war.”
“It would almost certainly mean war. But when it’s over, there would be justice. And Kolya would be dead.”
I sip my vodka, drumming my fingers on the desk in thought.
“It’s a significant risk,” I finally say. “For all of us. If we were to lose, no doubt Kolya would put you in the crosshairs—regardless of your presence in more legitimate matters.”
“You are correct. That is why we cannot lose.”
He throws back the rest of his drink.
“I’m sure this is more than enough to chew on for the time being,” he says. “I will be returning to Moscow.”
“Just like that?”
“Just like that. I’m putting myself in needless danger if I were to stick around. But such an important matter required a personal touch.” He stands. “I will put you in contact with Max. And I will stay in touch.”
His eyes narrow. There’s more.
“What is it?” I ask.
“My business is in security, as you know. I can place some of my resources to work here in the city, to see if I could help you in a more concrete way.”
“And?”
“And Kolya is not planning on waiting for the council to make a decision. He’s bought time, but that’s it. My sources tell me that he’s planning to make a move before formal proceedings begin. Possibly within the week. And that means Thea is in grave danger.”
My gut tenses. “Thank you.”
“Least I could do. As I said, I’ll put you into contact with Max.” He steps forward and sets the glass on the desk. “Good speaking with you, Gabriel.”
I raise an eyebrow. “You don’t want to see Thea?”
“I considered it, but now’s not the time for reunions. Possibly under happier circumstances once we solve the Kolya problem. Take care, Gabriel. This won’t be the last you’ll see of me.”
With that, he offers his hand and a half smile, then turns to depart.
I sit at my desk after he leaves, staring at the photograph of Max and Lev, trying to recalibrate everything.
Possibly within the week.
But before I have a chance to think it over, my phone buzzes.
“Moretti.”
“Afternoon, boss,” Amanda says. “I’m twenty-five minutes out. Just a reminder for our meeting—you’ve had a bit of a tendency to let these things slip lately.”
I run my hand through my hair. “I haven’t forgotten. See you soon.”
“Also,” she says before I have a chance to end the call, “I just wanted to check in, see how the father-to-be was feeling?”
Amanda’s been unusually solicitous the past few days, more supportive and seemingly invested—more so than usual—in making sure everything runs smoothly.
“Terrified,” I admit. “Protective. Homicidal toward anyone who threatens my family.”
“So normal Gabriel, then?” She laughs.
I lean back in my chair. “Amanda, how much do you know about Max Federov?”
“Enough to know he’s dangerous. He has a pretty nasty reputation, despite not being seen in New York for years. Why?”
I clear my throat and explain. I tell her about Alexei’s visit, about the photograph, about the possibility of bringing Max into the fold.
“That’s…” She pauses. “That’s either brilliant or suicidal. Maybe both. And it would turn this into a proper war.”
“Your professional opinion?”
“Well, if you can’t wait fifteen minutes for that, my professional opinion is that you’re thinking like a father instead of a don or a strategist. You want overwhelming force; you want to crush Kolya.
And you’re not going to tolerate the possibility of failure.
Not when Thea and the baby are at risk.”
“You’re not wrong.”
“Strategically, it might be the smart play. Max brings power, could be enough to take out Kolya without battling it out in a long, grinding war. But…”
“But what?”
“If Kolya got word, it might scare the hell out of him, make him do something drastic. He’d target Thea and try to take her off the board immediately.”
“So we need to do this quickly and quietly.”
“Exactly.”
I say nothing for a long moment, running through scenarios, calculating risks.
“I’m going to put you in touch with Alexei. Set up a meeting with Max. I want to see him as soon as possible. I’ll discuss everything with Thea. He’ll want to see her, too.”
“Gabriel—”
“What?”
“Just be careful. Max isn’t exactly known for his restraint or for keeping a cool head. If he decides to act, it might not be subtle. Just make sure that you’re ready for any and all contingencies. And start thinking about exit strategies.”
“I know.”
“Do you? Because from where I’m sitting, you’re about to introduce your pregnant girlfriend to one of the most dangerous men in the game. And you’re going to instigate a war, if you can’t handle Kolya before then.”
Another good point. But then I think about the ultrasound image, about December 15, about the world I want my son or daughter to grow up in.
“It’s a risk,” I say. “But some things are worth such a risk.”
“You’re betting everything on this, Gabriel. Just be careful, alright? See you in a few.”
The call ends and I sit back in my chair, my thoughts instantly returning to Thea.
Specifically, I think about the way she looked this morning when I brought her coffee—decaf now—sleepy and rumpled and absolutely beautiful.
I think about how I made her laugh, and she instinctively pressed her hand to her belly.
I think about the future we’re building together. Our future.
I pick up my phone and call her.
“Hey, you.”
“Dinner tonight.”
She chuckles. “Are you asking or telling?”
“A little of both.”
There’s a pause. “Dinner, as in dinner out?”
“That’s precisely what I mean.”
“Are you sure about that? I mean, Kolya—”
“I’m sure. I had my people make a sweep of the restaurant I have in mind. It will be a private table. Guards will be surrounding us but out of sight.”
Another pause. “It sounds lovely. But I figured that I’d be the one begging to go out. Wasn’t expecting to hear it from you.”
“I wanted to do something special for you, to celebrate the baby in style. Before everything gets even more complicated.”
“More complicated? How much more are we talking?”
“A lot.”
Silence. “Should I be worried?”
“You should be prepared. I’ll explain everything at dinner.”
“Alright.” I can hear the smile in her voice. “What should I wear?”
“Something that makes you feel beautiful.”
“In that case, I’ll take my time.”