Chapter 9
IVAN
Rain hammers Chicago like the city owes it money. The streets are rivers as gutters overflow, the whole place drowning in cold, gray water. I follow two of Dmitri's dealers through it, collar turned up, gun heavy against my ribs.
Mikhail and Alexei. Low-level muscle, but Dmitri's been using them for reconnaissance lately. I've been tracking their movements for two days, expecting them to lead me to another warehouse or drug lab to burn down.
Instead, they head toward the docks, venturing into familiar territory.
They lead me directly to Dave's Diner.
Shit. The diner should be neutral ground and off-limits. But Dmitri doesn't respect boundaries—that's why we're at war.
They duck inside, shaking rain from their jackets. Through the water-streaked window, I see Mick behind the counter. The piece of shit is working alone. No Lila to dump responsibilities on, obviously—she's forty stories up in my penthouse, safe and increasingly angry about it.
So… Mick's got connections to Dmitri's organization? Nothing major. Stays clean enough to maintain plausible deniability.
Smart. Or cowardly. Sometimes they're the same thing.
I slip in through the familiar back entrance, the one the staff uses for smoke breaks. The same one I slipped through bleeding just days ago. It’s never locked. The owner's too fucking cheap to fix the latch.
The back hallway is dark, reeking of fryer grease and mildew. I position myself so I can hear what’s going on but remain hidden in the shadows.
Mikhail's voice carries: "Where's the girl who worked that night? The pretty blonde?"
My hand goes to my gun.
Mick scratches his greasy neck. "Lila? Haven't seen her since. Bitch didn't even call in sick."
Bitch. I want to put a bullet through his skull right here. But I need to hear this. Need to know what Dmitri's planning. I have to be one step ahead.
"Dmitri wants her," Mikhail says.
"Why? She's just a waitress."
"Doesn’t matter why. Boss wants her either recruited or removed."
My blood runs cold. Recruited or removed. The two options Dmitri gives to loose ends.
"Recruited? What's that mean?" Mick asks.
"Pretty girl, no family. Perfect for his side business."
The side business. Fucking pigs. Dmitri's been expanding into trafficking over the past year, moving girls through the port and selling them to Moscow connections. I've wanted to shut it down, but other priorities keep getting in the way.
Now it's personal.
"If she shows up?" Mick asks, calculation and greed braided with every word.
"Call this number." Paper rustles. "There's money in it for you. Good money."
"How much?"
"Five thousand for the tip. More if you keep her here until we arrive."
"Deal."
I wait for the bell over the door to announce their exit, then slip back into the alley, undetected. Watching from the shadows, I count to thirty before following the men. The rain's gotten heavier, offering perfect cover. They head east toward the docks, moving fast through the downpour.
Two blocks away, there's an alley. Narrow and dark, it’s a place bodies could turn up without witnesses. I know it well.
I cut through a side street I know they'll pass and position myself at the alley mouth, waiting.
The two fools appear, hunched against the rain, talking in Russian about the girl they're hunting. About what Dmitri plans to do with her once she's found. The details make rage bloom hot and violent in my chest.
I step out behind them. "Looking for someone?"
They spin. Mikhail reaches for his gun, but I'm faster. One shot to his knee, and he's down, screaming, falling into a puddle that's already pink with his blood.
Alexei freezes, hands up. "Petrov. Boss, we weren't—"
"Shut up." I train the gun on Mikhail, who's writhing in agony. "What is she worth to Dmitri?"
"I don't know, man, I just—"
I press the gun to his forehead. "Wrong answer. Try again."
"Please, I'm just a soldier—"
"Then tell me what you know."
Mikhail's breathing is ragged. Rain dilutes the blood spreading around his knee. "The girl—the waitress—his Moscow connections want her. I don't know why. Dmitri said to find her and bring her in. He's got buyers interested."
"Buyers." The word tastes like ash. "She's a person, not merchandise."
"I know, man, I know. But Dmitri's got a thing about it. He wants her specifically."
"The lie she told. He thinks she's with me."
" Yeah, exactly. Boss thinks you're keeping her. Thinks you've—"
“I already knew that.”
I shoot him in the shoulder before he can finish. The sound is loud even with the rain, but no one's around to hear. Mikhail screams again, clutching the fresh wound.
"That's for calling her nobody." I crouch, gun still trained on him.
"Now listen carefully, because I'm only saying this once. Crawl back to Dmitri. Tell him Lila is under Petrov’s protection.
Tell him if he or anyone working for him touches her, looks at her, or even thinks about her, I will burn his entire empire to the ground.
Every warehouse. Every operation. Every man who's ever taken his money.
I'll leave him with nothing but rubble and corpses. "
"He won't care, man." Mikhail's face is pale, shock setting in. "He wants to expand. And he's got the other families backing him—"
I put the gun to his good knee. "I'm going to count to three. If you're still here, I'll make sure you never walk again. One."
He begins crawling, leaving a trail of blood. Alexei helps him up, and they stumble away into the storm.
I stand still watching them disappear. Water soaks through my clothes, the gun still warm in my hand.
The other families are talking. Of course they are. They’re always fucking talking.
I head back to the diner through back alleys, avoiding cameras. Mick is wiping down the counter when I walk in the front door, bell chiming.
He looks up, and the color drains from his face. "Hey. What can I—"
"You made a deal with Dmitri's men." I let the door close behind me. "Five thousand for Lila's location."
"I don't know what you're—"
I draw my gun and place it on the counter between us. I don't point it at him. There’s no need to. "Don't lie to me, Mick. I heard everything."
He's shaking now, hands up. "Look, man, I thought she ran off. They offered money—"
"How much is your life worth?"
"What?"
"Put a number on it. How much would I have to pay you not to sell out the girl who's worked with you for two years?"
He can't answer. He stands there, trembling like a rat in a trap.
"That's what I thought." I pick up the gun and tuck it away. "Here's what's going to happen. If Dmitri's men ask again, tell them she never came back, and that you don't know where she is. Understand?"
"Yeah. Yeah, I understand."
"If you call that number or give them any information, I'll know. And I'll come back here, but not to talk." I lean across the counter. "You think Dmitri's scary? You think five thousand dollars is worth crossing me?"
"No. No. I won't say anything. I swear."
“Good.” I straighten. “And Mick, call her a bitch again, and I’ll make sure that’s the last thing you ever say.”
I leave him, practically pissing himself, and head back into the rain.
The Bentley is parked three blocks away with Misha in the driver's seat, waiting.
"How'd it go?" he asks as I slide in.
"Message delivered. Mikhail will live, but he'll remember who runs this city."
"And the diner situation?"
"Handled." I peel off my wet jacket. "But we have a problem. Dmitri's involving the other families."
Misha's jaw tightens.
"Probably because of Lila."
Misha drives in silence for a while, processing the situation.
"The men are loyal to you. They'll follow your lead, even if the other families object. But if Dmitri frames this as weakness..." He trails off, face unreadable.
"Then I'll prove my strength by crushing him." Simple. Direct. The only language the Bratva understands. "Set up a meeting with the captains soon. I want everyone to know where I stand."
"They won't like it."
"They don't have to like it, but they’ll accept it." I close my eyes, suddenly exhausted. "And if they can't accept it, they can challenge me. We'll see how that works out for them."