Chapter 33
Chapter Thirty-Three
Henry
The bunker always stirred up memories of my childhood. Even more so today after sharing my past with Ariana.
At one point, I was able to push out all the bitter thoughts of my father when in this room.
It looked nothing like it once did. The walls were no longer lined with shelves containing cans of non-perishable food.
The space was no longer littered with boxes upon boxes of more weapons and ammo than some small countries.
And there wasn’t a constant feeling of dread.
Of fear.
Yet somehow, my father’s presence still lingered in this space.
But so did Ariana’s.
The memory of her body tangled with mine, the echo of her voice, the scent of her skin… It followed me. Branded itself into me. I would have given anything to be wrapped around her again, to bury myself so deep inside of her I forgot the rest of the world existed.
But I’d ignored reality long enough. Had ignored my purpose long enough. Salvatore’s text an hour ago reminded me of that.
So when Ariana crawled in her reading chair after I made her breakfast, I gave her a kiss and said I needed to catch up on some work.
She didn’t ask what exactly I needed to work on, which I was grateful for.
I wasn’t sure what to tell her. What I wanted to tell her.
I needed answers first, then I’d figure out where to go from there.
I crossed the room and sat in front of the wall of monitors, some displaying security camera feeds, others live news broadcasts. Then I picked up my phone and dialed Salvatore’s number.
He answered on the first ring. “Henry.”
“What did you find out?” I asked, tension already winding through me.
“You still hate small talk,” he responded. “Good to know some things don’t change. I put out some feelers with my contacts in Miami, like you asked.”
“And?”
“There are a few rumblings that might be of interest to you.”
I straightened, my pulse increasing. “Like what?”
“Word is the Bratva were after a high-ticket item. Sent one of their best to acquire it. But he went dark, even after getting the location of the drop. They can’t even trace the cell because it’s been turned off.
Needless to say, the Bratva leaderships in Miami is pissed and will stop at nothing to find out what happened. And where the high-ticket item is.”
“What is this item?” I asked, although I feared I already knew the answer.
There was a long pause before he said, “Ariana Kane.”
The silence that followed wasn’t quiet. It buzzed like static in my ears. I knew whoever attempted to take her was bad news. But to learn it was the Bratva?
“Why? What could they want from her?” I mused, partly to myself. Partly to Salvatore.
“She’s married to Victor Kane, which makes her a target with a hell of a price tag.
Maybe Kane fucked over someone in their circle.
Maybe they want to use her as leverage. Or maybe it’s personal.
Doesn’t matter why they want her, Fontaine.
Just that they do. Based on what you shared during our last conversation, I can only assume you intervened in the abduction and have their merchandise. ”
“You assume correctly.”
He pushed out a long breath. “This is bad, Henry. Like really fucking bad.”
I clenched my jaw.
He didn’t have to tell me that. I knew it was bad. I’d killed someone connected to the Bratva, fed his body to the alligators in the Everglades, and ripped their merchandise out from under them.
Except Ariana wasn’t merchandise, or a “high-ticket item”, as Salvatore had referred to her.
She was a person.
My person now.
And I was willing to burn down the fucking world to keep her out of harm’s way.
My gaze flicked to one of the monitors where a national news broadcast played. Victor Kane sat across from a congenial news anchor, his face drawn into a perfect performance of heartbreak. His hands wrung together. His voice trembled as he pleaded for his wife’s return.
Bullshit.
All of it — the heartwarming stories he shared about his wife, his undying love for her — it was all a lie. A part of me wondered if perhaps he had something to do with her disappearance. If he hired the Bratva to take care of her.
My mind raced as I considered everything I’d learned, especially finding the same man who attempted to take Ariana in the background of one of Sarah’s final videos.
Could it all be connected?
Did Victor hire the Bratva to eliminate Sarah?
Did he want to teach Ariana a lesson, too?
The need for answers burned in my chest, but it was nothing compared to the sick, lurching fear that twisted through me at the thought of Ariana in the Bratva’s hands.
I’d seen what they did to women. The auctions. The disappearances. The mutilated bodies that washed ashore like discarded trash.
I couldn’t let that happen to her.
Wouldn’t let that happen to her.
On the screen, Victor’s eyes looked glassy and perfect. Fake.
I stared at him, and something cracked open deep inside me.
This wasn’t only about Sarah anymore.
This was about Ariana, too.
About the way she’d looked at me last night, open and trusting and so fucking beautiful it almost brought me to my knees.
“I need to know why,” I said quietly. “What they want with her. I need to know what I’m up against here.”
“You’re up against the Bratva,” Salvatore reminded me.
“At least the Miami branch. And you don’t go to war with the fucking Bratva.
Which is exactly what you did when you stole their merchandise and killed one of their hitmen in the process, even if they don’t know it yet.
They eventually will, and when they do, they’ll stop at nothing to bring you down.
There’s no way this ends clean for you.”
“I’m not asking for clean,” I responded. “I just… I need answers. Not guesses. Not speculation. The truth. I need to keep her safe.”
Another protracted silence fell between us. “You care about her. Don’t you?”
I didn’t answer right away. My throat felt tight, too full of things I didn’t understand. Guilt. Fear. Fury. Maybe even something worse.
I didn’t even want to begin to unwrap any of it. All I did know was that I planned to do whatever was necessary to protect Ariana from suffering any more abuse, whether at her husband’s hand or the hands of the Bratva.
“I just want answers.”
He was silent for a moment, obviously weighing whether to help or cut all ties before his association with me landed him in hot water. Finally, he said, “I’ll be in touch.”
The line went dead before I could reply, leaving me alone with my thoughts.
I didn’t know why the Bratva wanted Ariana.
But I did know one thing.
They wouldn’t get to her.
Not while I was still breathing.