Chapter 22 Mikhail
MIKHAIL
Time slows to a crawl as I watch Tony’s finger tighten on the trigger, the gun pressed against Sophia’s temple.
Her blue eyes find mine across the warehouse.
My Glock is already rising, my aim steady despite the adrenaline flooding my system.
I have maybe half a second to make the shot.
Too high and I kill him.
Too low and I miss entirely, and Sophia dies.
I aim for his shoulder and squeeze the trigger.
The gunshot echoes through the warehouse like thunder.
Tony jerks backward, his own weapon discharging harmlessly into the ceiling as the bullet tears through his right shoulder.
Sophia screams and drops to the ground, scrambling away from her brother as he crumples.
Lorenzo’s men open fire immediately, and I’m moving before my brain catches up.
I grab Sophia and drag her behind a stack of crates as bullets whine past our heads.
Marco and my remaining men return fire, the warehouse erupting into chaos.
“Tony!” Sophia struggles against my grip, trying to get back to her brother. “Mikhail, he’s bleeding!”
“He was going to kill you,” I growl, holding her tighter. “Stay down.”
Through the gunfire, I see Tony crawling toward cover, his left hand pressed against his wounded shoulder.
Blood seeps between his fingers, but he’s moving, which means the shot wasn’t fatal. Good. I need him alive.
Lorenzo’s voice cuts through the chaos, amplified by speakers I can’t locate. “Retreat! Fall back!”
His men scatter like roaches when the lights come on, dragging Tony with them.
I start to pursue, but Sophia’s hand on my arm stops me.
“Let them go,” she says, her voice shaking. “Please. You shot my brother.”
The accusation in her eyes cuts deeper than any blade. “I saved your life.”
“I know.” Tears stream down her face. “I know you did. But he’s still my brother, and I just watched you put a bullet in him.”
I pull her against my chest, one hand cradling the back of her head. She’s trembling, her tears soaking through my shirt. Around us, my men secure the warehouse, checking for remaining threats.
“Boss,” Marco calls out. “We’ve got blood trails. We can track them.”
“Do it.” I release Sophia and move to examine the scene. The blood trail leads to a service exit, drops of crimson marking Tony’s escape route. “I want him found. Alive.”
Over the next three days, we hunt.
My men scour the city, following every lead, bribing every informant. Lorenzo has gone to ground, but he can’t hide forever.
Not with Tony wounded and needing medical attention.
We find my brother in an abandoned clinic on the south side, the kind of place that asks no questions and treats gunshot wounds for cash. I breach the door with Marco and four others, weapons drawn.
Tony is in a back room, his shoulder bandaged but his face pale from blood loss.
He reaches for a gun on the table beside him, but I’m faster. My boot connects with his wrist, and the weapon skitters across the floor.
“Don’t,” I say, my Glock aimed at his head. “I don’t want to shoot you again, but I will.”
He glares at me with Sophia’s eyes, and the resemblance is so strong it makes my chest ache. “Go ahead. Kill me like you killed my father.”
“Your father tried to save my sister.” The words taste like ash. “Lorenzo lied to you about everything.”
“Bullshit.” Tony tries to stand, but Marco forces him back down. “I saw the evidence. Photos, videos, witness statements.”
“We’ll talk about this later.” My words sound harmless enough, but Tony’s a smart guy and understands the underlying meaning behind “talk.” Marco binds Tony’s wrists with a zip tie, then we go back to our vehicles and head back to the safehouse, with Tony lying face down on the backseat, a burlap sack over his head.
The safe house is a fortified apartment in a building I own under a shell corporation, one my uncle doesn’t have information about.
Sophia is waiting when we arrive, and the moment she sees Tony, she rushes to him.
“Oh god, Tony.” She touches his bandaged shoulder gently, tears streaming down her face. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry for everything.”
Gently, but firmly, I latch on to Sophia’s arm and pull her away from her brother. She glances up at me with those defiant eyes, but I won’t budge this time.
“He’s not going to talk with you here,” I tell her as I lead her away. “I can’t have your emotions getting in the way.”
When she starts to balk, I shake my head at her. “He’s been programed, conditioned by Lorenzo. It’s going to take time to decondition him. But you will play a part, I promise. Just not right now.”
Reluctantly she leaves, casting a look back at her brother.
“All fabricated,” I say once we’ve got Tony in a back room, his arms and legs secured to a steel chair. “Lorenzo orchestrated Nicole’s rape. He framed your father to cover his own crimes. Your father was trying to expose him when I killed him.”
I show him the first photo of Vincent Moretti’s body, but from a different angle than the ones I showed Sophia.
This one shows defensive wounds on his hands, bruises that suggest he’d been fighting someone before I found him.
I’d ignored them in the past, brushing them off as a drunken fight before they came to my home.
But now I understand each mark.
“Lorenzo’s men beat him first,” I explain. “They were trying to silence him. I just finished what they started.”
Tony’s jaw clenches, but I see doubt flickering in his eyes. “Why should I believe you?”
“Because your sister does.” I swipe to a video of Melinda’s testimony, recorded in case we needed proof. She explains everything she overheard while Adrian’s prisoner. The real story of that night. How Vincent tried to save Nicole. How Lorenzo manipulated everyone.
Tony watches in silence, his face growing paler with each revelation.
When the video ends, he looks up at me with something like horror in his expression.
“He told me you were the monster,” he whispers. “He said you tortured Dad for days before killing him.”
“I did torture him.” I won’t lie about that. “I thought he raped my sister. I thought he deserved every second of pain I inflicted. I was wrong.”
“So you kidnapped my sister to punish her for something our father didn’t even do?” Anger flares in Tony’s eyes. “How is that any better?”
The accusation hits its mark. “It’s not.
I destroyed Sophia’s life based on lies.
I forced her to marry me, made her watch photos of her father’s execution, treated her like property.
” I meet his gaze steadily. “I can’t undo any of that.
All I can do is try to protect her now and make sure Lorenzo pays for what he’s done to both our families. ”
Tony’s laugh is bitter. “She’s always had terrible taste in men.”
The truth doesn’t stick.
Over the next week, I work with Tony, reshowing him the evidence, walking him through the timeline of events.
When that doesn’t work, I get physical with him—punching him in the face, spraining fingers, whatever will cause him pain with the least damage.
Only because of Sophia, though. If he were any other guy, I wouldn’t give two shits about breaking him from Lorenzo’s brainwashing.
It’s brutal.
He has moments of clarity followed by episodes where he reverts to Lorenzo’s programming, calling me a murderer and Sophia a traitor.
During those times, I have to restrain him, and Sophia has to leave the room because she can’t bear to see her brother like that.
But slowly, painfully, the truth begins to take hold.
On the eighth day, Tony sits across from me at the kitchen table, his shoulder healing but his eyes haunted.
I think he needs more time, but Sophia can’t bare to watch anymore.
“I remember now,” he says quietly. “The night of the accident. It wasn’t an accident at all.”
Sophia, who’s been making coffee, freezes. “What?”
“Lorenzo’s men ran me off the road.” Tony’s hands shake as he grips his coffee mug. “They pulled me from the wreckage and told me I had two choices—work for them or watch them kill you and Dad. I was nineteen, scared, and I believed them when they said Dad was working with them.”
“Oh, Tony.” Sophia sinks into the chair beside him, taking his hand.
“They kept me isolated for months, feeding me information about Dad’s crimes, about how the Artyomov family was destroying ours.
” Tony looks at me, and I see genuine remorse in his eyes.
“I thought the Artyomov’s were the ones that forced Dad to shove you in the closet, that held debts over his head.
I was so angry about everything they took from you.
I…did things I can’t take back. And when Mikhail kidnapped you? I lost it.”
“What things?” I ask, though I’m sure I probably already know.
Tony’s face goes pale. “I helped him move against your operations. Sabotaged shipments. Fed him intelligence about your security. I thought I was protecting my family, but I was just helping him destroy both of ours.”
The confession hangs in the air. I should be angry.
Should want revenge for the damage he’s caused.
But looking at him now, seeing the guilt and shame in his expression, I only feel tired.
“Lorenzo manipulated all of us,” I say finally. “He turned us against each other while he profited from our pain. The question is, what do we do about it now?”
Tony meets my gaze. “We make him pay.”
Sophia squeezes her brother’s hand. “Together. As a family.”
The word “family” does something strange to my chest. I’ve spent so long focused on avenging the family I lost that I haven’t considered building a new one. But looking at Sophia and Tony, I realize that’s exactly what we’re doing.
“Then we need a plan,” I say. “Lorenzo won’t expect us to work together. We can use that.”
We spend the rest of the day strategizing, mapping out Lorenzo’s operations and identifying weaknesses. Tony’s insider knowledge proves invaluable. He knows things about Lorenzo’s organization that I never could have discovered on my own.
As evening falls, Sophia excuses herself to take a shower.
Tony and I are left alone, and the silence stretches between us, heavy with unspoken words.
“I need to know something,” Tony says finally. “Do you love my sister, or is she just a convenient weapon against Lorenzo?”
The question deserves an honest answer, but I’m not sure how to respond.
How do I put to words the deep obsession I have for her, for keeping her alive and by my side?
That I want her to smile every damn day.
“At first, she was revenge. A way to hurt your father through his daughter. But somewhere along the way, she became…important to me.” I meet his eyes. “If I could go back and undo what I did to her, I would. But I can’t.”
Sophia comes into the room just as Tony stands and starts to walk toward his bedroom. He pauses. “I love you, sis. No matter what happens, remember that.”
“I love you too,” she says, confusion clear in her voice.
Tony disappears into the bedroom, and Sophia turns to me. “What was that about?”
I don’t get the chance to answer. The sound of Tony’s bedroom window opening spurs me into motion, my thoughts furious and disbelieving at the same time.
I’m moving before my brain catches up, bursting through the bedroom door.
The window is open, curtains billowing in the night breeze. Tony is gone.
On the bed, he’s left a note written in hasty scrawl. I’m sorry. I can’t let you risk everything for me. I’ll end this with Lorenzo myself.
“No!” Sophia pushes past me, staring at the empty window. “No, no, no. Tony, you idiot!”