Chapter Thirteen
Marco
THE WAITING was cruel. Though he wasn’t so sure seeing Cade walk into his restaurant with a grim look on his face was any better. He could tell from the man’s somber demeanor that he had answers. He knew who killed Alicia and despite looking like the last thing he wanted was to tell Marco, that’s exactly what he was there to do.
He knew it would probably break whatever was left of his heart, but he needed the truth. He needed to know who robbed his beautiful sister of a long and happy life. He wanted to crush the person who had ensured Dante would grow up without his mother.
He felt Rome tense next to him but kept his eyes on Cade, tracking his every move as he walked through the restaurant. At least they weren’t open so there was no one to see or hear what was about to transpire.
“Marco,” Cade said with a short nod.
He stood slowly, one hand going to the top of his chair. “You haven’t made an arrest.”
Cade raised his chin and said, “I made you a promise.”
“You did.”
“Just… make sure I don’t have another murder investigation on my hands?”
Marco cocked a brow at him.
Cade shrugged. “I only care that they pay for what they did, not how they pay.”
He gave Cade a nod.
No one would find what was left of those bastards once he was done with them.
Cade released a sigh and sat down, motioning for Marco to take the seat across from him. Despite wanting to remain standing, he had a feeling Cade wouldn’t start talking until he sat down so he did.
“I wanna preface this with saying don’t blame her,” Cade said.
The hair at the back of his neck stood on end and his heart wasn’t liking this conversation one bit.
“She fell in love with the wrong guy.”
That much he already knew, but what did it have to do with her death?
“Dante’s father? They killed him, too.”
He blinked at Cade, his voice rough as he asked, “His father?”
Alicia had never told him who he was. He’d never pressured her to either, but he sure was regretting that now.
Cade nodded. “They had a real Romeo and Juliet thing going on.”
Marco straightened.
He was in a rival gang, then. One that hated their association enough to kill them both.
“How did you find out about him?”
Cade hesitated, gaze dropping to the floor.
Fuck.
“Neil told you?”
Cade didn’t react for a second and then he frowned at Marco.
He leaned back in his chair with a grunt. “He did, didn’t he? He fucking knew.”
“How do you know Neil?” Cade asked cautiously.
“None of your business,” he snapped, trying to keep his feelings for the man under wraps, both the love and the hate. From the soft look in Cade’s eyes, he wasn’t successful.
“Go on,” he said with a wave of his hand.
“His name was Dimitri Zhutov.”
While he didn’t recognize the name, he knew it was Russian.
Cade reached into his jacket and pulled out a picture. He put it on the table between them.
He looked down at it, his heart jumping when he saw his sister smiling back at him, a man with light hair and a square jaw had his arm around her. He was looking at her as if she was his whole world.
“He was low in rank. A foot soldier. They met in secret for years and when he decided he wanted out to be with her, they were found out and killed. As far as I can tell, she was meeting him that day so they could leave together.”
Alicia knew it could’ve caused a war. She knew the whole time how dangerous it was, and she did it anyway. His sister who’d been hurt so many times by love had found someone she thought was worth the risk. She had thought because he and Neil were making it work that she and Dimitri could too. He was as responsible for her death as Neil was.
He stood, staring down at Cade, trying desperately not to fucking crumble from the guilt. He held onto the back of his chair, his knuckles going wide while his jaw ticked.
“I want a name,” he said, his voice deceptively calm while his insides were raging.
“Vetrov. Urvan Vetrov.”
He lifted his chair and threw it across the room with a shout filled with pain and anger. The rage burning inside him had his hands shaking, his heart thundering in his chest.
The fucker had killed his sister and then offered him a business deal.
He stood there for a moment, chest moving rapidly as he stared unseeing. Vetrov was going to die. He was going to suffer. He would make sure of it.
He met Rome’s gaze across the room and gave him a nod and as Rome left, he turned to Cade and said, “Thank you.”
Cade gave him a nod, his gaze filled with sympathy.
“Do you…” Cade trailed off for a moment. “Do you have someone?”
Marco straightened, the pit in his stomach feeling like it was only expanding.
Cade blew out a breath, then said, “You’re gonna need someone. Even if you don’t want him there, you shouldn’t be alone. Trust me.”
They both knew Cade was talking about Neil, but Cade didn’t know what Neil had done. He didn’t know anything about them.
“I’ll be fine,” he said and though Cade nodded, he knew the man didn’t believe him. He didn’t believe it either.
Cade walked away and he hoped for his sake that he did stay the hell away from this. Cade was a good man in his book, probably the best man he knew, but if Cade got in the way of his revenge?
He shook his head.
Best not to think about that. All he could do was wait for Rome’s call and when it came, he was ready. As ready as he would ever be. His driver took him to the docks where he had a warehouse. He walked into the building knowing no one would hear any screams from inside.
There was a chair placed in the middle of the room with a small table next to it. On that table was a bunch of tools and knives. Everything he would need to make Vetrov suffer for what he’d done.
He didn’t have to wait long before the door opened, and a man was dragged into the room cursing and screaming at the men holding him. He was dropped into the chair, hands and feet bound to it so he couldn’t move.
The men left though Rome stayed behind, standing just by the door, his vigilant gaze on Vetrov in case he tried anything. He would be stupid to. He would just die faster.
Vetrov wasn’t a small man. He was short and stocky with wide shoulders and quite the gut. He’d obviously been wearing a suit, but the jacket and dress shirt were missing and he only had on a white top. There was a small trail of blood on it. From a hit to the nose. There was still blood on Vetrov’s face, too.
“Serrano?”
Vetrov looked surprised, staring at Marco with disbelief.
“Tell me about Dimitri Zhutov,” Marco said and walked closer. There was confusion in Vetrov’s gaze, so Marco added, “You killed him?”
The man’s eyes turned cold in an instant and he spat, “No one leaves the Bratva.”
“He was leaving?”
“What the fuck is this about, Serrano?” Vetrov snapped, glaring daggers at him. “This won’t end well for you.”
“Bold of you to assume I care.”
He was smiling at Vetrov, and that smile was filled with venom. He grabbed a knife off the table and said, “He’s not the only one you killed.”
“He had a whore,” Vetrov said and the urge to slam the knife into the man’s throat rose exponentially. He needed answers, though, so he fought the urge and stepped closer until he was standing right in front of Vetrov, making the man tilt his head back to meet his gaze.
“I made him watch as we all took turns on that bitch,” Vetrov sneered, spittle flying. “Then he got to watch as I killed his whore before I cut his throat and let him drown in his own blood.”
Marco put the tip of his blade against Vetrov’s throat.
“That whore was my sister.”
The slight surprise widening Vetrov’s eyes told him Vetrov hadn’t cared enough to find out who she was before killing her. That was the last mistake he would ever make.
“I want names,” he said, staring at Vetrov who seemed to have understood just how much he’d messed up. “Who defiled my sister, Vetrov?”
Vetrov shook his head.
He shouldn’t have done that.
Marco grabbed the man by the hair and put the tip of the knife just above Vetrov’s collarbone, holding his gaze as he started to push it in. He went slow, and Vetrov’s grunts quickly became screams.
“Names.”
Vetrov had snot running down his face along with his tears, anguish screaming from his expression. Good. He deserved to suffer.
Vetrov rattled off the names of four other men and Marco looked at Rome who already had his phone to his ear, ready to send the men out to grab them. Marco turned back to Vetrov and jerked the knife out of him. Vetrov yelled and hunched forward, his breathing loud and labored.
“What did you do with Dimitri’s body?”
Vetrov didn’t look up as he shook his head.
He hadn’t known Dimitri, but he did know that he’d risked everything to be with Alicia and their son. It may have gotten them killed, but that didn’t mean Dante didn’t deserve to be able to visit his father’s grave.
He put the tip of his knife just above Vetrov’s left knee and pushed it in slowly. The man’s screams only made him smile.
“He’s―” Vetrov gasped out, moaning in pain.
“He’s what?”
Vetrov looked at him with disdain. “He’s at the butcher shop.”
He blinked at Vetrov. The man had a butcher shop on the outskirts of town. It was a front for the Russians’ business as well as a means to launder their money. Vetrov had slaughtered Dimitri like a pig and then hung him like one. Why wasn’t he surprised?
“Make arrangements to have him buried next to Alica,” he told Rome.
Rome gave him a nod and he turned back to Vetrov, a hateful smile finding his lips.
“Now,” he said and pulled the knife back out, “You and I are going to spend a lot of time together.”
Vetrov didn’t deserve a fast death. He deserved to suffer, and he would make him. He would make him wish he’d never been born. He’d make him beg for death and he wouldn’t give it to him. Not until he was done. Not until there was nothing left of Vetrov to keep alive.
∞ ∞ ∞ ∞
He took the red napkin Rome handed him and slowly dried off his hands, gazing out over the water though he didn’t see much of anything. Rome left him alone, heading back inside to clean up the mess. There wasn’t much left of Vetrov so it wouldn’t be hard to get rid of. There was a lot of blood, though.
He could hear the man’s screams in his head, and he knew he should’ve been horrified or at the very least have enjoyed it. All he felt was a whole lot of nothing. Emptiness was all there was inside him. Nothing he did would bring his sister back. Nothing would give Dante more time with his mother. He would never know her laugh. He would never find her snooping annoying. He would never get to experience her fawning over him when he brought someone home for the first time.
When he heard footsteps on the gravel, he expected Rome, but it wasn’t him. He knew exactly who it was without looking up.
“I’m sorry.”
The words were barely audible, and they did nothing. They changed nothing.
“She didn’t tell me the whole story. If she had…” Neil trailed off, anguish lacing his words.
“So, you’re blaming her now?”
He slowly raised his gaze, certain the ire showing in his eyes would tell the man exactly what he thought of him.
Neil snapped his mouth shut, pain flaring in his eyes.
“Why are you here?” Marco asked, looking back out over the water.
“I just wanted to make sure you’re okay.”
“Okay?” he drawled, anger sparking like a flame to fuel. He turned to face Neil. “How could I ever be okay? She’s gone.”
His voice broke and he had to fight back tears. He had to fight back a scream.
Neil flinched and took a step back.
“I’m sorry,” Neil whispered.
Marco shook his head and wasn’t surprised when that well-crafted mask fell into place on Neil’s face and when he told the man to leave, he turned and walked away.
He swayed on his feet, tears streaming down his cheeks as his knees hit the ground. Nothing would ever be the same. He’d lost two people he loved. One because of the other. And it hurt. It hurt so fucking much that he wanted to rip out his heart just to make it stop. But it wouldn’t stop. The pain would never go away. No matter how many people he killed. No matter how much he punished the men responsible for his baby sister’s death. He was stuck with this pain alone and he wasn’t sure how he was going to survive it.