Tear the World Apart
Dante
“Where the fuck is he keeping her?” I barked at Nico, pacing up and down Leo’s private living room like a caged animal. Every muscle in my body was coiled tight enough to snap.
Evelyn was out there somewhere, at the mercy of that madman, and Valentina had just pushed him over the goddamn edge.
“Now he knows he’s done for, he’s got nothing to lose,” I told her, venting some of my fury. The inactivity was driving me insane. I needed to do something. I needed to get to her.
“Calm down, Dante.” Her voice was like an arctic breeze off the polar icecaps. “Vincent isn’t going to kill Evelyn, he’s got enough to worry about with both the cartel and Malakov coming after him. He’s not going to want to add you to that list.”
“How do you know?” I growled.
“Because I know him. He might be a shit, but he’s also a survivor. He’ll take what money he has left and run. Mark my words.”
I wasn’t so sure. He’d sounded like he meant business, and my mother had a way of pushing people to the brink. I knew what that felt like.
“My team is checking every property linked to Vincent,” Marco said from the dining table, hand over the receiver on one of his three cell phones. “Apartments, shell companies, storage facilities, warehouses.”
His team was a bunch of paid minions that dove into the secret lives of the candidates he wanted to destroy or manipulate. My brother had the power to ruin a lot of careers, if he so chose. And he often did.
“I’m tracing the number he used to call us on.” Nico scratched his head. “The signal was scrambled and bounced through multiple towers. I’m still trying to narrow it down.”
Why didn’t that surprise me? Vincent knew what he was doing. He’d had time to plan this. And now he had Evelyn.
I dragged both hands through my hair, jaw aching from how tightly I’d been clenching it. “There must be some way we can trace her.”
Nico shot me an annoyed look. “I’m doing everything I can.”
I knew he was, but right now I could scarcely contain the fear I felt for Evelyn. I was so angry, I wanted to put my fist through the nearest wall.
“Why didn’t we see this coming?” I said, spinning to confront my mother. “I thought you two were friends.”
“We were,” she said quietly. “A long time ago.”
“Well, what the fuck happened?” I demanded.
She fixed me with a scathing look. “Don’t swear at me, Dante.”
I let out a growl and shoved my hands into my pockets. “Sorry.”
Nico smirked. My mother didn’t tolerate disrespect, and nor should she. I shouldn’t have sworn at her, but I was so fucking frustrated I didn’t know what to do with myself.
I would tear the world apart until I found her. Nothing was going to stop me. And when I did, I was never letting her go again.
It was my fault she’d gone off unprepared. My fault she’d been taken. If I hadn’t abducted her, hadn’t fallen for her and moved her into my apartment, Vincent wouldn’t be using her to get to us.
By making her mine, I’d made her a target. The thing I’d feared most had transpired. An enemy had found my weak spot and was using it against me. And now Evelyn was paying the price.
“He must have been very unhappy to resort to this level of betrayal,” Marco pointed out.
“You think?” Izzy said testily.
Everybody’s nerves were frayed.
“Dante’s right. We should have seen it coming,” Leo said, speaking for the first time. He sat in his armchair, cane resting against his knee. While he held himself upright, he seemed older somehow. More tired.
“How could we? He gave no indication that he was selling us out to the fucking cartel,” Marco retorted.
“Nico, I need to see his bank statements,” Valentina said quietly.
She appeared to be the only calm person in the room.
She sat on the sofa with one leg crossed over the other, sipping an espresso.
To anyone who didn’t know her, she might appear relaxed, but we all recognized the danger in that composure. She was furious.
Not emotionally. My mother never got outwardly emotional. Hers was a cold, ruthless fury that usually resulted in someone’s business, livelihood, or life ending abruptly. In this case, I was guessing it would be all three.
“Including the account in Zurich he thinks I don’t know about.”
Izzy raised her eyebrows at me.
I wasn’t surprised. Valentina was always one step ahead of everyone.
“I won’t be able to get in from here,” he said, shutting his laptop with a snap. “But maybe at his office…?” He turned to me.
“Fine, let’s go,” I said. It was Saturday, so Chloe would be there managing the place.
I couldn’t stand another second of sitting there doing nothing, anyway.
“Take security with you,” Marco said.
We both ignored him and walked out.
The Agora Gallery was still open when we arrived, although the elegant glass doors were closed against the rain-soaked chaos of SoHo.
Water streamed down the front windows in shimmering rivulets, distorting the muted glow from the lobby into blurred gold streaks across the pavement. Traffic hissed through the wet streets while somewhere in the distance, a siren wailed through lower Manhattan like an omen.
I knocked, barely noticing any of it. Nico stood silently beside me, his hoodie up against the deluge.
My entire body thrummed with a violent, restless energy that had nowhere to go. Every second Evelyn remained out there felt like a blade sliding deeper beneath my ribs. I couldn’t stop imagining her tied up somewhere, waiting for me to come for her.
The thought was driving me slowly insane.
I shoved through the gallery doors the second Chloe buzzed me in.
The young receptionist looked up from behind her marble desk.
“Mr. Marcelli. What are you doing here?” She glanced from me to my brother and back again. “Is something wrong?”
“Where’s Vincent’s office?” I barked.
Chloe visibly flinched. “It’s halfway down the hall on the left. What’s… what’s happened?”
“Evelyn’s been taken,” Nico said, filling her in.
“Oh God. Is she…? Is she okay?”
“We don’t know.” He strode down the hall after me.
We got to Vincent’s office and Nico sat down at his desk, upon which sat a flat-screen computer. “If he accessed his bank on this machine, I’ll be able to hack it,” he said flatly.
I hoped to God he could.
Leaving him to it, I turned my attention to the binders and folders stacked on the shelves on the opposite side of the office. They were labeled according to the tax year and went back five years. As long as Vincent had been freelancing at the Agora.
I looked at a few only to find they were legitimate tax returns, supporting documentation, and printed invoices. Nothing useful.
Thumbing through the other folders, I saw it was all gallery business. Nothing to do with Vincent’s personal life and no indication whatsoever of where he might have taken Evelyn.
“I’m in,” Nico announced, reaching for the landline. “Going to call Valentina. She wants details.”
I gave a stiff nod and walked back to the main part of the gallery, where I could hear Chloe talking to a customer. When I turned the corner and stepped into the room, I saw it was Mikhail Orlov.
What the fuck was he doing here?
He clocked me at the same time and his face morphed into an expression of controlled menace. I saw his hand shift to his inside blazer pocket and guessed he was carrying a concealed weapon.
It didn’t matter. So was I.
I didn’t reach for it though, and after a beat, Orlov dropped his hand to his side.
“Marcelli. I’m here to see Evelyn. I understand she’s not currently available.” He nodded at Chloe, whose face was pale and blotchy from crying, mascara smudged beneath her frightened eyes.
“No. She’s not.” I didn’t elaborate. Orlov might be a friend of Evelyn’s, but he was nothing to me. Less than nothing.
I noticed his silver hair was disheveled, like he’d run his hand through it too many times. His dark wool coat was damp from the rain, and he had circles underneath his eyes.
The turf war was taking its toll on him too.
“How long has she been missing?” he asked.
I glared at Chloe. She swallowed and looked down at her hands.
Orlov fixed his gaze on me. “Do you know who’s taken her?”
I scowled at him. “It is none of your concern.”
“Actually, if it has to do with Los Santos Rotos, it is very much my concern.”
“It’s not them,” I said, relenting and giving him something. I didn’t need the fucking Bratva on my case over this.
“Then who?” His eyes narrowed.
I hesitated. It went against every instinct I possessed to give a Russian Bratva consigliere information this sensitive.
Under normal circumstances, I would have told him to fuck off and mind his own business, but he was well connected in art circles, and he might know something that would help me find her.
“Vincent Calabria.”
Chloe gasped. “Vincent? No way. That’s impossible. Vincent would never—”
I silenced her with a look.
Emitting something that sounded like a cross between a sob and a gasp, she sank down behind her large, marble desk.
For a long moment, Orlov simply stared at me, then his expression darkened. “When?”
“Today, around noon.”
He glanced at his watch. “Four hours ago.”
I nodded, knowing he was mentally calculating the odds of finding Evelyn alive. I’d been doing that since the moment I’d heard she’d been taken.
“Vincent was a rat. He was selling information to the cartel for financial gain,” I explained, a tight edge to my voice. Orlov was still my enemy, but we had a bigger problem now.
Understanding spread across the Russian’s face. “The cartel stole your shipment?”
I gave a terse nod. It sucked admitting that to my family’s rival, but there it was.
“He’s probably been doing the same thing to you,” I said. I had no proof of that, but I needed Orlov focused on Vincent and the cartel, not us. “Vincent’s been helping the cartel destabilize both the Bratva and the Marcellis so they can move in on the city while we tear each other apart.”
Silence settled heavily between us.
“We are already at war,” Orlov said softly, but I heard the steel beneath it.
Rain battered the windows behind him, the sound filling the gallery like distant applause.
“I know.”
The silence stretched out. Orlov stared past me at one of Evelyn’s installations, a massive abstract oil painting in crimson and black, but I got the feeling he wasn’t really seeing it.
Eventually, he pursed his lips and turned back to me. “What are you doing to get her back?”
Not enough.
“We’re looking for leads. Someplace he might have taken her. So far, we’ve found nothing.”
Orlov frowned. “When I tell Sergei what you have said, he will tear New York apart looking for this man.”
“He’ll have to get in line,” I snarled. I was going to break Vincent with my bare fucking hands. Then I was going to take down every last cartel member in my city and burn their fucking organization to the ground.
Orlov studied me. “It sounds to me like we both want the same thing.”
“So?”
“I propose a temporary alliance. We join forces to get Evelyn back and—” his pale eyes turned glacial— “destroy Los Santos Rotos.”
I stared at him. Not once in the history of my family’s organization had the Bratva and the Marcellis joined forces. It was unheard of.
But this was potentially the end of us if we didn’t see it through. Under the circumstances, exceptions had to be made. I was sure Valentina would understand.
I gave a stark nod and held out my hand. “Deal.”
His grip was hard. Two predators making peace for the sake of war.
As soon as I’d released his hand, he dove for his phone and made a call. He spoke fast in Russian, and I couldn’t be sure, but I guessed he was informing Malakov of what had transpired.
I didn’t call anyone.
Instead, I waited. My suspicions were confirmed when he said, “Sergei agrees. He’s also concerned about the welfare of Evelyn and will do everything in his power to help you find her.”
I grunted. “Just remember, Vincent’s mine.”
Orlov gave a curt nod. “I can live with that.”
We were still standing in the middle of the gallery when Nico strode into the room.
Both men froze.
“Excuse me,” I said to Orlov, and walked over to my brother. I put a hand on his shoulder. “What have you got?”
Nico stared past me at Orlov. “What the fuck is he doing here?”
“He’s got a vested interest,” I muttered. “What have you got?”
Nico grabbed my arm and pulled me back into the hallway out of sight. “Have you lost your goddamn mind?”
“For fuck’s sake, Orlov’s going to help us find Vincent.”
“Yeah, right. What does he care if Vincent has Evelyn?”
“Because he wants Los Santos Rotos and Vincent knows how to get to them. Trust me on this. It’s all under control.”
Nico looked at me darkly. “For the record, I don’t fucking like it.”
“You don’t have to like it. Now tell me what you know.”
“Jesus Christ. Mom’s going to love this.”
“Nico,” I snapped. I didn’t have time for this. Evelyn’s life hung in the balance.
“The tracker in the watch just came back online,” he said grouchily.
Adrenaline crashed through me. “It did? Where?”
“Signal’s coming from the Brooklyn docks. Looks like the old warehouse district near Red Hook.”
The docks. An isolated, industrial area that not many people ventured into, especially not this time of night. I swallowed. Easy for people to disappear there.
“Send me the coordinates.”
Nico gave a terse nod and strode off down the hall.
I returned to Orlov.
“We’ve got a possible location for Evelyn,” I told him, marching straight past him toward the front door. There wasn’t a moment to waste. “The warehouse district near the docks.”
Orlov spun around and followed, pulling out his phone. He barked instructions to someone on the other end in Russian.
I pulled open the gallery door and the rain immediately hit us in the face. Sharp diagonal shards, stinging as they struck. Somewhere over Manhattan, thunder rumbled.
“Will you let me know?” Chloe pleaded, standing up behind the reception desk. “You know, if you find her.”
When, not if.
I nodded, and then Orlov and I walked out into the storm together.