20. Milo
MILO
“We’re definitely heading in the right direct,” I say, my eyes scanning the surroundings as Kobek drives with a calm assurance.
That said, the drive upstate takes longer than I expect.
The roads grow narrower, winding through dense forest and past forgotten towns until Kobek finally slows the sedan and pulls off onto a dirt track hidden behind overgrown brush.
We stop just out of sight of the main road, the engine ticking quietly as it cools.
Through the trees ahead, I can see it… the entrance to the Lentini compound.
It is exactly as I remembered, only more imposing now.
A heavily gated entrance with thick steel bars and concrete pillars.
Security cameras are subtly placed in the trees on either side, their lenses barely visible unless you know exactly where to look.
The gate itself looks new, reinforced, with spikes along the top.
This is no longer just a family retreat.
It is a fortress.
“Yup, this is it,” I say. “No doubt in my mind.”
Kobek kills the engine and raises a high-powered camera with a long lens. He starts taking photos, sending them immediately to Maxim through an encrypted link. I sit beside him in the passenger seat, heart pounding, trying to stay calm.
“Looks quiet,” Kobek mutters, adjusting the zoom. “No visible movement at the gate. But those cameras are live. We cannot get any closer.”
I nod, my mouth dry.
The compound feels like a sleeping beast behind the trees.
I remember the high stone walls, the private dock, the way the house sat right on the cliffs overlooking the water.
My father brought me here once when I was little.
It was supposed to be a fun weekend away from the city.
Instead, it became one of the last clear memories I have of him.
I close my eyes and let the flashback pull me under…
MANY YEARS AGO…
I am nine years old, barefoot in one of the upstairs hallways of the big house. It is late, way past my bedtime, but shouting woke me…
Angry voices. The mind I should avoid.
But that’s not me. When I sense danger, I move toward it.
I creep down the wide wooden staircase, careful not to make a sound, clutching my stuffed rabbit to my chest. The argument is coming from the study. I crouch low near the floor and peer through the narrow crack in the door.
Papa and Uncle Paolo are inside. Papa is pacing, hands clenched at his sides. Uncle Paolo sits behind the big desk, calm as always, but his eyes are cold.
“You’re going too far, Paolo,” Papa says, his voice low and furious. “This isn’t how we do things. Not anymore.”
Paolo leans back in the chair. “The family needs strength, not your soft heart. We have opportunities. Real power. You’re either with us or you’re in the way.”
Papa slams his hand on the desk. “I won’t let you drag us into that. Never. And certainly not like this.”
The argument grows louder.
I press myself smaller against the wall, heart racing. Suddenly Papa storms toward the door. I barely have time to duck behind a cabinet before he charges out, slamming the door behind him. He doesn’t see me. He never sees me.
With Papa gone, I creep closer again and look through the crack. Uncle Paolo is alone now. He picks up the phone on the desk, dials a number, and speaks in a low whisper I can barely hear.
“There is no going back now.”
PRESENT DAY…
I open my eyes with a sharp inhale. The memory hits me like a punch to the chest. That phone call. The cold finality in Uncle Paolo’s voice. I always thought my father’s death was the result of a rival hit, some old feud.
But now… now I wonder if Paolo had something to do with it.
Did he removed his own brother to clear the path for his vision of the family?
“Milo?” Kobek asks, noticing my expression. “You okay?”
I swallow hard. “We need to leave. We need to leave right now.”
Kobek doesn’t argue. He puts the car into gear and starts reversing slowly down the dirt track. But we have only gone a few meters when the sound of gunfire erupts behind us: sharp, rapid cracks that shatter the quiet afternoon.
“Shit!” Kobek swerves, accelerating hard.
I twist in my seat and look back. A row of Lentini men with assault rifles are scrambling out from hidden positions near the gate, jumping into two black SUVs. They are coming after us.
“Kobek, they’re following!” I shout.
“I see them,” he replies through gritted teeth, pushing the sedan faster along the narrow track.
I turn to look at him and my stomach drops. A red patch is spreading across the front of his shirt, just below his shoulder.
Blood.
He has been hit.
“Kobek… you’re bleeding!” I cry, reaching for him.
He grimaces but keeps his eyes on the road, one hand pressed to the wound. “It’s through and through. I’ll live. Just hold on.”
The pursuing SUVs are gaining. Bullets ping off the back of our car. I duck low in my seat, heart hammering, as Kobek swerves onto the main road, tires screaming. The chase is on.
And all I can think about is getting back to Maxim alive…
Kobek is a great getaway driver, but I can see that he is getting weaker at the wheel. His face has gone pale, sweat beading on his forehead, and his shirt is now almost entirely blood red.
The wound is worse than he let on.
Every time Kobek breathes, a wet, rattling sound comes from his chest. His hands are trembling on the steering wheel, knuckles white where they’re not stained with blood.
“Kobek,” I say, my voice shaking but trying to stay calm. “You’ve done a great job. We’re far enough ahead of the Lentini men now. Pull over. We need to switch positions.”
He grits his teeth, eyes flicking to the rearview mirror.
The pursuing SUVs are no longer visible in the distance, but we’ll need to be quick to keep it that way.
“I can keep driving,” he mutters, stubborn as ever.
“No, you can’t,” I insist, reaching over to grip his arm. “You’re losing too much blood. If you pass out at the wheel, we’re both dead. Please. Let me drive.”
Kobek hesitates for another few seconds, then finally nods.
He pulls the sedan over onto a narrow shoulder hidden by thick trees.
The moment the car stops, he slumps sideways.
I jump out, run around to the driver’s side, and help him into the back seat.
He’s heavy, but adrenaline gives me strength.
I grab a thick towel from the emergency kit in the trunk and press it hard against his chest.
“Hold this tight,” I tell him. “Don’t let go.”
Kobek nods weakly, pressing the towel over the wound as he lies across the rear seats.
His breathing is shallow now, labored. I look at him in the rearview mirror as I slam the driver’s door shut and put the car in gear.
He does not have much time. I can see it in the way his eyes are glazing over, the way his skin is turning grey.
I change the destination on the satnav to the nearest hospital, a regional medical center about twenty-five minutes away according to the map.
This is a huge risk.
Hospitals mean records, cameras, questions. But if Kobek does not get medical attention ASAP, he will die right here in the back seat and I cannot let that happen.
As I accelerate hard down the road, I grab my phone and call Maxim. He answers on the second ring.
“Milo? What is happening?” His voice is sharp with worry.
“We’re being chased,” I say quickly, eyes flicking between the road and the mirror. “Kobek is shot. He’s losing a lot of blood. I’m driving us to the nearest hospital. It’s the only way.”
Maxim curses in Russian. “Do not go to the hospital. It is too dangerous. They will be watching medical centers, will have men on the inside there if it’s near their compound. Tell me your location. I will send a team to extract you.”
“There is no time,” I reply, my voice breaking. “He’s dying, Maxim. I have to get him help now.”
The line is silent for a beat. Then Maxim speaks again, voice tight. “Fine. Go to the hospital. But be careful. I will come to you.”
“No,” I say firmly. “It is too risky. Stay where you are, handle your business. I will call you when we are safe.”
I hang up before my Daddy can argue.
My hands are shaking on the wheel, but I keep my foot pressed to the floor. The car flies down the rural roads, tires screeching on the turns.
I glance in the rearview mirror again.
No one is following us right now—thank God—but that could change in an instant. I need to put as much distance as possible between us and those Lentini SUVs.
Kobek groans from the back seat. “Milo… you should not have… risked this.”
“Shut up and save your strength,” I snap, trying to keep my voice steady. “You are not dying on me today. Maxim would kill me if I let that happen.”
A weak chuckle escapes him, followed by a wet cough. Blood flecks the towel.
I push the car faster, the satnav counting down the minutes to the hospital. My mind races.
What if the Leones have people watching the hospital?
What if we are walking into a trap?
But Kobek’s breathing is getting shallower. I have no choice.
“Come on,” I whisper, both to myself and to him. “Just hold on a little longer.”
The road straightens out. I floor it, the engine roaring. Trees blur past on either side. In the mirror, Kobek’s eyes are half-closed, but he is still pressing the towel to his chest. He is fighting. Good. I need him to keep fighting.
I think back to the compound, to that childhood memory of my father storming out after arguing with Paolo.
The whispered phone call. “There is no going back now.” The more I replay it, the more certain I become that my uncle had something to do with my father’s death.
The realization sits like ice in my stomach.
If that is true, then everything I thought I knew about my family is a lie.
But right now, none of that matters.
Right now, I just need to get Kobek to the hospital alive.
The satnav says twelve minutes. I grip the wheel tighter and pray we can make it in ten…
The hospital parking lot comes into view like a beacon of desperate hope. I screech the sedan into the emergency entrance, tires squealing against the asphalt.
Kobek is barely conscious in the back seat now, his breathing shallow and ragged. The towel pressed to his chest is soaked through with blood.
I jump out of the driver’s seat and yank open the rear door.
“Kobek, stay with me,” I plead, sliding my arm under his shoulders. “We’re here. Just a little further.”
He groans but manages to nod.
Together we stagger toward the automatic doors of the ER.
He is heavy, leaning almost all his weight on me, but adrenaline and sheer terror keep me moving.
The doors slide open and a nurse behind the triage desk looks up, eyes widening at the sight of us: me in blood-stained clothes, Kobek pale and bleeding heavily.
“Help!” I shout. “He’s been shot!”
Chaos erupts instantly. Two orderlies rush forward with a gurney. They take Kobek from me and lay him down. A doctor appears almost immediately, barking orders as they wheel him away through the swinging doors into the treatment area.
I try to follow, but a nurse gently holds me back.
“You need to stay here and let us work,” he says firmly. “Are you hurt?”
I shake my head, tears stinging my eyes. “No. Just him. Please… save him.”
He nods and hurries after the team. I am left standing in the bright, sterile waiting area, blood on my hands and clothes, heart pounding so hard I feel dizzy. I
pull out my phone with shaking fingers and try Maxim. It goes straight to voicemail. I try again… same thing.
A third time. Nothing.
Worry coils tight in my stomach. Something is wrong. Maxim always answers. Always. Unless… unless something has happened to him too.
Kobek’s weak voice cuts through my panic. He has been wheeled back out briefly on the gurney while they prepare an operating room. His eyes are glassy but focused on me.
“Milo,” he rasps. “Take the car. Get the hell out of here. I can look after myself now.”
I shake my head, tears spilling over. “I can’t just leave you.”
“You must,” he insists, coughing wetly. “If they followed us, they will come here. Go. Tell Maxim… tell him I did my job.”
The orderlies start wheeling him away again. I stand there frozen for a second, torn between staying and running.
Then I make the decision.
Kobek is right.
If the Leones tracked us, staying here puts everyone in danger. I wipe my eyes, turn, and run back out to the car…
I jump behind the wheel, start the engine, and peel out of the parking lot. My hands are still shaking, but I grip the wheel tighter and make a beeline back toward the city. The satnav guides me onto the highway. I keep checking the mirrors, terrified I will see black SUVs closing in behind me.
The drive feels endless. Every mile is filled with worry for Kobek, for Maxim, for what this all means.
I try Maxim’s phone again. Still straight to voicemail.
The silence on the other end terrifies me more than the gunshots did.
What if something has happened to him? What if the Leones struck while we were upstate? What if I am driving toward even more danger?
Tears blur my vision, but I blink them away and keep driving.
I have to get back. I must find Maxim. I need to tell him what I remembered about that night at the compound… the argument, the phone call, the chilling finality in Paolo’s voice.
I press the accelerator harder, the engine roaring as I race toward the city.
I just hope Maxim is still there when I arrive.