Chapter 37
ADRIANO
I stare at my phone, reading the message for the tenth time. The number is unknown, but the information is detailed. Too detailed for some butt dial.
Ivan + Vitales planning ambush at Friday shipment. DO NOT GO.
My first thought is how the fuck do so many people know the details of our business?
My next thought is that it’s some sort of Bratva scheme, wanting us to question Vitale so he’s not there to help thwart a Bratva attack.
Still, something doesn't add up. This doesn't read like a trap. It reads like a desperate warning.
I study the screen and number as if more information will suddenly manifest.
The sender knows about the shipment, information that only a handful of people possess. They suggest that Vitale is working with Ivan, which connects with my gut feeling from our meeting with Marco the other day.
Then it hits. Could this be Eva? If Ivan is plotting something, she’s in a position to know about it.
I can’t stop the relief that floods me at thinking she might still be alive. But if it is her, is it a warning or is it part of her plan working with Ivan? Except why would she warn me about an ambush if she's working with them?
I close my eyes, forcing my brain to think clearly, but there is too much contradictory information ricocheting around my head.
"Fuck.”
I don't know what to believe anymore. Is she Ivan's willing spy or his captive? Is this message a trap or a desperate attempt to save me?
If I believe it’s Eva, do I trust her?
Either way, I need to share this with Alessandro. I storm into his office. He's on the phone but ends the call when he sees my expression.
"What?" he asks, leaning back in his chair.
I toss my phone onto his desk. "Read it."
Alessandro picks up the device, his eyes narrowing as he scrolls through the message. His face gives nothing away, but I notice the subtle tightening of his jaw.
"Another game," he finally says, sliding the phone back to me. "The Bratva are getting desperate."
"Maybe," I concede. "Except it confirms the doubt I’ve had about Marco Vitale. If this is a double-cross by him and he’s working with the Bratva, we’re fucked.”
“Who even sent this?”
“I think it’s Eva.”
He rolls his eyes. “Fucking hell, Adriano. You can’t possibly still believe in her. Not after everything she’s done?"
I don't know what I believe anymore. The woman I loved, the mother of my child, or the spy who betrayed my family. Which version of her is real? All I know is that something about this message rings true.
"It doesn't matter what I believe about Eva," I say. "What matters is this information gives us an edge. If they're planning to ambush our shipment tomorrow, they expect us to walk right into it."
Alessandro leans forward, interest finally sparking in his eyes. "And you think we should use this against them."
"Now that we know, we can set a trap of our own. Vitale says he’ll be there to help us, but he’s with Bratva. Call him. Tell him we don’t need him.”
“If the Bratva is planning an attack, we will need him—”
“Not if he’s with Ivan. We need a plan of our own.
One that takes them by surprise. Delay the shipment.
They can live a day off the coast. It’s short notice, but we can bring in Luca and Cristian.
I bet they can share a few men. And Pauly Colombino in Brooklyn owes you.
We get there early and surprise them. Take the Bratva out once and for all, and the Vitales while we’re at it. ”
Alessandro considers this. “It would be fucking nice to get rid of Ivan once and for all.”
I nod. "Ivan thinks he's clever, but he's predictable. If we move first, change the parameters, we can finish this tomorrow."
“It’s short notice for Luca.”
I shrug. “Pauly can make it. Either way, we can't ignore this warning."
Alessandro steeples his fingers, gaze fixed somewhere beyond me as he deliberates. "Fine. We adjust our plans. Redirect the shipment, set up a counter-ambush. If the Bratva are planning to hit us, we'll be ready for them instead."
Relief washes through me. "I'll coordinate with—"
"Adriano." Alessandro's voice cuts through mine. "This doesn't mean Eva is on our side."
"I know that."
"Do you?" His eyes narrow. "Because I need your head clear for this. Not clouded by hope or sentiment."
I glare at him. "My head is clear."
"Good. Eva has always been your weakness—”
"Eva isn't my weakness," I snap.
Alessandro's expression tells me he doesn't believe me. "Just remember who she is, what she's done.”
“You think I don't remember that every fucking day?"
"I think you want to find reasons to forgive her."
He's right. Despite everything, some part of me still wants to believe in Eva, still hopes there's an explanation that makes sense of all her contradictions.
"This is business," I say flatly. "I'm not letting personal feelings interfere."
Alessandro nods, seemingly satisfied. "Then let's get to work. We have a trap to set."
On Friday, we arrive two hours before the scheduled shipment, moving in silence through the warehouse.
I position men at key locations, snipers on the surrounding rooftops, assault teams in the adjacent buildings, a tactical squad with me at the heart of the trap. Alessandro takes half our forces to the second location we've set up to thwart Vitale if he turns on us.
"Remember," I say into my comms, "we let them think they have the upper hand. Let them commit fully to their attack before we reveal ourselves."
I check my weapons one final time. Pistol at my hip, backup at my ankle, knife in my sleeve.
"Movement at the east entrance," a voice crackles in my ear. "Three vehicles approaching."
I press myself deeper into the shadows. "Hold positions."
The first vehicle stops at the gate. Two men exit, checking the perimeter with flashlights. They're sloppy, so sure they’re about to get the jump on us. They miss our sniper on the roof, the men stationed behind the shipping containers, the team waiting in the loading bay.
"All clear," one of them says into his radio, and the rest of their convoy rolls in.
I realize then just how many men Ivan has sent. If Vitale is with him, we’re outmanned. But I’m not worried.
They spread out through the warehouse floor, taking positions they think give them tactical advantage. They're surrounding the area where our shipment should be arriving, setting up their ambush.
We let them sit, get bored. Get antsy. It’s all part of the plan.
“Where are these guys?” One of Ivan’s men says.
“Patience.” That’s Ivan, and I smile, glad that motherfucker is here.
“They should be here by now,” another says.
“And yet they’re not. Patience.” Ivan’s tone sounds like he might start killing his own men.
“I’m bored too,” Alessandro says into my comms. “Let’s roll.”
At that, floodlights blind the Bratva men as they snap on from all directions. For one perfect moment, they're frozen in confusion, exposed and vulnerable.
Then all hell breaks loose.
Our snipers take the first shots, eliminating three of their men before anyone can react. The rest scatter, diving for cover as gunfire erupts from every direction.
I emerge from hiding, firing as I advance. Two Bratva soldiers fall before they locate me. A third manages to get off a shot that whizzes past my shoulder before my bullet finds his chest.
Ivan is shouting orders, trying to rally his men, but it's chaos. They expected to be the hunters tonight and now they're the prey. It’s almost not fair, not that I give a shit.
"Find Ivan!" I call into my comms. "He doesn't leave here alive!"
The warehouse echoes with gunfire and it’s like music to my ears. This ends tonight. These fuckers who killed my father. Who compromised the woman I loved. Who terrorized my daughter. They all die tonight.
I pivot toward a noise behind one of the shipping containers, gun raised. The space is a maze of crates and machinery, perfect for hiding.
A shadow moves to my right. I fire without hesitation, catching a Bratva soldier in the shoulder. He whips away with a curse.
The battle rages around me, but I'm focused on one target. Ivan.
I navigate around fallen bodies, mostly Bratva.
“Where’s Vitale?”
“Took off like a chicken shit,” Alessandro says. I hear him fire. “I’ll deal with him later.”
That’s good. Less men for us to kill tonight.
The gunfire has thinned out. I feel victory in my grip. I signal two of my men to circle around the eastern side while I take the western approach.
A flicker of movement catches my eye. I stalk forward, keeping my profile low as I slide behind a steel column, waiting for my shot. When a head pokes out, I shoot. It jerks back, and another Bratva bites the dust.
But where is Ivan? That's all I’m thinking about now.
I slip out from the column and in between a stack of crates, moving along the maze. I hit an intersection, carefully looking around the corner. When I see nothing, I step into the opening.
"NO!"
The scream tears through the air as a figure launches from the shadows, colliding with Ivan just as he swings his weapon toward me. Fuck. Where’d he come from?
His shot goes wild, the bullet embedding in the column beside my head.
“You fucking bitch,” he growls, grabbing the person who collided with him.
Oh, fuck. It’s Eva.
I think she just saved my life.
Ivan yanks her against him. The barrel of his gun presses into her temple.
"Drop your weapon or I paint the walls with her brains," he snarls.
I keep my gun trained on him, but for the first time ever in my life, I’m afraid to pull the trigger. Afraid I’ll miss.
Eva's eyes meet mine, wide but surprisingly steady. There's bruises on her face. She doesn't look like a willing accomplice, but for all I know, this is part of their scheme.
"Let her go," I say. "This is between you and me, Ivan."
Ivan's laugh is ugly. “Fuck you.”
“You a pussy man, Ivan?” I keep my gun trained on him, making sure if I fire, it hits him, not her. “Have to hide behind a woman? Maksim would be disgusted by you.”
“You’re the one too chicken shit to take a shot because you might hurt a woman. Who’s the pussy now?”
I spare a glance at Eva. She isn’t struggling. She doesn’t even look afraid. It’s almost as if she’s resolved to die.
Her gaze locks with mine. "I love you. I've always loved you. Tell Mirabella I love her too."
It takes me a minute, but then I realize she’s saying goodbye. She expects to die, wants to die if that's what it takes to end Ivan and save me.
She saved me.
When she knocked Ivan out of the way and yelled out at me in warning, she’d made sure Ivan’s bullet didn’t hit me. And it would have. I have no doubt.
Something shifts inside me. Whatever happened in the past, whatever I thought I heard at Ivan's house, Eva just put herself between me and a bullet. And now she's ready to die so I can end this.
I won't let her make that sacrifice.
I narrow my focus on Ivan. The crack of two guns firing splits the air. Time slows as I watch my bullet hit Ivan square between the eyes, his face freezing in surprise before his body crumples backward.
But Eva falls too. And the way she jerked to the side tells me he didn’t pull her down. No. He fired his gun. He shot Eva.
"No!" I roar, rushing forward as she collapses. Blood darkens her hair along her temple. I gather her limp form into my arms, cradling her against my chest. Her blood seeps through my shirt..
"Eva," I choke out. "Eva, stay with me."
Her eyes remain closed, face deathly pale. I press my fingers to her neck, searching desperately for a pulse.
"Get me medical help!" I shout into my comm. The warehouse spins around me as I hold her, rocking slightly. "Eva, please. Don't leave. You can’t die on me again."
This can't be happening. Not when I've just understood the truth. Not when I've finally seen through the lies and manipulations that kept us apart. Not when I know when it came down to it, she chose me.
I failed her. I let my doubts blind me, let Alessandro's suspicions poison my trust. And now she's bleeding out in my arms, having sacrificed herself to save me, the man who abandoned her to Ivan's cruelty.
"Wake up," I whisper, pressing my forehead to hers. "Please wake up. Mirabella needs you." I swallow hard. "I need you."
Something wet slides down my cheek. I'm crying. I haven't cried since I thought Eva died the first time. Now history repeats itself.
"I love you," I tell her, words I should have said days ago. "I love you, and I'm sorry. I'm sorry I left you with him."
But my sorry is too little, too late. Losing her again is my punishment for not protecting her as I promised I would do.