Chapter 6
Dmitri
I barely step into the antique shop before I stop cold.
Twenty of my men are waiting for me.
“Why are you all here?” I question them. They close in, turning the cluttered shop into a cage.
“We need answers,” Emil states as he moves to step in front of me, blocking my path to the hallway that leads to where Brendan is being held.
I narrow my eyes as I whirl around on the spot, facing all of them as they stare at me with unwavering looks. “Did any of you speak to my prisoner?”
“No,” Mark replies from my left. “But we want to know why he’s here.”
“You know what he is,” I say. These men are loyal to me, but they’re also loyal to our family. If what I’m doing might negatively affect the family, they’ll push back on me.
Some of them may have already informed the vor v zakone that I’ve taken an Irish prisoner captive.
“Did he have anything to do with the shooting at the Wynn? Or the warehouse one? Or the snipers?” Isaak questions me. “That’s why you wanted us to grab him, right? To question him about that shit?”
“That’s part of it,” I reply, knowing that I’ll have to come clean. They’ll figure it out for themselves soon because they aren’t stupid. They’ll piece things together. “The Irish did the warehouse shooting, but they didn’t take credit for the others.”
“You really believe him?” Denis questions me from my right.
“I’m not a hundred percent certain about the last attack, but I believe that the Irish weren’t behind the attack at the Wynn,” I state as my head turns his way. “Not their style.”
I still blame them for Mikhail’s death, though. Not that I think a foot soldier like Brendan would know anything about that.
I take a deep breath, but it doesn’t calm me in the slightest. I came here for a reason, and the men decided to choose right now to confront me. I need to act, not to stand around and answer their questions.
“What’s the other reason you asked us to capture him?” Isaak breaks the silence.
“And who are you keeping in your penthouse? It’s Cara, isn’t it?” Emil questions as he lifts an eyebrow.
They’re already starting to piece things together, so I might as well get this over with.
“I set a trap. Only Cara knew. The Irish showed,” I say, immediately hearing angry murmurs all around me. “I questioned our prisoner and he gave me the truth. Cara was a plant. And she’s O’Malley’s daughter.”
The shop erupts.
I uncurl my fingers, not even realizing that my hands were balled up in fists. Now they’re clammy and shaky.
Just like the rest of my body.
It feels like I’m coming down with a fever, but I know it’s just the anger and the slew of other emotions ricocheting throughout my brain right now. I don’t even know how to feel, but I don’t really have the option of taking the time to figure it out.
Everything has gone to shit, and I have to try to pick up the mess.
“What are you going to do with her?” Ivan asks me, lifting his voice above the others.
“She’s a liability.”
“She’s a traitor.”
“We have to send a message.”
My heart pounds as my eyes shift around, taking in the fury of my men as they process the news. I’m sure some are shocked. Others, like Emil, are probably not.
Most of our men don’t trust others, and I’m usually on board with that because the people who can hurt you the most are the ones who are closest to you.
But I fucked up.
I let Cara get in my head, and, worst of all, I let her dig her way into my heart.
“We need to kill her. She knows too much about us,” Denis adds. “If she escapes, who knows what else she’ll tell the Irish fuckers? We’re already exposed enough as it is!”
“I told you all that something was up with her. I told you that she was suspicious,” Emil grits out as he turns around to look at everyone. “She can’t go unpunished for this.”
“Everyone, shut up!” I bark, making all the overlapping voices quiet down to a tense silence. “She doesn’t die today.”
As shouts of disagreement thunder in my ears, I close my eyes for a second and squeeze them tight, fighting the ache in my head. I’ve already threatened Cara with death, and maybe she deserves that for all the fucked-up shit that she’s done, but I don’t think I can actually kill her.
Not with my own hands.
The thought of doing that, of never seeing her again, makes me sick to my stomach. Which makes me feel ashamed.
I shouldn’t feel conflicted about dealing out punishment to an enemy, especially one who has done as much damage as she has.
Because of her intel, the Irish might be cooking up something big.
They’ve already taken out our former Pakhan.
Now, they may have an attack planned that’ll decimate the rest of the Bratva, all made possible thanks to Cara’s help.
I have no idea of the level of harm she’s done right under my nose.
Not to mention ruining the alliance with Artur for refusing to marry Annika, setting off another goddamn war.
“What is it with her? Is she really worth a war just because she spreads her legs for you?” Emil snaps at me.
My vision goes red. I shove him into a shelf full of old vases and pottery.
Emil’s back hits the shelf hard, making all the antiques shatter on the ground around him as he crumbles to the floor.
“What the fuck, Dmitri?” Mark says as he goes to help Emil up.
I step toward Mark, making him tense up. “Leave him. He can get up on his own.”
Mark narrows his eyes, but he backs off, leaving me to stare down at Emil as he picks glass shards out of his palms.
“You’re short-sighted and impatient. Instead of killing her, we can use her against her father,” I state in a cold voice.
Emil glares up at me, blood dripping off his hands onto the floor. “How?”
“I’m getting there,” I say as I cross my arms over my chest, making things up as I go. I don’t have any plans for Cara because I have no idea what to do about her.
“Does O’Malley know we have her? We can hold that over his head. Maybe get him to back off and stop the attacks,” Leo suggests.
I think back to what Cara said. She insisted that Sean doesn’t even see her as his daughter, that he hates her. Was she being truthful or just lying to me again?
Why would Sean trust her with such an important mission if he didn’t believe in her?
There are so many pieces that I still need to uncover.
“He’ll know soon. Brendan won’t come home,” I reply as I nod my head in the direction of Brendan. “It won’t be long before they reach out with demands. We need to be ready for that.”
Emil shakes his head as he pushes himself to his feet, glass shards raining off his clothes and clattering against the floor. “I don’t see how keeping her as a prisoner will do us any favors. O’Malley is a cold bastard. He might not even care that we have her.”
“I guess we’ll see, won’t we? It’s better than killing her and possibly missing out on a chance to use her,” I point out before turning to the others. “No one touches either prisoner. No one speaks to them. Not a word.”
“You shouldn’t handle it all alone,” Isaak tells me. “We can help.”
I scoff at him. “Things are a mess right now, but the Ivanovs are still the most powerful players on the board. We’ll stay that way if you get your shit together and do as you’re told.”
There isn’t a single murmur in response, leaving the room dead silent and tense. They might be pissed at me for some of my decisions lately, but I couldn’t give a damn. I’m still in charge.
“What now, boss?” Leo asks me.
“I’m going to question Brendan some more about Cara and what plans the Irish have,” I reply as I lower my arms. “Cara is tied up in my penthouse, where she’ll remain. I don’t want any of you going in there. Only I deal with her.”
My men nod all around me.
“Double patrols. Warehouses. Offices. Properties. No one moves alone. Expect a hit,” I tell all of them.
“We should leave at least one guard here,” Mark tells me. “We don’t want the Irish fucker to break out and go running to O’Malley.”
“One person can stand out in the hallway and guard,” I reply. “But I don’t want anyone talking to him. Just me.”
More nods. More silence. Hopefully, no one tries to get smart with me again.
“Isaak, you’ll stay here,” I say as I turn to him. He might frustrate me, but he’s loyal.
Isaak nods. “Yes, sir.”
“The rest of you, go do your patrols. Report back anything suspicious,” I tell them as I motion for them to get out. “I’m going to question Brendan, and Isaak can stand out in the hallway.”
Isaak nods and follows me, keeping a few feet behind me.
I open the door to the interrogation room, revealing the bloody, broken mess that I left the last time I was here. I don’t remember how many times I swung. I just remember the sound after he dropped his bomb. I didn’t want to believe it was true.
Blood splatters litter the ground around Brendan, who sits still in the chair with his head hung. One leg is twisted out oddly, while blood stains his clothes.
“Brendan. Wake up,” I say as I enter the room.
He doesn’t respond.
“Get up!” I snap as I shove Brendan’s shoulder. His head lolls back down into place. For one split second, I think I killed him.
I press my fingers against his pulse point and feel a slow but steady thumping. “He’s still breathing.”
“I think you beat him so badly that he’s having a hard time coming back into consciousness, boss. Might have to check back in on him later,” Isaak tells me from the hallway.
I don’t remember dealing that much damage, but so much for questioning him again today.
Frustration ebbs through me as I turn away from Brendan, grinding my teeth. “Keep an eye on him. Make sure that he doesn’t bleed out and die, or we’ll have to go capture another of the Irish.”
“Why not question Cara?” Isaak asks.
“Because I need corroboration. I can’t trust a word out of her mouth,” I tell him before holding up a hand. “And I know I shouldn’t have in the first place. I don’t need everyone to keep telling me that shit over and over again.”
Isaak nods. “I’ll keep an eye on the Irish bastard.”
My shoulders relax a little, the exhaustion starting to hit me. This has been the day from hell. I don’t know what to do next, but everyone is looking to me for guidance.
One enemy is outside our walls.
One is inside my penthouse.
And I’m the man who has to decide which one dies first.