Chapter 1
Nico
“Is this the place?” I ask as we pull up to the warehouse, the engine idling low beneath me.
Fabio nods from the passenger seat. “Yeah. According to Tolya’s intel. One of Rocco’s old meat-packing fronts. If Eva’s here, she’s inside.”
Fabio is my righthand man, sharp as a knife and as loyal as they come.
I stare out the windshield.
Eva is my sister. The best part of my childhood, and the only person who ever made our fucked-up world feel less cursed. At my behest, she married Tolya who was Bratva blood. A boss in his own right. Cold as steel when he has to be, but for Eva? He’d burn the world down.
And now she’s missing. I made her a part of this world, but I swore she would never get consumed by it.
Not on my watch.
The warehouse in front of us looks like hell’s waiting room: cracked bricks, rusted siding, windows sealed shut with plywood and regret. This was one of Onofrio’s spots before I ended him.
He never did clean up after himself.
I cut the engine and step out, boots crunching on gravel. I flex my knuckles as I walk to the main door, my heart a hammer behind my ribs.
I push it open. It groans like it’s in pain.
Time to find my sister.
Fabio’s voice crackles in my earpiece. “Portside is clear. Tolya’s sweeping the docks. No sign of her.”
“Copy,” I mutter. “We’re going in.”
I lead the team down the main corridor. The air’s thick with mildew and grease. Every step echoes off the metal beams above us. My fingers tighten around my Beretta.
We sweep through room after room, each one emptier than the last. Dust clings to every surface. Old crates line the walls, long abandoned. There’s nothing. No sign of Eva. No sign of anyone.
Then Fabio halts in front of a rusted metal door at the end of the corridor. His hand lifts, and he knocks. There’s a sound. A scrape of movement behind the door. Someone’s there.
Fabio glances back at me. I nod.
He raises his leg and kicks the door open.
The door slams back into the wall with a crack. The room inside is dim. One bare bulb swings from the ceiling, casting a harsh, yellow light that flickers every few seconds. The air here is the type that sticks to your tongue. It smells like rust and mold.
And in the center of the room, slumped against a support pipe, is a woman.
She is not Eva.
She sits motionless, wrists bound in front of her with thick rope, her ankles tied tight enough to leave dark bands across the skin.
Her legs are bare from the knee down, scraped and bruised.
She’s wearing a blouse, once white, now torn at the shoulder and stained with dirt and blood.
Her skirt is wrinkled, twisted around her hips like someone dragged her by it.
She is thin. Not from body type, but from neglect. Starvation. Her skin is pale, the kind of pale that hasn’t seen sunlight in weeks. There are bruises scattered across her arms, some fresh, some old. One eye is slightly swollen. Her lower lip is split. But her expression isn’t frightened.
It’s blank. Like she’s floated somewhere far away.
Her hair is long and tangled, dark brown, almost black in the shadows. It falls over her shoulders in wild knots. Her lashes are thick, framing wide hazel eyes that hold no trust and no expectation. Her face is oval-shaped, delicate, maybe even beautiful beneath the damage.
She watches me.
Something about her stare makes the room tilt.
Fabio clears his throat. “Who is she?” I ask.
“Could be one of Rocco’s girls. Maybe an informant. She didn’t scream when we came in. She’s not shocked.”
I take a step forward.
Her hair falls over one eye—messy, reddish-brown, tangled to hell. She doesn’t cower.
Her face is pale, but her jaw stays locked.
“She doesn’t look like bait,” I say.
“She could still be,” Fabio replies. “Want us to clear her?”
The woman shifts. Her gaze tightens when he says that. There’s a flicker in her expression. Just the smallest pulse of disdain.
I watch her longer than I should.
“Take her,” I say.
Fabio glances sideways. “To the cells?”
“No.” My voice is sharp. “Back with us. She might be connected to Eva’s disappearance. We question her properly.”
Two men step forward. One grips her arm. She winces.
“Careful,” I snap.
The soldier flinches and loosens his hold.
They lift her by both arms.
She stumbles, but she doesn’t cry out. She looks back at me just before they lead her out. Her body hangs heavier than it should for her size. She stumbles once, knees trembling, but she doesn’t make a sound.
And just as they reach the doorway, she stops, turns her head and then she looks straight at me.
She studies me like she is memorizing my face. Her eyes are dry but red-rimmed. Her mouth quivers, blood on the edge of her lips, but she doesn’t speak.
There’s no plea in her face. No gratitude either.
For a second, I think she might say something. But she stays silent.
They pull her out of the room and her eyes stay on mine until the hallway swallows her completely.
I stand still for several seconds. My hands are balled into fists at my sides. My breath feels too slow, too forced.
This wasn’t what I came here for. I came for Eva.
I came to save my sister. I finally reach for the holster at my hip and slide my gun back into place.
My phone buzzes in my jacket pocket.
I answer it without checking the screen.
Tolya’s voice is calm. “I’ve found her. Eva’s with me. She’s safe.”
I close my eyes and relief cuts through me. But even as I exhale, my mind doesn’t let go of the girl they just dragged out.
I didn’t come for her. But I saw her. And now I can’t unsee her.
The estate gates open creaking like old bones. Tolya’s men bow as I pass. The SUV crunches over the soil and pulls up beneath the portico. I step out and adjust my cuffs.
One of Tolya’s men opens the door before I knock. His frame fills it broad shoulders, black shirt rolled at the sleeves, faint shadows under his eyes. He looks me over, then opens the door wider.
“She’s inside,” he says, “we found her.”
I nod. “Is she awake?”
“She is resting, he is with her.”
He motions me inside and. I follow him through the entryway. The place smells like cedar, coffee, and something sweet.
We stop at the door, and I inhale and knock.
I knock.
“Come in,” someone says, and I step inside.
The lights are soft in there. Eva is lying in bed, propped up by pillows. Her face is pale, bruised around the cheek and temple, but her eyes are alert. She looks tired. Her hands aren't trembling. That alone slows my breath.
Beside her is Tolya, I let my eyes settle on her first.
“I didn’t mean to interrupt,” I say, my voice softer than I expected it to come out. A faint smile tugs at the corner of my mouth. “I just wanted to check on my little sister before I go.”
When she sees me, her entire face lights up.
She moves gently, slowly rolling onto her other side and reaching out for me. “Nico,” she breathes, her voice thick with something warm and cracked. “Come here.”
I cross the room cautiously. I keep my distance from Tolya, not wanting to intrude more than I already have. Still, I move to the other side of the bed and lean down as Eva wraps one arm around me and pulls me into a hug.
Her fingers twist into the front of my shirt.
She presses her cheek against my shoulder and exhales slowly. I feel how much she’s been holding in.
“You’re going to be the best uncle ever,” she murmurs.
I freeze. It takes me a second to register the words. Then I feel it. It pushes deep into my chest. I crack a smile for perhaps the first time that week.
“You really think I’m uncle material?” I mutter, my tone dry, falling into old habits because I don’t know what else to do with the feeling swelling in my throat.
Eva pulls back just enough to look at me. Her eyes are glassy, but she’s smiling. “You’re bossy, dramatic, and annoyingly protective. You’ll be perfect.”
My mouth twitches. I let out a breath that might be a laugh, even if it’s small.
“You scared the hell out of me,” I admit.
Her fingers squeeze tighter into my shirt. “Me too.”
I glance across the bed, Tolya still sitting beside her. He hasn’t spoken. I feel him watching. Does he know I am grateful he was here when I couldn’t be?
Eventually, I straighten and step back.
“I’ve got to go take care of a few things,” I say, glancing between the two of them. “I just wanted to see for myself that you were… you know, alive.”
I know I have to let them have their time together.
“Alive and healing,” Eva replies, her smile crooked with effort.
I pause at the door. My hand rests on the frame.
I look back once more, and catch her watching me with that old warmth in her eyes. I don’t say what I want to. That I was scared I’d never see her again. That I don’t know what I’d do without her.
So instead, I smile.
“Guess I’ve got some baby shopping to do.”
I turn the handle, open the door. Just before stepping through, I call back, “I’m going to spoil that kid rotten. Just so you know.”
I should tell them about the woman. Tolya would want to know.
I don’t. I give Eva a smile and she blows me a kiss before I leave the room.
Back in the car, I sit in silence as the driver pulls away. The sun bleeds across the windshield.
I close my eyes for half a second.
But it isn’t Eva’s smile I see.
It’s hers.
The door to the basement groans as I push it open. The light is harsh and it paints everyone in shades of gray.
Four of my men are in the room. They part just enough to let me step through.
The woman is sitting on the metal chair in the center, wrists bound, shoulders slumped. Her knees are drawn inward, feet bare on the cold concrete floor. She looks small, like something already broken—but still somehow refusing to fall apart.
Fabio stands closest, arms folded across his chest.
“She’s barely talking,” he says. “Won’t give us much.”
I glance at her. Her hair’s damp, stuck to her head. Dirt clings to her skin. Her lip is still bleeding.
One of my soldiers, Maurice, leans closer to her. He reaches out, fingers brushing the bruise on her jaw.
Rage punches through my chest.
“Step. Back.” My voice slices through the room.