48. Emil
EMIL
My neck is killing me.
The thought registers before I'm fully awake, a dull ache that radiates from the base of my skull down between my shoulder blades. I shift in the chair, trying to work out the stiffness, and my eyes open to the dim light of early morning filtering through Kiera's curtains.
She's still asleep. Her breathing is deep and even, her face relaxed in a way I rarely see when she's awake. The tension that usually tightens her features is gone, leaving her looking younger, more vulnerable. One hand is curled beneath her cheek, the other resting on top of the comforter.
I watch her for a moment longer than necessary, taking in the rise and fall of her chest and the way her red hair fans across the pillow. She looks peaceful and safe. That's what matters.
Carefully, I push myself out of the chair, my muscles protesting the movement. I've slept in worse positions and places, but that doesn't make this any more comfortable. I roll my shoulders, trying to work out the knots, and move quietly to the bed.
The comforter has slipped down during the night, exposing her shoulders to the cool air of the room. I reach down and pull it back up, tucking it gently around her. She doesn't stir, doesn't even shift in her sleep. Good. She needs the rest after everything that happened last night.
I stand there for another moment, looking down at her, and my chest squeezes, almost painfully. I place a hand over the offended area and take a deep breath. Then I turn and leave the room, closing the door behind me with barely a sound.
The hallway is quiet, the estate still mostly asleep at this early hour. A few staff members are already moving about, preparing for the day, but they keep their distance when they see me. They know better than to approach the Pakhan before he's had his coffee.
But coffee will have to wait. First, I need answers.
I find the doctor in his quarters, a small suite of rooms on the first floor that serves as both his living space and a makeshift clinic.
He's already awake, dressed in slacks and a button-down shirt, reading something on his tablet.
He looks up when I knock, his expression shifting from surprise to professional concern.
"Pakhan," he says, standing. "I wasn't expecting you so early."
"I want those tests run on Kiera," I say without preamble. "Right away. I need to know what caused her to faint last night."
The doctor nods, setting his tablet aside.
"Of course. I can run a full panel this morning.
Blood work, vitals, everything. But from my preliminary examination last night, she seemed fine.
Her pulse was strong, her breathing normal.
It's likely she was just overwhelmed by stress and hadn't eaten properly. "
"I don't care what's likely," I say, my voice harder than I intend. "I want to know for certain. Run every test you can think of. And I want the results immediately."
He doesn't flinch at my tone. He's been with me long enough to know me and my moods. "Understood. I'll have everything ready within a few hours."
"Good." I turn to leave, then pause. "And doctor? If there's anything wrong with her, anything at all, I want to know about it before she does."
He hesitates, and I can see the conflict in his eyes. Doctor-patient confidentiality versus the Pakhan’s orders. But we both know which one wins. "Yes, Pakhan."
I leave him to his preparations and make my way to the dining room.
The smells of coffee and bacon reach me before I get there, and my stomach reminds me that I haven't eaten since yesterday afternoon.
The stress of last night, the shootings, Kiera's collapse, all of it has left me running on fumes.
When I enter the dining room, I find it already occupied.
Kiera's four brothers are seated around the long mahogany table, along with Luca, who's positioned himself at the far end like he's ready to intervene if things get out of hand.
The brothers look tired, their clothes rumpled, like they didn't sleep well in the guest rooms. Kevin is wearing the same clothes from yesterday, his shirt wrinkled and untucked.
Jack has dark circles under his eyes, his jaw tight with tension.
Devin looks like he wants to hit something—or lift some weights, his muscular frame coiled with barely contained energy.
Kaleb is the only one who looks relatively calm, though there's worry etched into the lines around his eyes.
They all look up when I enter, and the temperature in the room drops several degrees.
"About time," Kevin says, his voice sharp. "We've been waiting for you."
I move to the head of the table and pour myself a cup of coffee from the carafe that's been set out.
The staff has laid out a full breakfast spread.
Scrambled eggs, bacon, sausage, toast, fresh fruit, and pastries.
Enough to feed an army. I take my time adding cream to my coffee, letting the silence stretch.
"We need to talk," Jack says when I don't respond. His cop voice is out in full force, authoritative and demanding.
I take a sip of my coffee, savoring the bitter heat, then set the cup down and look at each of them in turn. "About?" I ask, although I already know the answer.
"For starters," Devin says, leaning forward with his elbows on the table, "why the hell are we being held here like prisoners? We have lives, jobs, and responsibilities. You can't just keep us locked up in your mansion because someone made a phone call."
"I can," I say simply. "And I will. Until the threat is neutralized."
"That's bullshit," Kevin snaps. "We can take care of ourselves. We don't need your protection."
"Really?" I raise an eyebrow. "Because from where I'm standing, someone threatened to kill one of you last night. They knew exactly how to get to Kiera through you. So forgive me if I don't trust your ability to protect yourselves."
Kevin's face flushes with anger, but before he can respond, Kaleb speaks up.
His voice is quieter than his brothers', but there's an edge to it that makes everyone listen.
"This isn't just about us, Emil. Mark and I are in the middle of an adoption process.
We have home visits scheduled, background checks, and interviews.
If we don't show up, if we can't be reached, it's going to raise red flags. We could lose our chance at this baby."
The pain in his voice is real, and I feel a flicker of sympathy. Family is everything. I understand that better than most. But I also understand that a dead brother won't be able to adopt anyone.
"I'll have my people contact the adoption agency," I say. "We'll explain that you're dealing with a family emergency. They'll understand."
"Will they?" Kaleb's eyes are hard. "Will they understand that my sister's fiancé is a Mafia boss who's keeping us under armed guard?"
"They'll understand what I tell them to understand," I say, my voice flat. "I have connections everywhere, Kaleb. Including in social services. Your adoption won't be affected."
"You can't just fix everything with money and threats," Jack says, his hands clenched into fists on the table. "That's not how the real world works."
"It's how my world works," I counter. "And like it or not, you're in my world now. All of you. The moment Kiera agreed to marry me, you became part of this family. And I protect my family."
"By locking us up?" Devin demands. "By treating us like we're helpless?"
"By keeping you alive," I say, my voice dropping to a dangerous level.
"Someone is trying to kill Kiera. They've shot at her twice now.
They've threatened you to get to her. This isn't a game.
This isn't something you can handle with a few self-defense classes and a security system.
This is serious, and it requires serious measures. "
The brothers exchange glances, and I can see the frustration and fear warring in their expressions. They want to argue and assert their independence, but they also know I'm right. They're out of their depth here, and they know it.
"So, what's your plan?" Kevin asks. "How long are you going to keep us here? Days? Weeks? Months?"
"As long as it takes," I say. "My men are working around the clock to find whoever is behind this. Once they're dealt with, you can go back to your lives."
"And what about work?" Jack asks. "I have cases. I can't just disappear."
"You're on leave," I say. "I've already arranged it with your captain. Family emergency. You'll be paid, and your position will be waiting for you when you return."
His eyes widen. "You did what?"
"I made a phone call," I say with a shrug. "Your captain was very understanding once I explained the situation."
"You had no right," Jack says, his voice shaking with anger. "You can't just interfere with my job, my life."
"I can, and I did," I say, meeting his gaze without flinching. "Because your life is in danger, and I'm not going to stand by and watch you get killed because you're too stubborn to accept help."
Before Jack can respond, the door to the dining room opens and Kiera walks in.
She's wearing a simple pair of jeans and a soft blue sweater, her red hair falling to just before her shoulders.
She looks pale, her skin almost translucent in the morning light, and there are dark circles under her eyes that makeup can't quite hide.
But she's on her feet, and she's moving under her own power, and that's what matters.
"Good morning," she says, her voice quiet as she takes a seat at the table between Kaleb and Devin. Her brothers immediately shift their attention to her, their anger at me momentarily forgotten in their concern for their sister.
"How are you feeling?" Kaleb asks, reaching over to squeeze her hand.
"I'm fine," she says, offering him a small smile. "The doctor gave me a clean bill of health. Just stress and not eating enough, apparently."
I watch her carefully, noting the way she avoids my gaze and how her hands tremble slightly as she reaches for the coffee pot. She's not fine. Not really. But she's putting on a brave face for her brothers, and I respect that.
She piles food onto her plate. Eggs, bacon, toast, and fruit. More than I've seen her eat in days. But when she picks up her fork, she just pushes the food around, moving it from one side of the plate to the other without actually taking a bite.
"You need to eat," I say, my voice gentler than it was with her brothers.
She looks up at me then, and there's something in her eyes that I can't quite read. Defiance? Fear? Resignation? "I know," she says. "I'm just not very hungry."
"Try anyway," I say. "You fainted last night because you haven't been taking care of yourself. That needs to change."
She holds my gaze for a moment longer, then looks down at her plate and takes a small bite of toast. It's a start.
The conversation around the table picks up again, her brothers asking her questions, making sure she's really okay. Luca sits quietly at the end of the table, observing everything with his usual calm efficiency. He catches my eye and gives a small nod. Everything is under control. For now.
But I can feel the tension in the room, the unspoken questions and fears that hang in the air like smoke.
Kiera's brothers want answers. They want to know who's behind the threats, who's trying to kill their sister, and what I'm doing to stop it.
And I have to tell them something they're not going to want to hear.
I wait until there's a lull in the conversation, until everyone has had a chance to eat and drink their coffee. Then I set down my cup and look at each of them in turn, making sure I have their full attention.
"There's something you need to know," I say, my voice cutting through the quiet chatter. "About the shooter and who's behind all of this."
Kevin straightens in his chair, his expression wary. "What about them?"
I take a breath, choosing my words carefully. This is going to complicate things, but they deserve to know the truth. "Whoever the shooter is," I say slowly, "he's not of my Mafia world. We need to look elsewhere."