42. Russ
RUSS
Nick spreads the photograph across the kitchen table like he's laying out evidence at a crime scene. The glossy surface catches the overhead light, making the image almost too clear. Marla and Sharon, frozen mid-laugh outside the Ivory Wolf, completely unaware they're being watched.
There's nothing written on it. No threats, no demands, no cryptic messages.
That's what makes it so disturbing. It's not about what's written.
It's about what isn't. Someone took the time to follow Marla, photograph her, develop the image professionally, and leave it for us to find alongside Sharon.
It's deliberate. It's personal. And it's been going on for weeks, since Marla first went there and met me.
"Fuck," I mutter, staring at the photo. My hands curl into fists on the table.
Marla stands near the doorway with Sharon pressed against her side.
Both women look pale and shaken. Sharon's hands are trembling slightly despite the blanket my mother wrapped around her shoulders earlier.
Marla's jaw is tight, her blue eyes fixed on the photograph like she's trying to will it out of existence.
Alex leans against the counter with his arms crossed, his expression dark and calculating. Nick stands beside the table, his green eyes cold as he studies the photo like it might reveal something we haven't already figured out.
My mother moves through the kitchen as if nothing is wrong, pulling ingredients from the refrigerator and cabinets.
She's been here less than a day and already acts like she owns the place.
But that's how she is. She needs to be busy when she's nervous, and her favorite thing to do is take care of others.
"Everyone sit," she says firmly, not looking up from the cutting board where she's chopping vegetables.
Nobody moves.
"I said sit." Her tone sharpens, and suddenly we're all moving toward the table like we're kids being scolded. Even Alex pulls out a chair without argument, which almost makes me laugh. If things weren't so serious, I would laugh and tell him what a coward he is.
My mother has this way of taking command without raising her voice or making threats. It's infuriating. She just expects compliance, and somehow she gets it. Even from three pakhans who don't take orders from anyone else.
"You're all going to eat," she continues, setting a large pot on the stove. The scent of onions and garlic fills the kitchen as she works. "You've been running around like headless chickens, and nobody's had a proper meal. Sit. Eat. Then you can go back to your plotting and planning."
She doesn't look at any of us directly, but I can tell she's watching everything. The way Sharon trembles. The protective way Marla keeps close to her friend. How Alex and Nick position themselves near exits and windows even while sitting. My mother misses nothing, never has.
"Ma," I start, but she cuts me off with a look.
"Don't 'Ma' me, Rustik. Sit down."
I sit.
The kitchen fills with the sounds of cooking: the sizzle of meat hitting the pan, the rhythmic chop of her knife against the cutting board, and water boiling on the stove.
She moves between tasks seamlessly, and I realize she's creating normalcy in the middle of chaos.
It's what she's always done. What she did after my father died, when everything fell apart and I had to step up as pakhan years before I was ready.
Sharon refuses to leave Marla's side all afternoon.
She follows her from room to room like a shadow, never more than a few feet away.
When Marla sits on the couch, Sharon sits beside her.
When Marla moves to the window, Sharon follows.
It's like she's afraid if she lets Marla out of her sight, something terrible will happen.
I can't blame her. She was just kidnapped, locked in a warehouse, and used as a pawn in someone's fucked-up game. Of course she's terrified.
Marla handles it with more patience than I expected. She doesn't complain or try to get space. She just lets Sharon stay close, occasionally reaching over to squeeze her hand or murmur something reassuring.
Nick's in the other room taking a call from his brother Mark, keeping his voice low and controlled. I can hear bits and pieces through the open doorway.
"No, you don't need to worry about it," Nick says. "Just stay at the penthouse for a few more days. I'll let you know when it's safe to go back to your place."
Mark says something I can't make out.
"It's business," Nick replies, his tone final. "Family stays separate from business. You know that."
He ends the call and returns to the kitchen, his expression unreadable.
He catches my eye and jerks his head toward the hallway.
Alex notices and follows without a word.
The three of us gather in the small office at the back of the mother-in-law building.
It's the first time we've had a serious meeting that isn't entirely about Marla or Sharon, and the shift is somewhat welcoming, if that makes any damn sense.
"We need to talk about the merger," Nick says, closing the door behind us.
Alex nods. "Agreed. This situation is escalating faster than we anticipated."
I lean against the desk, crossing my arms. "Someone's testing us. They're looking for fractures between our organizations."
"And they're finding them," Alex adds grimly. "The warehouse attack exposed security weaknesses. Sharon's kidnapping proved they can reach our informants. The photo shows they've been watching Marla since before any of this started."
Nick's jaw tightens. "The mayor's involvement complicates things. He's been on the payroll for years, but if his son is actively working against us, that changes the dynamic. We can't touch Zach without political blowback."
"Not yet," I say. "But we can make it clear that coming after what's ours has consequences."
"Which brings us back to the merger," Alex says. "We're more vulnerable separately. Together, we're a unified front. Whoever's orchestrating this is counting on us staying divided."
I push off the desk and start pacing. The room feels too small suddenly, the walls closing in. "So we accelerate the timeline and call a formal captain meeting tomorrow. Make it official."
Nick's eyes narrow thoughtfully. "That's a significant move. Once we announce the consolidation to the captains, there's no walking it back. We're committing publicly."
"Exactly," Alex says. "Which is why it works. It shows strength, not weakness. It tells whoever's behind this that their strategy failed. Instead of dividing us, they pushed us together faster."
"The captains will have concerns," I point out. "Territory redistribution, command structure, profit sharing. We've been negotiating those details for months."
"Then we finalize the details tonight," Nick says flatly. "We present them with a completed plan, not a proposal. No room for debate or hesitation."
Alex nods slowly. "Agreed. A unified command structure sends a clear message to every organization in the city. We're not three separate families anymore. We're one."
"Agreed," I say.
"Agreed," Nick echoes.
The decision settles over us like a weight. This isn't just business anymore. This is preparation for war. Someone declared it the moment they hit Nick's warehouse and took Sharon. Now we're responding in kind.
"We tell the captains everything," I continue. "They need to understand what we're up against."
"And Marla?" Alex asks quietly.
The question hangs in the air. We all know what he's really asking. What do we tell our men about the woman living in my mother-in-law building? The woman all three of us are sleeping with? The woman who's somehow become the center of this entire fucked-up situation?
"We tell them she's under our protection," Nick says finally. "That's all they need to know."
"They're going to ask questions," I point out.
"Let them ask." Nick's voice is cold and final. "Anyone who has a problem with it can take it up with me personally."
The meeting breaks up shortly after. Alex heads back to the main house to coordinate security rotations. Nick makes calls to his captains, setting up tomorrow's meeting. I stay in the office, staring at the maps and documents spread across the desk without really seeing them.
Hours pass. The house grows quiet as everyone settles in for the night. My mother retires to one of the bedrooms. Sharon and Marla are in the master bedroom together, neither wanting to be alone. Alex and Nick are somewhere in the main house, probably still working.
I step outside into the cold night air. The temperature has dropped significantly since sunset, cold enough that my breath comes out in thick clouds.
The property is dark except for the security lights positioned around the perimeter and the soft glow coming from Marla's bedroom window in the mother-in-law building.
Somewhere in the distance, an owl calls out, the sound carrying across the frozen ground.
This whole situation is fucked. A month ago, I was focused on business, the merger negotiations, and maintaining my organization's territory and reputation. Then Marla walked into the Ivory Wolf looking for a one-night stand, and everything went sideways.
I should regret it. I should wish I'd never approached her that first night, or followed her back to her cottage. It would be easier that way. Cleaner.
But I don't regret it. Not even a little.
The truth I've been avoiding for weeks settles over me like the cold night air, impossible to ignore anymore.
My feelings for Marla aren't just physical. They haven't been for a while now, if I'm being honest with myself. Somewhere between that first night and now, between the laughter and the fear and the quiet moments tangled together in bed, something shifted.
The way she laughed that night we danced to Russian music in her cottage with genuine, unguarded laughter that made her whole face light up.
The way she looks at me sometimes, like she sees past the violence and the danger to something worth caring about.
How she held Sharon when her friend was terrified, offering comfort despite her own fear.
The vulnerability in her eyes when she admitted she'd never felt safe before.
Those moments changed something fundamental inside me.
I'm in love with her.
The realization should terrify me. But standing here in the darkness, watching the light from her window, I can't bring myself to care about any of that. The fear is there, sharp and real, but it's drowned out by something stronger.
I'm in love with Marla Paddington. I'm almost certain Nick and Alex are too.