The Russian’s Sold Bride (Lukov Bratva #4)

Chapter 1 - Wyatt

I’ve envisioned this drive a thousand times before. I’ve considered every turn, every move, and every outcome, down to the minute. I imagined the sirens in the distance, a gloomy Nevada backdrop, and pure anger pushing me forward, blinding me.

But tonight, the world around me is almost eerily calm. So am I.

The road ahead stretches on, but little by little, I close that final distance standing between me and Vito Caputo’s hideout.

Years of planning. Years of lingering in the dark while pretending to be dead. Years of living as someone entirely different.

With a deep exhale, I roll my shoulders and lean back against the leather seat. Anticipation burns under my skin, familiar in the way it flares up again. This moment is something I’ve been carrying in my chest since the day I disappeared, just waiting for the chance to seize it.

Vito won’t be expecting me…not while he thinks I’ve been rotting in the ground all this time.

Ever since he made those false claims about me, he has assumed his victory. He thinks Wyatt Michaels is dead and that I’ll never be a problem again.

But I didn’t die. I adopted a new name. I built something stronger.

The steering wheel creaks as I grip it tighter, and the farther I get, the more those memories start to scrape against the back of my mind.

I was twenty-five when I first started out. I kept it small at first, keeping it to modest legwork. But I was good at keeping my mouth shut and doing what I was told, so I jumped in the Balakin ranks fast, and with Lily in my care, I let myself be more ambitious than necessary.

Unfortunately, where there’s success, the vultures aren’t far away, and Vito was exactly that.

He’s a greedy prick through and through, and as an opportunist, he saw the perfect payday ahead of him.

He spun a couple of well-placed lies to the higher-ups, framing me for skimming a bit off the top each time I did a drug run.

Those whispers did exactly as intended, and in exchange, Vito got his money for letting it slip.

I wasn’t an idiot, and I sure as hell didn’t have a death wish. I didn’t steal a damn thing.

Yet, it was enough to cause suspicion and paranoia, and the target on my back was instantaneous.

If it had only been me in the equation, I might’ve fought through it and forced the truth out. I would’ve carved up Vito’s chest at the same time just to prove it. But Lily…my sweet sister, and far too smart for her own good…she was caught up in that orbit just from my associations.

The threat had been loud and clear. I was to be taken out, and any loose ends were to be tied up. She was a significant one.

So I did what had to be done.

I let the world think I was dead. All of them. The Balakins, Vito, and even Lily.

With rumours of escalating gang violence floating around Vegas, it put enough heat on both the Balakins and the Lukovs for them to back off, and Lily could carry on with her life as intended.

I ached and ached at the thought of leaving her alone.

After Mom and Dad died, I was all she had.

I was the one she depended on during the worst years of my life.

After losing everything I had right when I became her guardian, I had to turn to the streets just to make ends meet.

Even then, I failed her despite how quickly that success had flooded in, only to be ripped away again.

I went from stockbroker to straight-up broke, then from drug runner to a respected part of the Balakin empire, only to fall even harder.

I intended to disappear for good to start over somewhere else, but that plan crumbled the moment I caught wind of what the Lukovs had done. They took her. Swept her up and have held onto her ever since.

She was supposed to be free to live her life away from all of this bullshit, but they squandered any chance of that. She’s as close to the enemy as possible, and that thought has haunted me ever since.

As much as it hurt to turn away from her, I had no choice. I had to pivot and regroup, doing as much research and digging as physically possible.

I couldn’t save her by staying visible, so I became a ghost instead.

Building my own empire in the shadows hasn’t been easy, but I had skills and connections from before, and I used them to my advantage.

Every dollar I’ve earned since then has gone towards my mission. All the work I’ve put in day by day has led to a singular goal.

Find Lily and get her out.

But before I can, I have to end Vito, and for the first time in years, it’s finally within reach.

The music playing on the radio is nothing more than static to me now, but I don’t bother trying to focus on it. Not with the pounding of my pulse in my ears.

I’m not afraid of getting my hands dirty, and I never have been, yet there’s an odd kind of pressure that comes with the lead-up.

More prepared than I could ever hope to be, I’m not worried about the outcome. I’m just waiting to finally feel that satisfaction, and as much as I don’t salivate at the thought of killing, I’m damn well going to savour this one.

Pulling up to the hideout, it’s smaller than I expected for someone like Vito.

It’s just an old warehouse tucked behind other bigger, more impressive ones.

Some of the windows are cracked or entirely busted out, and the exterior steel panels are rusted from age.

It’s a shitty hole to die in, but he deserves nothing short of it.

With the car in park several paces away, I kill the engine and reach for the passenger seat before clutching the cold metal of the pistol I’ve had with me for quite some time.

In a way, it’s like an old friend that has stuck by me through the worst days, along with the highs. It's been just as patient as I have.

Once I walk into that place, there’s no turning back.

Vito is going to die, and I’m going to make sure he knows exactly who put him in the ground.

Stepping out, the cool night air surrounds me, not quite cutting through my jacket, concealing me and the gun. My boots don’t make a sound, hidden by the hum of the city outskirts.

Everything is still. Almost agonizingly quiet. But that’s about to change real fast.

I know Vito doesn’t like to linger in one place for too long, which is why I need to be quick and to the point.

He’s likely already preparing to leave by now with whatever prize he might have.

Knowing him, he probably has his hands in far too many dealings right now.

Trafficking, exploitation, covert arrangements… none of it is surprising from him.

But after tonight, all of that stops.

The side door hidden behind a small fleet of delivery vans that surely haven’t moved anything legitimate in ages is cracked open, leaving me with the perfect in. Idiot amateur.

I slip in silently, sticking to the shadows as that familiar hum of adrenaline floods through me. Finally. This is it.

Once I step into the main room, hand already on my pistol, I see him.

Vito.

Despite keeping an eye on him all this time, seeing him in person, rather than the grainy video feed, is almost strange. He looks older than I remember, heavier around the middle, with his hair starting to thin at his temples.

He stands there with his back to me, phone pressed to his ear.

“…I already told you…If Yuri wants her, he’ll have to pay double. I need to know within the next twenty minutes—”

I don’t wait.

Fast, silent, and efficient, I lift the pistol and cut the space, clutching at his collar before turning him around. The barrel presses against his forehead, right between the eyes.

“Miss me?”

Immediately, Vito’s skin pales as his expression falls. His cell clatters to the ground, shattering the screen on impact.

He stares at me for a long moment, letting that recognition and pure terror fill his eyes.

God…if only I could bottle that reaction.

“W-wyatt?” He croaks, more like he’s gazing into the face of a reaper as his mind tries to catch up. “How…you’re supposed to be dead…”

“Supposed to be…yes. But I’m clearly not,” I utter, shoving him back against the wall, causing him to stumble. “You believed it just like everyone else.”

Vito gapes at me, hands trembling as he holds them up in a poor attempt to placate. His breath thins as I shove the barrel harder against his skin.

Seeing the raw fear in his eyes, I already know he’s prepared to plead and beg.

As he should. His life is in my hands now, and I don’t plan on being gentle with it.

“I spent years planning your death. Years building something you and the others could never touch. Years making sure that cancers like you can’t ruin anything again.”

When I click the safety off, his eyes widen, and his tone shifts into a more panicked one.

“Wait—wait…Wyatt, please—”

A wave of satisfaction curls within me at that, and I almost laugh.

“You framed me,” I murmur, calm and low.

“You put a target on my back just so you could rub shoulders with the Balakins and take their money. You know damn well the damage you caused, and now you’re going to pay for every second of it.

As much as I’d like others to bear witness, I’ll let you suffer in silence just as I had to get here. ”

Vito’s throat bobs, as if forced to breathe with manual effort. After a flicker, a deeper sense of recognition moves through his eyes.

“You’re The Vegas Ghost, aren’t you?”

I allow my lips to pull into the faintest smile, but it lacks any warmth. “The one and only. But most know me by Vic now. Took a while to grow on me.”

Vic Dubrov is the name I’ve built for myself, but thanks to my reclusive way of working, the local groups settled on that moniker.

I can’t say it’s my favourite, but at least it means I have enough relevance to be a threat.

Regardless of my recent success, nobody knows who I really am. It’s better if it stays that way.

But for tonight, I’ll allow the mask to come off. It’s not like Vito will be breathing soon enough anyway.

And now he seems to realise just how fucked he really is.

That familiar, opportunistic look flashes across his eyes, tangling with desperation. “Look, we can talk. We can come to an agreement. We can—there’s something I can give you. A…prize for your cunning, if you will.”

My eyes narrow at him.

A prize? A goddamn prize.

Rage easily boils beneath my skin, and I press the pistol harder against his head. “You think I’m here for negotiations?”

Vito’s breath comes fast now, chest heaving. “No, no…but you should hear me out, at the very least. Please, just listen—”

Gritting my teeth, I crowd his space. “What could you possibly offer that would stop me?”

Wordlessly, he glances to his left, settling on something across the room.

And then I see her.

I had been so focused on Vito that I didn’t even notice the young woman tied roughly to a folding chair in the corner, wrists bound behind her back.

There’s a gag in her mouth, and her long, dark brown hair spills over her shoulder in messy waves.

Her eyes are wide, frantic, and if I’m not mistaken, furious.

Her skin has a chilled hue to it from beneath the silver dress clinging to her body, almost like she had been out somewhere before finding herself here.

My heart stutters, completely unbidden.

I want to blame it on her beauty, or the fact that she’s trembling, but that’s not just it.

There’s something in the shape of her face. The soft, youthful roundness of her cheeks, the tilt of her chin, and the gleam of defiance in her eyes…it all reminds me of Lily. Just enough to force the breath from my lungs.

“Who the hell is she?” I demand, glancing back at him.

Vito senses my hesitation like a shark scenting blood. “She’s a deal in the making, and worth more than you know. The Grimaldis want her, but the Balakins have had their eyes on her, too. Depends on who will pay more.”

I narrow my eyes at him. “You were going to sell her.”

“I was,” he utters, eyes lowered, not from guilt, but the fact that he has been intercepted by me. “The Grimaldis will be here any time to collect, but if you take her and get out of here before they arrive, then maybe we’ll both live through tonight.”

For a long moment, I stare at him, stuck in both disbelief and rage. Then I look at her.

The girl’s chest rises and falls in quick breaths, quietly fighting the ropes, along with the situation she has found herself in. Despite the undignified way she’s tied up, she holds her chin up, and it twists something in me.

In the back of my mind, I find myself in another room, in what feels like another lifetime. I see Lily bound to that chair by men I never wanted to go after her.

I never meant to fail her, but I did.

And this young woman is a cold reminder of that.

Shifting my grip on the pistol, I try to school my expression, but I know Vito sees it. He sees the crack in my resolve before I can shake it.

Undeserved relief washes over his features, far too smug.

“That’s right…you take her,” he says, nodding desperately as if it’s the best idea for both of us. “You can disappear again, and she’ll fetch you a fortune…or whatever you want. Just let me go. You have everything you need, right?”

Staring him down, I want to pull the trigger so badly that my finger twitches. I want to watch him fall, to watch the blood drain from his body until I know there’s no coming back for him. I want to submerge myself in his fear and revel in my victory.

But as I look at the woman again, I know she can’t be much older than Lily when I lost her.

And the thought of leaving her here as something to be traded like currency by men who couldn’t give less of a damn about her sours in my gut.

No. I can’t let that happen. Not when it would just mean another payday for Vito, regardless of who ends up giving him the higher sum.

I lower the gun a fraction, just enough to make him exhale.

“She’s mine.”

Vito nods quickly, holding onto the moment like it’s his saving grace. “Good, good. Take her and go. Go before they—”

“Don’t get any of this twisted,” I growl out, butting the gun up against him again in warning. “I might be sparing you tonight, but only for her sake. The next time I see you, this bullet will be right here. This isn’t over.”

Vito flinches as I tap the cold metal against his skin again, but I pull away, not sparing him another glance.

He thinks he survived and that this woman has given him his life back. Maybe that’s true, but it won’t be for long.

When I look at her, catching the blue in her eyes, I’m well aware of the thing moving in my chest. Something unwelcome, yet familiar.

A kind of protectiveness I haven’t felt since Lily.