The Sacrificial Pawn
Dante
Valentina didn’t waste time with pleasantries.
“They retaliated,” she said the moment I answered. I didn’t have to ask who “they” were. She wouldn’t mention the Colombian cartel by name on the phone.
I stood at the kitchen counter, one hand braced against the marble while Evelyn composed herself and went to sit down at the table. Her gaze was on me, her forehead furrowed, but her lips were still swollen from my cock. From what she’d almost done to me.
I forced myself to focus on the escalating situation. “How bad?”
“A warehouse in Red Hook was torched about thirty minutes ago. The fire department is there, but it looks like a pro job.” A warehouse in Red Hook meant the Bratva.
My mother’s tone remained cool and measured, though I knew her well enough to hear the satisfaction beneath it. “Three confirmed dead. One missing.”
Jesus Christ. “They hit back fast.”
“As expected.”
I dragged a hand over my jaw, already calculating in my head what this might mean. Territories would be redrawn. Retaliations planned. The body count would rise.
“What’s Malakov saying?”
“He’s furious.” A pause. “Apparently someone also took a shot at Alexei this evening leaving Brighton Beach.”
My stomach tightened. “Was he hit?”
“Who?” mouthed Evelyn, looking worried.
“No. The bullet shattered the rear passenger window. His driver got him out clean.”
I didn’t reply.
Valentina hesitated again. “The boy’s shaken up, though.”
That was understandable. Alexei had grown up around violence, but there was a difference between hearing stories about a turf war and having rounds zip past your skull on a New York street.
“This is going to get ugly,” I muttered.
“Just like we planned,” Valentina replied evenly.
My gaze shifted back to Evelyn.
She sat barefoot at my dining table, blouse askew, copper hair tumbling around her flushed face. Beautiful. Soft. Mine.
And suddenly all I could see was blood on that pale skin. A bullet tearing through her body because I’d allowed myself to become distracted. Weak.
The realization hit me like a knife in the chest.
Valentina continued speaking, discussing possible countermeasures, but part of me had already switched off. All I could think about was what a mess I’d made of everything. How, by giving in to my baser instincts, I’d risked the one thing I had come to care about.
Evelyn.
This had escalated faster than I’d anticipated. The Colombians weren’t merely posturing anymore. They were hitting back with destabilizing brutality, forcing Malakov into open retaliation. Which meant the violence was only beginning.
If our enemies realized what Evelyn had become to me…
I swallowed hard.
No.
I couldn’t afford this attachment. Neither could she.
“Dante?” Valentina prompted sharply.
“I’m here.”
“Did you hear me?”
“Yeah,” I lied. “I’ve got to go. Talk later.”
She gave an annoyed grunt and hung up.
I lowered my phone, ignoring the painful tightness in my chest. Evelyn was watching me cautiously, as if afraid to speak. Afraid of what she might hear.
A heavy silence settled over the suite. Rain streaked the windows while the city glittered coldly below us.
“Is everything alright?” she asked eventually.
“No, it’s not.” I hated myself for what I was about to do, but suddenly it had all become crystal clear.
That horrific vision of her lying on the concrete floor, blood tainting her porcelain skin, was going to become a reality if I didn’t cut her loose.
Or as loose as it was possible for me to cut her under the circumstances.
She frowned, blissfully unaware of the dark direction my thoughts had taken. “What happened?”
“The cartel retaliated. A Bratva warehouse burned tonight. Also, somebody tried to take out Alexei Malakov.”
Her face paled. “Oh my God. Is he alright?”
“He’s fine.” The coldness in my voice made her flinch, just like I knew it would.
Good, I thought savagely. Distance was necessary right now.
I thought I’d been protecting her by claiming her as mine, by bringing her here to my apartment, by installing armed guards. But all I’d done was advertise her.
Anyone paying attention would know what she meant to me. She was my fucking Achilles heel, my kryptonite, and if the cartel, or even Malakov, wanted to hurt me or my family, all they had to do was take one look at that fiery red hair and those gorgeous green eyes.
Jesus, I’d been such an idiot.
I might as well have stuck a big fat target on her back for the world to see.
She was staring at me, a confused look on her face. “Are you okay?”
I steeled my shoulders and took in a ragged breath. “Look, this is getting dangerous. I think we should move you to a safehouse.”
She stared at me. “Why?”
“It’s not safe for you here.”
With me.
“But… but you said you’d protect me. Isn’t that why I moved here?” The way she was looking at me, it tore my fucking heart out.
“I was wrong. It was a mistake. This—” I waved my hand between us— “was a mistake.”
She went very still.
“I don’t understand. Just now—” Her gaze shifted to the kitchen counter where I’d pleasured her only moments ago. It felt like an eternity now.
I gritted my teeth and forced out the words. “There’s nothing to understand. I can’t have you here right now, things are going to get ugly.”
“They’re already ugly.” She came over to me and laid her hand on my arm. “Dante, I thought we were in this together. Us against them.”
It was my turn to flinch. I pulled my arm away and took a step backward, putting some space between us.
She dropped her hand, surprised. I saw the hurt in her eyes and cursed under my breath.
I fucking hated doing this, but it was necessary.
There was no other way to keep her safe.
She’d become a liability, a weapon to be used against me.
“There is no us,” I said coldly. “There is only my family, and you. Once we get rid of the threat from the cartel and secure our network, that will be the end of it.”
“What about my gallery?” she whispered, her skin pale now. Her eyes were huge and haunted in her beautiful face. The vice crushing my chest tightened.
“Don’t worry, you’ll get your gallery back.” I was sure we could find somewhere else to launder our drug money. Galleries were popping up everywhere. We’d choose one in Chelsea, far away from the Agora. She’d suffer without the inflated prices we offered, but then she’d still have Malakov.
The thought of leaving her in his clutches terrified me.
Not my problem, I told myself firmly. I had to let her go.
It might take a while, but eventually I’d get her out of my system. I had to. For both our sakes.
“Dante—”
“Don’t you get it?” I snapped, turning on her. “You were just a pawn in all this. A means to an end.”
I saw the punch land. She gasped, her hand flying to her mouth.
But I wasn’t done. I needed to drive the nail in further.
“You’ve done your job. Valentina got what she wanted. The violence will self-propagate now that we’ve lit the fuse. We have no more need for you.”
“Have you gotten what you wanted?” she whispered.
I didn’t reply.
She glanced down at her wrist. “What about the watch? Was that nothing either?”
I hesitated, knowing what I said next would destroy any remaining shred of affection she still held for me.
“It’s got a tracker in it.”
Her mouth dropped open, and I saw shock, disbelief, and anger flash across her face.
“You were keeping tabs on me?” Her voice was a hoarse whisper.
I was trying to keep her safe. I thought if I knew where she was, I’d be able to get to her if anything happened. But I couldn’t tell her that. She wouldn’t see it the same way.
It was controlling, possessive behavior, and I was going to use it to destroy any hope of us rekindling whatever the hell this was between us.
“I was protecting my investment.”
“Your… investment?” Tears glistened in her eyes, and if I didn’t already loathe myself for crushing her, I did now.
“Yeah. Did you think my family was going to let you roam around freely when you know so much about our activities?” I scoffed, cursing how good a liar I was. “Don’t be fucking naive. You’re a liability, and you always will be.”
I watched as the light in those beautiful green eyes went out. She took off the watch and for a moment I thought she was going to hurl it at my face. She was well within her rights to do so, but that wasn’t Evelyn. She was way too classy for that.
Instead, she set it down on the coffee table.
“I’m going to pack my things now,” she said in a flat voice. “And don’t you dare try to stop me.”
“You can’t leave,” I told her, the hair on the back of my neck rising. “It’s too dangerous out there. I’ll move you to a safehouse. It’s probably best—”
“I don’t want to go to a safehouse,” she snapped, cutting me off. “I want to go home.”
She kept walking.
I picked up the watch and followed her down the hallway, absorbing her fury, her anguish. It fed my own. I needed her fire to burn alongside the flames of hate consuming me.
“You are not going home,” I told her firmly. It wasn’t safe here with me, but I sure as hell didn’t want her to go back to her apartment. The Colombians had already tried to get her there once. I was absolutely certain they’d try again.
There was that stubborn lift of the chin that I admired so much. That refusal to be defeated no matter what was thrown at her.
She pushed open the bedroom door and lifted her suitcase onto the bed. Flinging it open, she threw random items into it.
Damn, she was beautiful when she was mad.
Spinning around, she glared at me. “You lost the right to tell me where I should and shouldn’t stay when you told me I didn’t matter. That I’m just a pawn in your stupid game. God, I hate you and your stupid family.”
There it was. The truth.
Finally.
We’d been pretending for so long it had gotten to feel like it was real, but I’d always known it wasn’t. That it couldn’t last.
This had just accelerated the inevitable.
It was almost a relief.