Kiss Of Death: A Dark Mafia Romance

Una

I’m in bed, cuddling George when my phone buzzes, dancing across the bedside table. I glance at the screen and see a Russian number. I assume it’s Sasha. Swiping the screen, I press it to my ear. “Hello.”

“Little dove.” My stomach drops at the sound of Nicholai’s voice and I sit bolt upright, my eyes instantly surveying every inch of the room. Each and every instinct I have goes on high alert because if Nicholai can get the number to an untracked burner phone, then surely, he can get to me.

“Nicholai.”

“Did you get my card, and present?” he asks, almost joyfully.

“I did.” Nicholai does things a certain way. You have to play his game and wait for him to tell you what he actually wants.

“And I asked you to come home, little dove.”

“I can’t do that.” I get up and glance out the window, but of course, even Nicholai can’t scale a skyscraper.

“You wound me. But no matter. I told you I would come for you, though, I have had to go to great lengths. I’m not happy with you.”

My whole body goes tense as his words sink in. “What lengths?” Silence. “What lengths?” I repeat, my voice rising. I turn around and Nero is standing in the doorway, dark eyes glinting like onyx in the dim light from the city below.

“Una?” A small voice comes over the line. My knees go weak and I squeeze my eyes shut as I brace my back against the window.

“Anna,” I whisper, slowly sliding down the glass until I hit the floor. “Are you okay?” I’m aware of Nero moving closer but I keep my gaze fixed on the dark patch of carpet in front of me.

“I think so. What’s going on?”

“Just stay calm. Do what they say. I’m coming for you.”

There’s a rustling sound before I hear Nicholai’s voice again. “She looks so much like you, little dove. But you were always so strong, Una. You are the perfect soldier, to be surpassed only by your child.” The way he says it like a kid getting excited about a new toy makes me feel sick. “But Anna…Anna is not strong like you, little dove. She will not make a soldier…” He lets that hang in the air between us.

“I promise you, if you touch her, I will tear your heart from your chest,” I snarl, the emotions bubbling and swirling uncontrollably inside me.

“Tsk-tsk, I raised you better than that. You have been away too long. It has tainted you. I thought I taught you well enough that love is weakness. Your sister, the Italian, your child…they weaken you, Una. You have become fragile,” he spits, anger consuming his voice. There’s a pause before he speaks again. “But it is fine. It is fine. I can fix you. Don’t worry, little dove. I will make you perfect again. And I will make your child stronger than even you.” I squeeze my eyes shut and press my clenched fist to my forehead. “You will come home, and I will set Anna free. You have forty-eight hours, and then I kill her. Tick-tock.” The line goes dead and I launch the phone across the room, leaving a dent in the drywall.

I press my palms against my eyes to try and keep from crying, but it’s pointless. I’m fucking scared. I’m scared for Anna, I’m scared for my baby and I’m scared for myself because I know exactly what awaits me when I go back there. He will ‘reset’ me. Months of electric shock therapy, training, waterboarding and reflex conditioning. There is only one way to survive that, and that is to check out, to become numb. No one makes it out of there with a shred of humanity left intact. The mind cannot endure it, and that’s why he does it. He doesn’t want humans. He wants soldiers, robots, killers without a conscience.

Fingers brush over my jaw, and I drop my hands, meeting Nero’s hard gaze. Will I remember him? When Nicholai wipes all traces of emotion from me, will I remember this feeling? Will I even know that I loved him, or will he simply seem like a distant weakness, nothing more than the shadow of a memory? And my child…will I love it? I’m not sure even mother nature can override Nicholai’s methods.

He swipes at the tears below my eyes. “You are not going,” he says, a growl in his voice.

“He has Anna.”

“I know.”

“What?” I climb to my feet and move away from him, shaking my head. “Why wouldn’t you tell me?”

“Because I didn’t know for sure that he had her.”

“Fuck!” I drag both hands through my hair. “How did this happen, Nero? You told me she was protected!” I can’t help but feel a small sting of betrayal because I trusted him. I believed foolishly that Nero’s word, his power, was infinite. And I underestimated Nicholai’s reach despite everything I know about him, and that is the bottom line—I should have known. I let my wistful hope cloud my judgement and it has just cost me dearly. I will not let Anna pay the price for my actions. He wants me, not her. She’s nothing more than bait. A helpless soul caught in the middle of Nicholai’s twisted obsession with me.

“He’ll kill her.” I imagine all the horrible things he’ll do to her, the ways he’ll make her suffer, just because I defied him. “I have to go to him.”

“No.” His voice is deceptively calm. I turn to face him, but he catches me off guard by wrapping his arms around me from behind. One arm goes across my chest, pinning my wrists flush to my body while the other tightens around my waist. “Don’t struggle,” he whispers roughly in my ear. My heartbeat hammers against my eardrums and my breath hitches.

I fight his hold, but his arms are like steel. “Nero…”

“I won’t let you do it, Morte.” His breath touches my neck. His hard body is unrelenting. “You don’t get a say when it comes to the safety of our baby.”

I take a deep breath and compose myself. “You don’t understand. He’ll kill her and then he’ll just keep coming. He will. Never. Stop.”

“Una…”

“You said we were equals.”

He hesitates, and a low groan slips past his lips. “This is different. Your head isn’t clear when it comes to Anna.”

“Do you trust me?” I twist my head towards him and his cheek presses to mine. Ragged breaths slip from his lips and I can almost feel his desperation like a living breathing demon in the room. He’s scared. Nero is scared.

“Morte…”

“Do you trust me?” I repeat.

“Yes.”

“We have to control it.”

“What?”

I struggle to get free and he reluctantly releases me, though he looks ready to pounce again at any moment.

“Nicholai thinks he has the upper hand, and we have to let him think that, lull him into a false sense of security…” His dark eyes lock with mine. I see that urge in him, the need to lock me up and throw away the key. I have to make him see. “I know where he’ll take me. You can come for me.”

“You’re not fucking going!”

“I have to!” He takes an ominous step forward, and I shuffle back. “If I go, he’ll think he’s won. I can…I can get close to him, take him out from the inside,” I say in a rush. “It’s the only way.”

“No,” he growls.

“Just hear me out. And try to be objective.”

“I can’t be objective when it comes to you.”

“And that is why Nicholai will win, because he does not love, he does not feel. He has no weakness.”

He cups my cheek, forcing me to look at him. “Love is not a weakness, Morte. It is strength.” I wish I could believe him, but with so many people I love on the line, I don’t feel very strong.

“I am his only weakness,” I say slowly. “I’m the only one who can do this, Nero.”

His jaw tenses and he sighs heavily before getting to his feet and walking away from me. “No, I have another plan. Get dressed. We’re expecting visitors.” And then he’s heading out of the room, dismissing me completely.

I sit on the couch in Nero’s office while he makes several calls. I’m staring at a laptop screen, but I can feel his eyes on me. My leg bounces erratically. The walls of the room feel as if they’re pressing in on me. All I can see in my mind is that broken image of Anna before Nero found her and bought her. I see the thin and broken girl being raped on a web cam for the sick entertainment of depraved men. Would Nicholai do that to her? Will she survive that again?

Eventually I can’t take Nero’s burning stare anymore. I decide to leave and go in search of some coffee. I’m standing at the breakfast bar, trying to calm myself, when the ding of the elevator reaches me. The second I hear the distinctive lilt of Spanish accents, I’m storming through the apartment. I recognize Rafael D’Cruze from all the years that Nicholai would make us learn every influential leader, capo, boss or even dirty politician.

Four men are with him, and they’re all talking quickly to Nero and Gio. I storm in their direction and, at the last minute, they glance my way.

“Ah, shit,” Gio mumbles, just as I swing for Rafael, slamming my fist into his jaw.

One of his men moves, and I yank a gun from the back of my jeans and point it at his head. “I will shoot your worthless, sack of shit ass where you stand.”

Rafael rubs his jaw and raises his brows, glancing at Nero. “She always like this?” Nero shrugs one shoulder before shifting to stand beside me.

“They’re here to help,” Nero attempts to assure me. I’m not assured.

I glare at Rafael, meanwhile the guy in front of my gun shifts slightly. “Loco puta,” he mumbles. I pistol-whip him across the bridge of his nose and he staggers back, clutching his now broken nose. Nero clears his throat to cover a laugh.

“You lost my sister.”

Rafael sighs and swipes a hand over his face. “Do not think that I take this lightly. The Russians killed three of my men and shot another.” There’s an edge to him, something dangerous, and usually I’d take note of it, but today, I’d sooner just kill him.

“I don’t give a fuck about your men! She was supposed to be safe with you.” Nero promised me she was safe and I hate that he did because now I can’t take his word.

“She was heavily guarded and in one of my houses that only my closest men know about.”

“Well then, it looks like one of your closest men is a rat, Rafael.” I glare at the men beside him. I never should have left her with other people. I may put her in danger, but I’m careful, Nero is careful. He keeps only his most loyal people close. None of Nero’s men would have sold her out, but outsiders can easily be bought, and Nicholai has a lot to offer as payment.

“They shot my brother,” one of the guys behind him says as though I give a shit.

“I. Don’t. Care. If I were you, my only concern would be the fact that my sister is gone.” I glance at the guy who spoke. “Do you know who I am?" He glares back at me. I step around Rafael and stand toe to toe with the man. “If I don’t get her back, I’m going to come to Mexico and end your entire fucking cartel.”

“O-kay…” Nero wraps an arm around my waist and pulls me back against his chest. “They came to help.” I shrug away from him and pace the length of the room. I feel like I’m hanging by a thread, my emotions swinging like a pendulum and this close to snapping, but I won’t do it in front of these men. Leaving the foyer, I go into the darkened living room and move to the window. My mind is this foggy swarm of emotions and nothing is clear.

They must have a rat. But what if they don’t? What if Nicholai paid Rafael for Anna and this is all just a set up? Pressing my hand to my stomach, I squeeze my eyes shut. A floorboard creaks behind me. I know it’s Nero without looking. Lips skim over my shoulder and I lean into him. The touch that once left me so conflicted now feels like the only real thing in my life. And, in the midst of complete chaos, he’s the only one I can rely on.

“We need help, Morte.” His arm snakes up the front of my body before his fingers loosely wrap around my throat.

I trace the length of his forearm and grip his wrist, twisting my head to the side. “What if they’re working with him? We can’t trust them.”

His lips press against my temple. “No. You don’t have to trust them, you have me.” I turn in his arms. Dark eyes, hard and determined, locked with mine. “Let me handle it.” Warm breath skitters over my lips, the subtle scent of mint and cigarette smoke swirling around me. “Promise me you won’t do anything stupid. Tell me we’re together on this.” He sounds so oddly vulnerable and it breaks my heart a little. It’s a promise I know I can’t keep, but I make it anyway.

“Always,” I whisper. He grips my face and kisses me hard, lips moving over mine as though he’s trying to stain my very soul. Little does he know, he irrevocably imprinted himself on me a long time ago. Whatever plan Nero is trying to come up with, he’s grasping at straws, I know it. He knows it. Otherwise he wouldn’t be trying so desperately to bring me to get me in line. Nicholai has us backed into a corner. Checkmate. The game is over, but Nero refuses to accept it, because of what he stands to lose.

And isn’t this the way this was always destined to go? Everything has come full circle and I’m right back where I started with him; me and Anna. Nero and I could no sooner run from this than we could fate itself because we orchestrated it. Every move we’ve played has brought us here. We fight, we kill, it’s inherently twisted into every fiber of our DNA, and this is the price we pay. Normality is a distant wish, a dream that we can’t quite grasp. I want to grasp it though, more than I’ve ever wanted anything in my life, but I won’t sacrifice people along the way. I won’t sacrifice Anna today only for Nicholai to play another hand and catch me tomorrow. No, this has to end. I’ll let Nero plot and plan. I’ll go along with it for his sake, but I have my own plan.

“Come. We have to talk to them,” he says, taking my hand and leading me towards his office.

Gio sits beside Rafael on one of the couches and once again, the blueprints are on the coffee table. Truthfully, I’m not sure Nicholai will even have Anna there. That’s his main base, but he has others, and of course, I know the layout of that base intimately. Logically, he would take her elsewhere, but then he told me to come to him. That is where I’d go, so maybe she is there.

Nero moves to the corner of the room and pours out a glass of whiskey. He looks more worn than usual, with shadows lingering below his eyes. He swallows the whiskey in two gulps and turns his attention to the plans. I take a seat next to him, and his hand lands on my thigh possessively. They discuss everything, but I barely hear them. They’re flogging a dead horse. Anna isn’t getting out of that base unless he willingly lets her walk out the gate. And the only way he’s doing that is if I walk in.

Rafael gets up, swearing in Spanish as he stalks to the side of the room and slams his hand against the wall. Nero leans into my side, whispering in my ear. “I think Rafael is in love with your sister.” Rafael and my sister. I clench my fists and one hand instinctively reaches for the blade strapped to my thigh, my fingers brushing over it. Another reason for me to hurt him, taking advantage of my abused and broken sister. Nero chuckles, covering the blade with his own hand. “Such a vicious butterfly.”

I push to my feet. Everyone tenses, expecting me to do something, but instead I simply brush past Rafael, glaring as I leave the room. I check my watch. I have forty-five hours and nine minutes before I have to be in Russia. I go straight to the armory and open the door to the panic room that also houses all the weaponry. Checking the cameras, I see that Nero and the Mexicans are all still in the office. I grab a .40 Cal and a spare clip and shove both in the back of my jeans with my 9mm. Next, I open all the drawers, glancing over the various bullets until I see what I’m looking for. There are two tiny silver canisters tipped with needles. I take them, shove them in the pocket of my hoody, and leave the room. As I step out of the dining room, I bump into Tommy. He startles and clutches at his chest.

“Jesus, do you have to creep around in the dark?”

“It’s just me,” I snort.

He glares. “You do realize that makes it worse?”

“You are such a pussy.”

“No, I just have a self-preservation. You haven’t killed me yet, so…”

“I haven’t killed you because I like you.”

He smiles wide. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

Tommy has this innocence about him, a side that’s managed to remain untainted by the darkness that surrounds him. I tease him, but I hope he never loses it. I hope he always see’s the light in the dark, no matter the circumstance. “Never change, Tommy.”

He frowns. “Are you okay?”

I nod and walk away from him, unable to dwell on the people here; on the life I have or could have had. Instead I go to bed, sliding one of the metal canisters beneath my pillow. I’m ready, organized. I have everything I need to do what must be done, and so, I lie here, my stomach churning horribly. By the time Nero finally comes to bed, my emotions are completely fraught and burnt out.

He slips beneath the covers, and glides his hand around my waist. “Morte,” he whispers.

“Yeah.”

“Are you okay?”

Not even a little bit. “Yeah.”

“I have to ask because Rafael is still alive.” I can hear the amusement in his voice.

“As soon as this is done, he’s fair game.” He not only loses my sister, but he made a play for her.

His lips brush my neck. “I’ll even hold him down for you.”

“I thought he was your friend.”

“I don’t have friends, morte. I have pawns, and when they fail me, they lose favor.” God, I love how utterly heartless he is. I turn over and thread my fingers through his hair, pulling him to me. I press me lips to his, needing to feel him, craving his strength and brutality and everything that makes him so inherently feared by all who hear his name. I want my monster. His tongue brushes against mine and I moan into his mouth, raking my nails over his neck.

I get to my knees and straddle his body, our lips never breaking apart. He sits up and wraps his arms around me so tight that it feels as though he’d never let me go. His lips drift to my neck, warm and hard, demanding yet giving. I scratch my fingers through his hair and cling to him, wishing that I could pause time and remain here, safe in his arms. I’ve always been alone, always fiercely independent, but having him has made me realize what it is to have someone. To be protected. And once you’ve known that…I have a feeling to be without it is its own form of cruel torture. His hand slides between my legs and a breath hisses between his teeth when he realizes I’m not wearing any underwear beneath his oversized t-shirt. Fingers press against me and he groans against my throat on an open-mouthed kiss.

“So fucking wet, Morte.”

I wrap my arms tightly around his neck and close my eyes when he pushes inside me. Every time with him is a shameless claiming, complete possession laced with something so raw and real that I almost feel as though I can’t breathe without it. Nero always feels like the very essence of life, right on the ragged edge at all times. He shifts beneath me and then his fingers are replaced by his cock pushing against me. Hands grip my hips, guiding me down over him slowly. It’s so intense. So all consuming. What was once a bloody battle now feels like the sweetest surrender, the melding of two war-torn souls embracing each other’s scars. My hips roll over him and his breath stutters, arms pinning my body to his. Pleasure fires through me and I throw my head back on a low moan. Our lips meet and the frantic kisses slow, growing deep and drugging. This tension hangs in the air between us—all the words neither of us can say—and I wonder if he knows? Both his hands cup my face and he tilts my head back, sliding his tongue across mine, push and pull. Back and forth. I think of leaving him and my chest tightens because it’s the last thing I want. But this isn’t our reality? This right here is a dream, a life we have no right to. I see that now, and as hard as it is to let go of dreams, at some point, we must wake up. He pushes up against me, staking his claim on me, marking me in every way.

I try to erect the steel walls that I need to protect myself, but my heart remains painfully exposed. His movements become slow and teasing. He’s so deep, he’s practically a part of me. A slow wave of pleasure builds and then crashes over me, rolling on and on. I press my lips to his, squeezing my eyes shut as a tear tracks down my cheek. He stiffens beneath me, his movements becoming jilted and brutal as he groans my name over and over.

“I fucking love you.” He touches his forehead to mine and I inhale the scent of him: cigarettes and whiskey tinged with mint.

“I love you,” I whisper, pushing him back on the bed. Our eyes meet and he strokes the curtain of hair away from my face. I see his feelings reflected right back at me, the kind of obsession that consumes absolutely. Ours is a love that burns so hot and bright that it destroys everything in its path. Separate, we are strong, but together we are unstoppable. And I’m about to separate us. I hate it, but I do what must be done. I must believe that what we have will transcend time and distance. I’ll need him, even if it’s just the simple thought of him.

Closing my eyes, my hand slides beneath the pillow. I almost hope he stops me because I don’t want to do this. It breaks my heart to betray him. I kiss him gently, allowing my lips to linger over his. My fingers wrap around the small canister and I think of Anna. In a lightening quick move, I jab the dart into the side of his neck. He stills and I pull back, meeting his shocked expression. “I’m sorry.” My voice breaks as the tears now pour freely down my face.

“Una, no,” he rasps. His hand wraps around my throat, and I do nothing to fight him off as he squeezes hard.

Instead of pulling away from him, I push closer, kissing him. My tears spill onto his lips. “I love you, Nero. Trust me.” His eyes start to droop, and his hold loosens. “One day, I will return to you.” His eyes roll back in his head, and I kiss him one last time before I slide away from. I throw on a pair of black jeans and a hoody before I grab the bag I left under the bed. I spare Nero one last glance, and then, for the second time, I leave with his scent still clinging to my skin and the taste of him on my lips. Only, this time, it feels like I just ripped out my own beating heart. This time there is so much more at stake.

I move through the apartment, careful not to make any noise. I can’t let Nero’s men dart and catch me again. Nero will literally chain me in a basement somewhere and never let me out. I slink through the living room and pause when I hear a loud click. Freezing, I slowly shift my gaze to the couch. The bright red end of a cigarette glows in the darkness and I can just make out Rafael’s features. I reach for the gun at the back of my jeans, wrapping my fingers around it slowly. If he tries to stop me…

“You are going to him.” His voice is low and deep.

“Do not try and stop me. I do what I must.”

He leans forward, allowing the cigarette to hang loosely from his fingers as he props his elbows on his thighs. “You will sacrifice yourself for her?”

“Yes.”

“And your child? You will sacrifice your child for her?”

I clench my teeth, fighting down the spike of anger. “I thought you…felt something for her.”

He sighs and pushes to his feet, moving toward me. He’s a massive guy and the predator in me takes him in warily. “Yes, but Anna would never wish you to sacrifice an innocent child, Angel.”

“I have a plan.”

He takes another slow drag of his cigarette. “Ah, you and Nero and your plans.”

“This one doesn’t involve Nero.”

“How do you know the Russian will release Anna?”

I pinch the bridge of my nose. “I don’t.” I feel like I’m free-falling, trapped in a hopeless situation. But Nero always says life is just a giant chess game. All I have to do is position key players. “I need you to do me a favor,” I say. He nods. “If he doesn’t release Anna, bargain for her return. Once he has me, he doesn’t need her. Let him put her to good use elsewhere.”

“Bargain what?”

“You have access to a port…”

“Yes.”

“Offer him the use of it. Getting arms over the southern border is the easiest access point into America, but the cartels won’t allow the Russians any foothold.”

His brows lower over coal black eyes that glint in the darkness of the apartment. “That would cause problems.”

My gaze darts towards the top of the stairs. I don’t know how long that tranquilizer will work for. I’m guessing he went on the lighter side of the dosage for my body weight. Nero weighs more than twice what I do. “Look, it won’t be for long. Anyway, Nicholai is not one to break his word. I think he’ll let her go.”

“You are his favored pet, Angel. And you have proven unruly. He has the means to control you, do not think that he will give that up easily.” I nod. “Go. I did not see you.”

“Thank you.”

“And Una…”

“Yes?”

His eyes drop to my stomach, a pained expression crossing his face. “Be safe.”

I turn away from him and head for the elevator, palming both my guns as I descend into the parking garage. When the doors glide open, I expect to find half an army down here, but there’s only two guys in suits. Both have cigarettes in hand and are staring at me blankly as though they just received a surprise guest. I charge the first guy, pistol-whipping him hard enough to knock him out. The second goes for his gun, and I kick his legs out from underneath him, nailing him in the temple with my fist. My eyes dart over every shadowy inch of the parking garage before I get up and jog towards my motorbike still parked where it was left all those months ago. It coughs and splutters as I turn the key, but eventually roars to life. If there was no army of Nero’s men before, there will be soon. I place a small earpiece in my ear and swing my bag onto my back before I’m wheel spinning out of the parking garage. My phone rings, buzzing in my pocket. I press a button on my ear piece and Billy James’ voice comes over the line.

“Where am I meeting ya?” he says in his thick southern accent. Billy is a pilot who has gotten me out of some dicey situations. He’s very good at forging the necessary paperwork for bogus flight plans.

“Teterboro. I’ll be there in about half an hour,” I shout over the roaring engine of the bike.

“Yes ma’am.” He hangs up and I drop the bike a gear, sending it hurtling towards the George Washington bridge. I may be away from Nero, but I never underestimate his power or reach. New York is his city, and as long as I’m in it he can catch me. I don’t know what scares me more now, Nicholai or what Nero will do. He’s going to be so pissed. I wish I could have explained this to him, but he won’t listen to anything rational when it comes to me or the baby. Nicholai taking Anna has forced my hand, but it also made me realize there is nowhere we can run. We could fight, but he has us outgunned in every way. He got to Anna, and that means he can get to me, so I’m taking control. I’m taking a page out of Nero’s book and playing it smart, being strategic. I will end this, one way or another.

When I pull up to the runway, the guard takes one look at me and waves me through. Again, Nicholai’s reach is far. This is one of the runways we use to move in and out of the country unnoticed. The Elite are ghosts, and ghosts fly under the radar at all times. The Americans need never know of our existence, not even aliases if it can be helped.

I drive the bike over to hangar six and park it in the corner, pulling a tarp over it. I have no doubt that Nero has a tracker on it, but I’ll be long gone by the time he finds it. Billy leans against the steps of a small private jet, thick arms folded over his gut and a cigarette hanging from between his lips.

“I thought you weren’t supposed to smoke around jet fuel,” I say dryly.

He smiles, taking the smoke and flicking it across the hangar. I roll my eyes. Jesus, this is what happens when you employ a redneck to fly you around. I shove a stack of bills into his hand and climb the steps.

“Well ain’t you cheerful tonight, blondie? Ya know, I dropped everything to fly you.”

I stop at the top of the steps. “Very kind of you. I’m sure that ten grand helped.”

He sniffs as he walks up the steps. “Ain’t gonna hurt.” That’s what I thought.

I take a seat on one of the leather chairs and lean back in it, bracing my head against the headrest. My stomach is churning with anticipation. I wish I could turn back, I really do, but I push those thoughts aside and focus on the part of me that’s been lying dormant. I search for the girl that experienced too much too young, that saw horrors and did things her own fragile mind couldn’t comprehend. The girl who became a monster. I need that girl again. That girl was broken and unfeeling and she missed out on so much, but she was capable of taking down Nicholai. It’s so easy to just slip into that dark place where fear and pain do not exist. That place is easy, but it’s also dangerous. I could easily lose myself there and forget what I’m fighting for. The memory of Nero, of what we have…Nicholai will try to strip me of it. Nicholai always told me that love is weak, forced me to shoot Alex, the boy I loved, just to prove it. But he’s wrong. Love can make you stronger than ever, because the fact is, Nero and I are stronger together than we are apart. And with him at my side, we are a force of nature, a fucking hurricane. Nicholai has no idea the kind of hornet’s nest he is kicking. I know Nero will rain hell down on Nicholai in every way he can, and my capo can be quite inventive. This is a war on two fronts.

Several hours later and the plane bumps onto the runway. I managed to sleep a little but it was interrupted with violent dreams of blood and torture. As soon as the plane comes to a stop, I stand up.

“There’s a jacket there for ya,” Billy shouts from the cockpit. I pick up the winter jacket tossed over one of the spare seats and put it on. I hadn’t even thought of that, and, of course, Russia is freezing.

“Thanks!” I shout back and descend the steps. My boots leave footprints on the snowy runway. The freezing wind bites at any exposed skin, making me shiver violently. I’d forgotten what real cold feels like. Moscow is like an apocalyptic hell in winter. We’ve landed in another private airport on the outskirts of the city, and now, Nicholai will know I’m here. He has spies everywhere, but this is a bratva entry point and is constantly watched. I pick up my pace, jogging to the gate that exits the airport and ducking beneath the barrier. The airstrip is right in the middle of a small town, again, so that it can be easily monitored. I make my way down one of the side streets and glance over my shoulder quickly before stopping outside an old, run-down looking garage. The paint is peeling from the door, and the hinges sit at a strange angle as the rotted wood sags heavily. Taking my bike keys from my pocket, I select a small rusted key and unfasten the iron padlock, wiggling the lock before it finally releases. I have to heave my entire weight behind each door to push it open and reveal an older model Jeep Cherokee. All over the world, Sasha and I have safe houses, storage lockers full of supplies, cars. This is one of Sasha’s.

I go to the back and feel inside the tail pipe for the key, then unlock the door and slide behind the wheel. Thick clouds of fog swirl in front of my face as I turn the ignition over and the car coughs. A low whirring comes from the laboring engine before it begrudgingly sputters to life. This is it, the final leg of my journey, and as I pull out onto the dark Moscow streets, it feels very much as though I’m driving right into the gates of hell.

Minutes drift into hours, and I think of Nero. Glancing at my phone, I note the blinking red battery. I think about it for only a moment before I’m dialing his number. It’s stupid and sentimental, and I know better than anyone that I have no room for sentiment—but just one last time.

“Una.” His voice is strained and tight, laced with a rage that would make grown men shrink back in fear.

“Capo,” I whisper.

There’s a beat of silence. “You’re in Russia.”

“I know you don’t understand, but…”

“Turn the fuck around, right now. Wherever you are, stop. I’ll come for you.”

A stabbing sensation takes up residence in my chest. “I can’t.”

“You would do this? You would hand him our baby?”

He sounds so hurt, and behind all that rage I know he must be in agony. My eyes prickle with unshed tears again and I bite my lip angrily. “Please trust me. I have a plan. You will have the baby.”

There’s a pause. “But not you?”

I say nothing for a moment. “I promised I would come back to you in one way or another.” Even if he only gets a piece of me, that baby will be all the best pieces. The untainted ones.

“Morte, please…” His voice breaks, and I squeeze the steering wheel tight until my knuckles turn white.

“I love you,” I tell him.

“Una…” I hang up and a lump lodges in my throat. Emotions threaten to bubble over, but I lock them down. I shove them into a deep, dark recess of my shattered heart, and erect a steel wall around it. That is where Nero will live until I can see him again, or until I die. He’ll remain locked behind impenetrable steel because the Una that Nicholai wants, his little dove, she cannot love.

After hours of driving, I turn down a desolate track that’s barely noticeable in the thick snow, but I could find this road with my eyes closed. In the same way that a bird always knows where to migrate, this is instinctual. I once called this place home, after all. A wall of snow rushes at my headlights as I follow the tree line. Eventually, a bright spot of light becomes visible in the distance. The closer I get, the brighter and bigger that singular light becomes. I stop the car right in front of the eight-foot tall chain-link gate. Razor wire looms ominously, the jagged edges casting shadows through the light.

I cut the engine and close my eyes, resting my forehead against the steering wheel. This is it, the moment it all ends. I hear the rickety clicking of the gate sliding back and when I open my eyes, two figures are standing in the gap, the snow eerily billowing around them. My numb fingers reach for the door handle, and bitter-cold winds rips through me. I force myself to stand and face the two men in front of me, refusing to show fear because fear is power.

“I’m here to see Nicholai,” I shout over the raging winds, reverting to my native tongue.

A rifle is pointed at me and the guy on the right jerks his head behind him. Their faces are covered, leaving me unable to make them out. I walk towards the small concrete building buried in the snow. The roof is a curved dome and, to the unsuspecting eye, it looks like nothing more than an old aircraft hangar, but it sinks well below the earth and is an impenetrable maze of tunnels built to withstand nuclear attack. Nicholai is nothing if not paranoid and insane.

They pause outside the door to the vehicle bay. One of them pats me down, removing the single .40 Cal from the back of my jeans before pushing me forward. The door opens in front of me. A rifle is jabbed into my back and used to shove me forward a step. The first part of the bunker is the vehicle bay, and standing there, between the SUVs and snow mobiles, is Nicholai. His hands are folded in front of him. His wool coat layered over a pristine suit. He looks so utterly flawless and so out of place in this frozen hell. The irony is that he is, in fact, perfectly placed. The heartless devil presiding over his kingdom of torture and control.

“Little dove,” he breathes, his face breaking into a wide smile.

Even though every muscle in my body is tense, readying to fight, I remain stoic. I fully acknowledge the threat in front of me. And it’s strange, because although I’ve been away for several years, I have always viewed Nicholai as a father figure, someone who helped me, who made me strong. I knew he was flawed. I knew it was hard and ugly, but I accepted it. I was loyal to him. Until now. Until he wants my child. Because suddenly, the things he did, his methods and his motivations, are not justified. And it isn’t until now, until it’s my child he wants, that I see that so clearly. Nicholai is not my savior, but my persecutor. I now see him as the sick and twisted creature he is.

He steps closer, reaching a hand towards my stomach. I growl and twist away from him. “Where is Anna?”

“She is safe.”

“You will release her immediately.”

“My sweet little dove.” He grips my jaw on a maniacal laugh. “You are nothing here.” He squeezes until pain radiates through my face. “You are only what I made you. You. Are. A disappointment.”

“Let Anna go.” I wrench my face away from him and drop to a crouch, kicking at the legs of the man with the gun. He hits the ground with a thud. I pop up with his gun raised and pointed in Nicholai’s direction.

“Ah, you see…” he tucks his hands in his pockets and walks a few paces to the right. “You always were the best, Una. Better than anyone else.” Icy-blue eyes meet mine. “You made me so proud.”

On some silent signal, figures emerge from the shadowy recesses of the garage. At least twenty or so, all armed, all Elite. They won’t be as good as me, but I can’t take twenty.

“Will you kill me, little dove?”

“Release Anna.”

“I would have. But you continue to insult and dishonor me at every turn. So, I will not give you honor. Your sister will stay here. Perhaps she will motivate you.” I had a feeling he would do this, and it makes my task here infinitely more difficult. Two figures move in on either side, one pointing a gun at my head, the other aims the gun at my stomach. Looks like Nicholai is making them as ruthless as ever. Left without any choices, I drop the gun and hold my hands up.

I’m led through corridors that I could navigate with my eyes shut, shivering violently as the concrete walls of the underground fortress seem to emit cold like the inside of a refrigerator. I’m locked in a cell on the very same wing I stayed in when I first came here. Nicholai saved me from the clutches of would be rapists only to bring me here and have me locked up. I stayed here for weeks. The guards wouldn’t talk to me. I was deprived of sleep, food, beaten…and after weeks, Nicholai ‘reappeared’, telling me he’d had to leave me. I was thirteen. I’d lost both my parents, been torn from my sister, nearly raped…he seemed like a savior to a little girl who had never had one. And what did I have to do in exchange for his kindness, his respect, his adoration? I had to be strong. I had to be the best. I had to kill. And as long as I did those things, I believed I had his love. I think I needed it because despite him beating it out of me, despite him forcing me to shoot Alex...isn’t love the only real motivator in this world? As humans we crave it, need it, and will do almost anything for it. It is our ultimate and unavoidable weakness. I sold my soul for the love of a man who uses the adoration of helpless children to build an army.