“We,” he snarls, “had an arrangement. One as solid as if it were written in blood. In a way, it was. And then you appear from nowhere, his weak slut of a daughter’s bastard son. It’s not fucking fair.”
Something snaps and I press the gun into his forehead, pushing it into his skin. “You do not ever mention my mother again, or you die now. It’s over, Melor. Even Denis is with me.”
“That weak fuck.”
“You either confess to my bratva”—I use the wordmydeliberately—“that you were behind everything, and then you pack your bags and fuck off out of Chicago so I never see or hear of you again, or I kill you. Right here.” I stare him in the eye. “Right now. Your choice.”
Melor smiles nastily. “If you were to kill me right now, Ilya, none of your men, including Denis, will ever believe you. They trust me. They don’t trust you. If I’m dead, why thefuck would they ever believe I was behind the slaughter of their comrades?”
I smirk and hold up my phone. “See that? It’s a recording app. I hit it after you watched the video. All this has been recorded and sent to the cloud. Smash the phone, and it’ll still exist. Technology is good,da?”
Fury darkens his face. But then he smiles. “There’s one more thing you haven’t considered. The reason why I met Simonov. We made another deal. Right now, Simonov is holding up his end of the bargain.”
“What the fuck do you mean?”
“I mean he should be kidnapping your Alina. Her dead first love is an easy way to get her in,da? Tell her we have information on his real killer, and poof. She’ll forget you and be ours to do with what we wish. Her death or her life is in your hands. Which it will be is up to you.”
Ice floods me. I don’t believe him. I can’t.
Alina… Shit. Why the fuck did Svetlana call earlier? Over my girl?
Terror grips hard.
I tighten my hold on the gun, my finger hugging the trigger.
“Not so fast, Ilya,” he says softly. “Either you let me go, or you’ll never see Alina again. Life or death, remember? If Simonov doesn’t get a call from me every ten minutes, as in he hears my voice, then she’s dead.”
I glare at him.
My finger on the trigger shakes so much from fighting the urge to pull I move it. I’m ice. Even though I burn deep inside.
I tell myself he could be bluffing, but I don’t care.
This is my love. Alina. I’m not taking the risk.
I call her, but it goes straight to voicemail.
I grab hold of him and march him out of his house andinto the trunk of my car. I don’t care if anyone sees. I speed home, blasting through red lights, swerving around other cars.
The gates are open. There’s a guard, slumped dead, in the guardhouse.
Another lying in a pool of blood just inside. Then, a third. That’s all the guards on duty right now.
Fuck. Fuck.Fuck.
As I pull up, Svetlana runs out. Albert barks and runs around her, nipping at her dress and trying to drag her to me.
He stops then barks as he rushes up to me, his lead trailing.
“Mr. Ilya, please!” Svetlana is beside herself as Albert bites at my trousers. “I don’t know where Miss Alina is. She’s gone!”
Chapter Thirty-One
ALINA
The chloroform,or whatever the man used to knock me out, eventually wears off.
It’s not the same basement room. For one, there are no stairs. I’m assuming it’s a basement since there aren’t any windows, and there’s a dusty, slightly musty smell to it. It’s cool but not cold, and the temperature doesn’t change that much. There’s a ratty sofa and two doors.
