“The baby.” Dante’s expression darkens. “Yes, that complication needs addressing. The Russians are quite concerned about timeline delays.”
He gathers the documents, continuing, “She can’t escape these obligations. Twenty-three companies, fifty million in laundered money, dozens of federal crimes spanning multiple jurisdictions. She’s tied to this network whether she likes it or not.”
“There has to be a way out,” I say desperately.
“The only way out is death. And even then, the companies would transfer to the next of kin.” Dante’s smile is reptilian. “Perhaps to your unborn child.”
“Enough.” Marco’s voice cuts through the room like a blade. He’s been silent through this entire revelation, standing by the window with his back to us. “We have guests.”
“What guests?” Alaric demands.
Marco turns around, and his face is pale but resigned. “Kasi, I hate that it had to come out this way.”
“What are you talking about?”
“The Russians. They’re here.”
“You’re working with them?” Alaric asks.
“Yes. For years now. Business was moving smoothly until she decided to run away and complicate everything.”
Alaric’s face goes white with rage. “You betrayed your own family.”
“I saved the family!” Marco yells. “Dante was obsessed with control instead of profit. The Russians were losing patience with his inefficiency.”
Dante goes very still, his voice deadly quiet. “So you killed me.”
“I tried to take down an obstacle that was costing us millions. The plane crash was supposed to solve two problems—remove you and draw Kasi back into the operations through the will.”
“You knew about the will,” Alaric realizes, staring at Marco like he’s seeing him for the first time.
“Of course I knew. Dante told me his contingency plans. Marry Kasi to family leadership, keep the networks operational, ensure business continuity.” Marco’s smile is cold. “I just didn’t expect the two of you to start having sex and have an actual baby on the way.”
“Hold on a damn minute,” Dante says, pointing one finger in the air. “You sabotaged my plane.”
“I solved a problem,” Marco replies. “But you had to survive, didn’t you? Had to come back and ruin everything?—”
The sound of footsteps in the hallway cuts him off. Multiple sets, moving in the same rhythm.
“What’s that?” I whisper.
Marco checks his watch. “Right on time.”
Alaric and Dante both draw their weapons simultaneously.
“How many?” Alaric demands.
“Enough.” Marco pulls out his own gun. “Boris doesn’t like to take chances.”
The footsteps stop outside the study door. Then it opens, and six men in dark suits enter like they own the place.
Boris Petrov leads them, a pale man with cold eyes who surveys the room like he’s evaluating real estate.
“Good morning, family Moretti,” he says in heavily accented English. “We have business to discuss.”
“How did you get past security?” Alaric demands, reaching for his weapon.
“Your cousin provided access codes and patrol schedules. Very helpful, this Marco.”
