"Enough, Natasha." His voice was flat and absolute. "You'll ruin the stake before we collect."
Natasha ground her teeth and slipped the weapon back, stepping aside.
Salvatore looked me over, exhaled smoke, and gave a smile that carried meaning.
"Love makes a mess of a man," he said. "You look worn out."
"What do you want?" I asked.
"Straightforward — I like that." He moved closer; he was half a head shorter than me. "You know what I want, Igor."
A henchman presented a folder in both hands. Salvatore took it and continued.
"Here's a list of your East Coast operations: arms routes, laundering channels, warehouses in Brooklyn and elsewhere. Transfer them to me, and your woman and child live. Fair deal." He shoved the paperwork toward me and flicked ash.
I looked at the file. I didn't take it.
"I need time," I said.
"Time?" Salvatore raised a brow. "You expect to bargain?"
"I can't decide this alone." I stayed calm. "Bratva rules. A move this big needs a family meeting. I need to convince them."
He watched me, weighing whether I was stalling.
"Give me a week. I'll call the meeting and get them to agree. Then I'll sign everything over."
"A week's too long." Salvatore shook his head.
"Three days," I said. "Three is my limit. Less than that, I can't sway the old men."
He thought, then nodded. "Three days. But your woman and child stay here as collateral. Three days from now you bring signed papers and trade them. Try anything—"
"They'll die horrible deaths," Natasha finished, buzzing with excitement.
"No!" Elena cried out. "Igor, don't trust them—"
A guard clapped a hand over her mouth. Stella screamed into the cage.
My chest felt like concrete. I had to keep them alive. I had to wait for the right moment.
"Let me speak to them," I demanded.
Salvatore held my gaze for a long second.
"If you don't allow that, the deal's off," I said.
He stubbed out the cigar and blew smoke. "Fine. Don't try anything. My men will keep guns on them. Any move and they die instantly."
I said nothing and stepped forward to Elena. Two guards raised rifles and trained them on us.
I stopped in front of her and looked into her swollen, red-rimmed eyes.
"Igor." Her voice was raw.
I brushed a thumb across her cheek and tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear.
"Sorry. I should've kept Artyom at the apartment."
