After a second lifetime, Sidorov has reached the clause on page fourteen. He lingers, saying nothing, and then passes it to his lawyer, saying something in Russian. The lawyer responds in kind and then reviews before adding something else.
Sidorov nods and turns to us. “I will agree to the change.”
There’s a knock at the door. Our guards tense up as Sidorov calls out in his native language. When it opens, Scorpion is standing on the other side, Ekaterina flung over his shoulder much the same way I saw her last, back in the safe house. And as before, she’s squawking and squirming, legs flailing. He spanks her ass.
“Behave,” he warns her like he doesn’t have an audience of half a dozen top Bratva killers and Ekaterina’s own brother.
I turn to Sidorov, who looks faintly amused for the first time.
“I have a present to deliver,” he announces, stalking into the room and dumping her into an empty chair.
There’s duct tape over her mouth and fury in her eyes. Her hands are cuffed together. She’s saying something, but her words are muffled and likely Russian curses anyway. Her tone sounds venomous.
Sidorov chuckles. “She is a wild one. Perhaps you’ll be man enough to handle her, Andriani.” He pauses, giving Scorpion a disdainful once-over. “But then again, perhaps not. We shall see,da?”
“What the fuck is he talking about?” Scorpion asks our older brother.
But he’s not getting an explanation right now. That’s going to have to wait.
The Pakhan speaks to Ekaterina in Russian, his voice firm and unrelenting, and she stills, her eyes going wide.
“I believe you owe us four people,” Priest drawls to Sidorov, a barely leashed note of menace in his voice.
The Pakhan nods and instructs one of his guards to bring out their “guests.” I clench my jaw at his insistence on pretending like this was all one big friendly visit. If I ever have half a chance to clip this bastard, you better believe I’m going to take it.
But I forget about vengeance and my hatred for Sidorov almost immediately, because the door to the meeting room opens, and Isla comes pouring through it, looking rumpled and pale but otherwise unscathed.
I don’t give a fuck that there are Andrianis and Bratva men ringing this room, hands ready to whip out their guns. I make the first move, rushing across the space between us and taking her in my arms.
“Alessio,” she chokes out, holding me tightly, like she’s afraid I’ll vanish if she lets go.
“You’re safe now,tesoro,” I tell her. “I’ve got you, sweetheart.”
I’m dimly aware of Rocco and our other two men trailing into the room. From the looks of them, it’s clear they put up a fight to defend themselves and to keep Isla from being taken.
“Are you hurt, baby?” I ask her softly, breathing in the scent of her hair.
“I’m fine,” she murmurs. “But Rocco got shot. And Santino and Giovanni got into it with the men who took us. I think they all need to get checked out.”
Does this woman ever put herself first?
“You sure they didn’t hurt you?” I demand.
I’m ready to go to battle for her.
To do anything.
Everything. To kill, maim, bleed, or die.
“I’m sure,” she says, and when I feel her trembling, I’m tempted to do all those things at once.
How dare they put her through this shit? She’s been through enough already.
As if she senses the murderous direction of my thoughts, she pulls away to look up at me. “I’m okay, Alessio. I swear it.”
I nod, too choked up to respond, and draw her against me again, meeting Priest’s gaze. “We done here?”
Priest is in the middle of signing the marriage contract. “All we need is Sidorov’s signature.”
