That gives me power.
True power.
Something Christian will never have.
I think back to the horrid night. The night the one I call sister shot the man I fell in love with. The man who showed no sign of loving me back. The man who adamantly stated he was incapable of loving me. It was a weakness. He was also the man who took the bullet for me.
He was right. I was his weakness, and I am the reason he is dead.
I shut that shit down real quick.
Kenzi isthe reason he is dead.
Kenzi and Christian and all those who plot to take his empire. She aimed for me, but I wonder now if she knew that Matthias would jump in front of me to take the bullet. Killing me does nothing. Killing the leader of the Bratva in Seattle could have potentially destabilized the underground hierarchy, causing chaos and disruption.
Disruptions that would be easy enough for Christian to slink in and take advantage of, but he would never be able to hold on to that power. There isn’t enough left of Elias’s empire to successfully keep control of the underground. That does not mean he doesn’t have help.
The man with the silver cane.
My grandfather.
Seamus McDonough, the man whom my brother is named after. Libby wrote in her diary about him. The silver cross cane. My mother was a spitting image of him. I am reticent to approach my biological father about my grandfather. So buried in my grief I haven’t bothered to crack open the book that will soon decipher Libby’s rashly written code in the back of her journal.
It means going back to the penthouse and I am not ready. I am too cowardly to face the space we once shared. The memories it invokes.
Now, I am more than prepared to face what lies ahead.
“So,” Tomas breaks the silence. He leans forward, elbows braced on the table, a small smile tugging at his lips. “What is your plan?”
“Kill them all.”
forty-four
The funeral has wrecked me, but my conversation with Tomas has done far worse damage over the past week. Everyone is looking to me for answers. Answers I don’t have. There is so much to do on a daily basis that I barely have time to think about plotting revenge. Right now, I am just trying to keep the snakes at bay.
Pakhan.
I am the motherfucking leader of one of the most powerful Bratva in the United States, but it all feels too fantastical. Too fake. As if it will come crashing down at any moment. The bastard never told me he made me his heir.
Fucker probably thought he’d live forever.
News flash, he hadn’t.
Now I am expected to seek revenge on his behalf. Not that I have an aversion to seeking justice for his death, I planned on it long before the nuclear bomb dropped on my head. Exhaling harshly, I quietly stalk down the lower passages thatsnake below McDonough’s toward where Seamus has set up an operational center for finding Bailey.
“The old witch herself,” my father mutters darkly as I walk into the room. He is staring at a picture of an older woman talking with Kiernan. Immediately, I recognize her as one of the women who worked for Elias. “Quite the social climber, that one. What did she say to you when you were talking?”
“Well, she knew who I was,” my brother Kiernan divulges. “She was asking about Bailey’s sale price. I thought she worked for Lina.”
“She does,” I speak up from behind them. The three men turn around surprised to see me standing in the doorway, peering over their shoulders. Being invisible gives me some pretty neat ninja skills over the years. “So does her ex-fiancé Drew.”
“And you know this because…” Kiernan lets the question hang in the air. I smile at him, the gesture not quite reaching my eyes. “Well, we know Drew works for Christian. His logo is on the side of the containers he was using to ship his cargo.”
“All right, that was a gimme,” Seamus laughs, lightening the mood. I chuckle, but after the day I have had it comes out more wounded sounding than I would have liked. Jesus, they have been working down here for the last two weeks trying to find her and where was I? Trying to control an empire I have no business leading.
I run my gaze over the board. Shit, maybe they would have found her sooner if I was here helping.
“That woman.” I point at the picture of a woman I recognize. “And that one.” I point back to the tall woman my father calls an old witch. “Are the ones Elias placed in charge of strip clubs and brothels.”
