Declan’s watching me. “You believe him?”
“No. But it doesn’t matter. Keep people looking. If he surfaces anywhere, I want to know.”
“And if he really disappeared?”
“Then the Petrov Bratva is finished and we can move on.”
We drive back to the city. The hunt continues for another week but Alexei doesn’t surface. No credit card usage. No sightings. No digital footprint.
Either he’s dead or he kept his word and disappeared.
Six weeks after the warehouse assault, I’m in a meeting with representatives from four different families. Julian’s there too. We’re discussing how to divide Petrov territory now that it’s available.
The Italians want the gambling operations. The Irish want the docks. Julian’s people want the restaurants. I want the warehouses. Everyone gets their piece. The city rebalances. Power shifts but stabilizes.
At the end of the meeting, the Italian representative stands and raises his glass. “To the end of the Petrov Bratva,” he says. “And to making sure we never give Cassian Rourke a reason to do to us what he did to them.”
Everyone drinks.
The message is clear. My family is untouchable. Anyone who forgets that ends up like the Petrovs.
Completely destroyed.
The Petrov Bratva is finished.
42
AURELIA
Dr. Hayes is signingdischarge papers when Cassian walks in looking like he hasn’t slept in days. His clothes are clean but rumpled, there’s a cut above his eyebrow that wasn’t there yesterday, and his knuckles are bruised like he’s been hitting things. Or people. Probably people.
He sees me noticing and offers a tired smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “Sorry I’m late. Had some stuff to take care of.”
Stuff. Right. I know exactly what kind of stuff he’s been handling for the last six weeks while I’ve been recovering in this facility.
Dr. Hayes doesn’t seem to notice or care about Cassian’s appearance, just continues reviewing my discharge instructions like she’s done this a hundred times before. Keep the incisions clean, physical therapy twice a week, no heavy lifting for another month, return immediately if any symptoms worsen.
I’m barely listening because Cassian’s moved to stand beside my bed and I can smell gunpowder underneath his cologne.
“You’ve been busy,” I say quietly.
“Making sure our family stays safe.”
Our family. Not just the boys. Not just me. All of us together.
“How many?” I ask.
“Does it matter?”
“No. I just want to know if it’s finished.”
“It’s finished. The Petrovs don’t exist anymore as an organization, and every other family in the city knows what happens if they come after us.”
Dr. Hayes finishes her paperwork and hands me copies of everything along with prescriptions for pain medication I’ll probably need for another few weeks. She tells me to take it easy, listen to my body, don’t push too hard too fast.
Then she leaves and we’re alone.
Cassian sits on the edge of my bed, careful not to jostle me even though I’m healing well enough now that small movements don’t send pain shooting through my ribs anymore.
