Vittoria's grip on my arm tightens. She doesn't ask anything else. Doesn't push. Just holds on.
"Yuri, home. Now."
The car lurches forward.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Vittoria
The car slows as we turn onto a long gravel driveway lined with bare oak trees. Through the tinted windows, I watch a sprawling estate emerge from the darkness.
Yuri parks near the front entrance where two black SUVs already sit. Behind us, Elio's headlights cut through the night.
Dmitri hasn't spoken since the call. His hand still grips mine, but his eyes stare straight ahead, seeing nothing.
"Dmitri." I squeeze his fingers. "I should go. This is your family. Your father."
He turns to me, and the rawness in his eyes steals my breath. "Stay."
One word.
I can't leave him. Not like this. Not when he's looking at me like this.
"Okay." I bring his hand to my lips, pressing a kiss to his scarred knuckles. "I'll stay."
He nods once, then releases my hand and opens the car door.
I follow him out, my heels crunching on gravel as I turn to find Elio already stepping from the SUV behind us.
I hold up my hand, catching his eye. A small shake of my head.
Wait here.
Elio's jaw tightens, but he nods. He doesn't like leaving me alone in Bratva territory, but he trusts my judgment. Or at least he trusts that I know what I'm doing.
I'm not sure I do.
Dmitri waits for me at the bottom of stone steps leading to massive wooden doors.
The door swings open before we reach it, and a woman stands in the golden light of the foyer. Tall, with Dmitri's sharp cheekbones and dark hair pulled back in a messy braid. Tears streak her face, and her eyes are red-rimmed, swollen.
"Dmitri." Her voice cracks. "You need to get in there. He's not—" A sob breaks through. "He's not gone yet, but the doctor said tonight. Tonight is the last night."
For a heartbeat, he stands frozen. Then he moves, brushing past his sister and disappearing into the house, his footsteps echoing on hardwood floors before fading down a hallway.
I remain on the threshold, suddenly aware of how out of place I am. This is grief. Private, family grief. I shouldn't be here, shouldn't be witnessing this moment that belongs to them alone.
The woman wipes her cheeks with the back of her hand and looks at me.
"You're Vittoria." Not a question.
"Yes."
She extends her hand. "I'm Karolina. Dmitri's sister."
I take it. Her grip is firm despite the trembling in her fingers. "I'm sorry. About your father."
Karolina's laugh is wet, broken. "He's a bastard. Was a bastard. But he's still our father." She steps back, pulling thedoor wider. "Come. Sit with us in the living room. The others are there."
