I feel it before I hear it. The rhythm stutters. Catches. Slows.
His eyes don't open.
The monitor's steady beep becomes erratic. Then faster. Then?—
One long, continuous tone.
Dr. Petrov moves forward. Checks the readings. Presses fingers to my father's throat.
I already know.
The hand in mine has gone slack. The chest beneath the white sheets has stopped rising.
Alexei Baganov, pakhan of the Chicago Bratva, is dead.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Vittoria
The compound's living room feels too bright after the dimness of the Baganov estate.
"Alexei Baganov is dead."
The words fall into the silence like stones into still water.
Nico's expression doesn't change. He already suspected, probably. He always knows things before anyone tells him.
Bruno's jaw tightens. That's all.
I sink onto the leather sofa, exhaustion pulling at every muscle. The drive home felt endless. Dante didn't speak the entire way.
"When?" Nico asks.
"A few hours ago." I press my palms against my thighs, grounding myself.
My mind drifts back to the Baganov estate. To the moment the door opened and Vladimir appeared, half-carrying Natalia. Her face was red and swollen, tears streaming down her cheeks, her whole body shaking like a leaf in a storm.
Can you stay with her?Vladimir's voice had been rough.Just for a while.
I didn't ask questions. I just opened my arms.
Natalia collapsed into me like a puppet with cut strings. Her sobs soaked through my dress, her fingers clutching at my back with desperate strength. She didn't speak. Couldn't speak. Just cried and cried and cried.
I held her.
I stroked her hair. I didn't say it would be okay. I didn't say anything at all.
So I just held her. Let her cry. Let her shake. Let her grieve.
Minutes passed. Maybe longer. The sobs gradually quieted. The trembling eased. Her breathing slowed from ragged gasps to something steadier.
She didn't pull away. Neither did I.
After an hour—maybe more, time had lost all meaning—the door opened.
Dmitri stood in the doorway. His face was blank, completely empty, but his eyes... his eyes held something shattered.
"It's late." His voice came out hoarse. Raw. "You should go home."
