"If."
"When," I growl. "I'm not letting her die because of me."
"Then we need a plan better than you walking in there with guns blazing." Alessandro reaches for his phone.
“You do what you have to, I’m leaving.” I turn to leave, my mind already mapping the fastest route to the Morozova warehouse.
I don't need Alessandro's permission or help. I've been on my own for seven years. I know what to do, maybe even better than he does.
"Luca, stop." Alessandro's voice hardens. "You're not walking out that door."
"Watch me." I don't even turn around.
"Jesus Christ, if you go in there half-cocked, you're signing both your death warrants."
I whirl around. "What the fuck do you want me to do? Sit here and wait while they torture her?"
Alessandro steps toward me, his expression shifting in a way I've rarely seen. "I'm not telling you this as the head of this family. I'm telling you as your brother."
The unexpected sincerity stops me cold.
"I just got you back," he continues. "Seven years, Luca. Seven years of wondering if you were even alive."
"You had men watching me?"
"Not watching. Just… confirming." He runs a hand over his face. "You think I wanted you gone? You're my blood. My little brother."
Something tightens in my chest. All this time, I thought Alessandro was glad to be rid of me. One less competitor for the throne. But the sincerity in his eyes tells a different story.
“We live in a dangerous world, Luca, but this is not the way for you to go out. Not now. Not like this."
If I had time, I’d want to savor the moment of connection with my brother. But there is no time.
I shake my head. "I appreciate what you're saying. I do. But there is no other way."
He gives me a curt nod. I turn and leave, wondering if I should have said something more poignant to him since I probably won’t ever see him again.
The Morozova compound looms ahead in the darkness. I park half a mile out, avoiding security cameras as I approach on foot through the woods.
Two handguns and three knives are strapped to various parts of my body.
But five weapons on one man is still no challenge to an army. But I’m resolved to die.
As long as Maksim goes first.
The perimeter guards are my first obstacle.
I take them silently, one by one, leaving dead bodies hidden in the shadows.
All that changes when I reach the eastern entrance.
A guard spots me, shouts a warning.
My silenced pistol fires twice. He drops.
Two men appear around a corner. I fire without hesitation. The first catches a bullet in the throat. The second manages tosqueeze off a shot that grazes my shoulder before a bullet hits the center of his chest.
I ignore the warmth of blood dripping down my arm as I slip inside and navigate the maze-like interior.
