Page 72 of The Pakhans’ Curvy Prize

I pull on my heavy coat and boots while Russ does the same. The cold air hits my face the moment we step outside, sharp and clean after the suffocating tension inside. My breath comes out in white clouds as we walk toward the woodpile near the side of the cottage.

The ground crunches beneath my boots, frozen earth and dead leaves creating a brittle carpet. The woods around us are silent except for the occasional crack of a branch in the wind. It's peaceful out here, isolated, and for a moment I can almost pretend everything is normal.

Russ starts loading split logs into his arms, and I do the same. The wood is cold and rough against my palms. The physical activity feels good, giving my body something to do while my mind races.

"You're thinking too hard," Russ says, watching me.

"I have a lot to think about."

"Yeah, you do." He adds another log to his pile. "But thinking yourself in circles won't help."

"What will?"

"Trusting us."

I almost laugh. "Trust the three mafia bosses who've taken over my life?"

Russ just grins, puts a twig on top of the small load of wood I'm collecting in my arms, and grabs a log for his own stack.

"The mayor announced he's running for office," Russ says after a while.

I freeze, a log halfway to my arms. "What?"

He nods, then winces. For someone who was trying to take my mind off of things, he chose the wrong topic. "Sorry," he says. "He's running for Senate."

I'd seen that announcement weeks ago and scrolled past it without really processing what it meant. As far as I knew, Zach and his dad were no longer in my life, so the mayor running for a higher office didn't concern me. But now, knowing what I know about the mayor's corruption and his connection to the Bratva... let's just say his ambition takes on a whole new meaning.

The man who ruined my life is gaining more power and influence. If he wins, he'll have the ability to hurt even more people and get away with it. My stomach turns violently, and I have to set down the logs before I drop them. "I think I'm going to be sick."

Russ is beside me immediately, his hand on my back. The warmth of his palm seeps through my coat. "Breathe. Just breathe."

"He's going to win," I say, my voice shaking. "Men like him always win. They have money and connections and people like you paying them off. He'll become a state senator, and then what? Governor? He'll just keep climbing higher while people like me get crushed underneath."

"Hey." Russ turns me to face him, his hands on my shoulders. His grip is firm but gentle. "That's not going to happen."

"You can't promise that."

"The fuck I can't." His light eyes are fierce, burning with promise. "You think we're going to let some corrupt politician hurt you? We own him, Marla. He works for us, not the other way around."

We finish gathering the firewood in silence and carry it back inside. The cottage is warmer than outside but still tense with the energy of three men conducting dangerous business.

Alex is standing near the kitchen table, staring at his phone with a tight expression.

Nick notices too. "What is it?"

Alex doesn't look up from his phone. His voice is quiet, almost conversational, but there's something deadly underneath it.

"The mayor's son was spotted at the Ivory Wolf less than two weeks ago."

Shit. There's confirmation that Zach was in the area.

30

NICK

The Ivory Wolf is quieter on Tuesday afternoons than it is at night, but the place still hums with activity. Staff prepares for the evening rush, restocking the bar and setting tables in the main dining area. The lighting is softer during the day, less dramatic than the moody atmosphere the club cultivates after dark. Sunlight filters through the tall windows facing the street, illuminating dust particles floating in the air.

Alex and I walk through the main entrance together, our presence immediately noticed by everyone in the room. Conversations pause, and eyes cautiously follow our movement. The staff knows better than to approach us unless we signal them first.