Page 191 of Bleed with Me

“Some are sold to people who want them for sex. Some disappear into illegal adoptions. Others are matched to buyers looking for organs. Whoever pays enough gets what they want, and the people running it make sure no one ever asks the right questions.”

For a moment, no one said a word. I swallowed thickly, trying to process the new information.

“What about the Carliles?” Zyon mumbled. I could see the gears in his head turning. “Do they belong to them?”

Dad nodded slowly.

“They lent Giovanni the most.”

“Great,” Dorian rumbled, letting go of me and taking a menacing step toward my dad. “So, you basically sold your daughter to a bunch of pedophiles and sex traffickers. Tell me again, why are you still breathing?”

“I…” Dad glanced at me sadly. “I’m sorry, Nina. I—”

“Oh, shut up,” Zyon cut him off. “If I only imagine someone doing this to Zara.” His hand instinctively went to his hip where his gun was. My breath hitched. Despite everything, I didn’t want them to kill Dad.

“It’s taken care of now, right?” I forced a smile at Dorian, whose raging eyes startled me. “I’m your wife.” I clutched his hand as if it were my lifeline. “They won’t touch me.”

“I don’t think you understand the true meaning of that deal.” Dad exhaled heavily, shaking his head. “They want the power and influence of the Valentino name.”

“But if we pay the debt—” Dorian mused, but was cut short.

“Don’t be naïve, Dorian. Even if you give them four hundred million dollars, they won’t agree.” My heart skipped a beat at the amount. “They’ve been promised something much more val—”

“Wait, wait, wait.” Dorian raised his hand to stop Dad from speaking. “Four hundred million dollars? Malin found sixty.”

“Cute.” Dad let out a humorless laugh. “Sixty was just the last loan. When Giovanni found out his plan to kill Zyon failed.” His eyes drifted to me. “The marriage is worth four hundred million dollars. And what comes with it is priceless for their organization.” His brows twisted with concern. “With Nina having the last name Zhumagulov, you’re at war, Zyon. One I’m not sure you can win.”

-76-

Dorian

Two weeks had passed since the talk with Lorenzo, and nothing suggested we were at war. My marriage to Nina went public, causing a minor earthquake, and Sonny Carlile left New York for a few days, probably to escape the public humiliation and questions about why his PR team had announced an engagement to Nina while she was already with another man.

Zyon kept repeating that I should be vigilant about him. Sonny had every reason to want revenge, and my senses were constantly on alert. I even moved Sasha and three others to my house just as a precaution.

Lorenzo announced that he was stepping down as the head of the Valentino family, with Nina taking the lead. And Malin worked like a fucking workaholic to find out everything possible about The Circle. He already had a thin file, and it didn’t grow any thicker, no matter how many hours he spent hammering away at his laptop.

But he did provide something useful, at least. Three names connected to the organization. It wasn’t rock-solid information, but as he claimed, those names appeared multiple times on the dark web, posted by people who swore they’d escaped the network.

Sebastian Ward, United States District Judge for the Southern District of New York.

Dennise Armolette, Chairman of Meridian National Bank, one of America’s largest private banking institutions.

And eventually, he found leads suggesting that a certain Meredith Cole, a candidate for NY mayor, was involved, too.

My stomach knotted every time I replayed the conversation with my brothers in Malin’s hospital room. We couldn’t just declare war on a judge. It was wild, unprecedented. Yet the federal trafficking and corruption cases that passed through Ward’s courtroom gave us enough reason to watch him.

Evidence disappeared on technicalities. Warrants were denied without explanation. Defendants connected to the same charities received laughable sentences, while investigators pursuing them found their cases sealed or reassigned. None of it proved he belonged to the Circle. Together, however, the decisions formed a pattern too precise to be accidental.

“Is there something we can do to make his job harder before locking him up in a dungeon?” Zyon asked, glancing at the sun slowly disappearing behind the Manhattan skyscrapers. “Because once we do it, they’ll know we know.”

“We can hit him with a car,” I suggested, chuckling at their unamused expressions. “What? It’s the easiest solution. If a drunk driver runs him over, how can anyone tie it to us?”

“Do you have someone particular in mind?” Zyon leaned against the wall, arms crossed.

“More than a few,” Malin grumbled, pounding his fingers ferociously on his laptop keyboard. Over the past couple of weeks, he turned his hospital room into an office. “But.” He raised his eyes from the screen. “Maybe we can make someone look into him.”

“They’ll stop it,” Zyon sighed. “We’re criminals and can make investigations disappear. Can you imagine their power?”