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“You left him to be slaughtered like an animal!” My voice cracked through the warehouse like a whip.

I raised my gun before I even registered the movement. Nico froze, breath stuttering. This man was one of the four pillars I built my empire on. A man I trusted to guard my daughter, my home, my future.

And he had betrayed that trust with a shrug and a coward’s silence.

“Stanislav—” Yuriy’s voice slurred behind me.

He staggered, caught himself on my arm, and gently pushed the muzzle of my gun down with a trembling hand.

“Don’t,” he murmured, breath warm against my shoulder. “The grudge between me and your men doesn’t vanish because we sleep together. We shouldn’t have expected them to throw themselves in front of bullets for someone they can barely tolerate.”

“They all deserve to die for disobeying orders,” I snapped.

“You only think that because I’m hurt.” He smiled weakly at Nico. Actually smiled. “I’ve been through worse. And he did come back in the end. Bought me enough time for my knight in shining armor to show up, so why don’t you cut him some slack?”

I stared at Yuriy.

My beautiful, bleeding idiot. He was trying to lighten the moment, to keep me from killing someone in front of him while he was barely standing.

Nico swallowed hard. “Boss… I don’t expect forgiveness. I just ask for a chance to make this right. Arty—” His voice cracked. “Arty cursed us out for abandoning Yuriy. He was just a driver, and he still understood our oath better than we did. I failed you. But I know better now. If you give me one more chance, I’ll serve you the way I should have tonight.”

My chest tightened, not with mercy but with grief. Tonight had cost us blood, loyalty, and a good man whose name would sit heavy on all our tongues for a lifetime.

“For god’s sake, Stanislav,” Yuriy muttered, leaning harder into me, his breathing shallow. “Forgive him already. Then get me to a hospital. I don’t feel so good.”

His weight buckled.

I caught him inches from the floor.

“Yuriy?”

No answer.

Something wet coated my right hand—Warm and thick. I lifted my hand. Blood coated my palm, dark and slick under the warehouse lights. A trail of it led from the corner where he’d been sitting, smeared across the concrete toward me.

The world tilted, but not with fear. With rage. I turned to Bruno’s corpse, jaw clenched so tightly it hurt. And the fury inside me promised the Mancinis would never know peace again.

35

YURIY

Painkillers were magical. Not because they stopped the pain—mine was still humming low and steady beneath my skin—but because they made you forget to care about it.

Which was probably why I thought it was an excellent idea to climb out of the hospital bed shortly after being looked after by the doctor and my injuries treated, disconnect myself from the medical equipment, and casually stroll down the hallway with my IV pole.

I shuffled in my socks, hospital gown half-open at the back, bandages tugging whenever I breathed too deeply.

Broken nose taped.

Stitches along my brow.

Cheeks bandaged.

Bandage around my ribs.

A constellation of bruises blooming everywhere else.

A masterpiece of that night’s near-death experience.