Page 62 of House of Lies

“No, sir.”

I expected as much. Domenico returns a few minutes later, accompanied by my cousin. His hair is messy, there are dark circles under his eyes, and he looks like he slept in his clothes.

“Vanya,” I acknowledge with a nod. “Take a seat.”

His eyes scan the room, assessing potential threats. Reluctantly, he sits on the couch beside me.

“What can I do for you?”

“Cut the crap, Kaz. I know you want to kill me.”

“Want is not exactly accurate. It’s more like need to.” Only if I have to. I took a couple of days to sleep it off and recover. Now I can think clearly again. I can do what my father taught me. I can think of every consequence before I act, something I didn’t do when I killed Ermanno. Vanya’s death will not be like the others for me. It won’t be blood that I can easily wash off my hands. We grew up together. “If you know that I’m planning to kill you, why are you here?”

“Because I’m loyal to you. I’m here to prove it.”

The puzzle pieces begin to fit together. Sevastyan killed my father to assume his position—an ingenious plan that succeeded until I claimed what rightfully belonged to me, a truth he couldn’t deny. So he concocted a scheme to eliminate me, setting me on a path of revenge against a man who never harmed my father. A man I killed, causing my brother to turn against me. He attempted to take me out by involving a cartel. This is not how I would have orchestrated it. I would have put a bullet between his eyes and been done with it. But he cannot afford the war that would follow my death. He’s resourceful, but it won’t be enough.

“There’s only one way for you to prove your loyalty, Vanya.”

“I know,” he replies, taking a deep breath. “You want my father dead, and I’ll kill him for you.”

I narrow my eyes. Family doesn’t mean much to me right now, not after everything that happened.

“You’re going to kill your father?”

“I am. I’ll tell you everything I know. And let me start by saying that you have a target on your back, Kaz. There’s a contract with your name on it. You need to go into lockdown.” A hitman does not frighten me. It’s no worse than the family that put out the contract. “And you have an even bigger problem.”

“What might that be?”

“He let Mattia go. He’s on his way to New York, and he’s after Caelia.”

“He won’t find her. She’s gone into hiding. I’ve been searching for her since she ran away.”

“He will,” he states, swallowing hard. “My father had someone watching her since the moment you arrived there. He followed in her footsteps and trailed her the night she escaped. He’ll find her, Kaz.”

He produces something from his pocket—a photograph of a woman who would be difficult to recognize if her image weren’t burned into my memory. Her hair is shorter now, reaching her shoulders, and it’s a deep, raven black. She wears a pair of fake glasses. The picture was taken at a bus station. My heart stops, refusing to beat again until she is safely by my side.

“Prepare the plane, Dmitri. And you,” I turn toward Vanya, “you’re coming with me. If you want a place in this family, you’ll help me bring her back.”

“It will end in blood.”

“It will end in blood.” I echo our family’s motto.

CHAPTER 39

Mattia

I stare blankly in the distance as they lower my father into the ground, trying to contain all the rage I’m feeling inside. I’m battered and bruised, but I can’t feel much apart from the violence bubbling inside me. I have been kept in a shitty dungeon somewhere in fucking Russia for more than half a year, thinking that I’ll never get to see the sun again. They tortured me. They starved me and kept me in chains. I will forever wear the marks around my wrists and the nightmares in my head.

Kazimir Mordvinov killed my father simply because he could. He didn’t want to listen to a word I had to say. The truth is, I wouldn’t have listened if I were in his place. I made a deal with Sevastyan. He freed me, and I promised to help him hide and kill Kazimir. For now, I will honor my word, but the ultimate fate of that rat is sealed. Whether he meets his end before or after Kazimir matters little to me. Perhaps he was right, and Ermanno Benedetti was not my father—certainly not by blood. But it makes no difference to me. He raised me. He made me who I am.

My mother never told me I had a twin brother, so you can imagine the shock that coursed through me when I awoke in captivity, face to face with a mirror image of myself. The initial weeks were tumultuous as I grappled with the realization that my brother is a deranged lunatic. He pretended to be me for half a year. He lived in my house. He drove my cars. He fucked my wife.

That cunt deserves everything I have in store for her.

I didn’t want to distract myself from my father’s funeral. I wanted to be here for my mother and Ludovic.

Now, my father rests in the ground.

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