Page 98 of Ruthless Reign

Pavel sighs heavily. "It seems that way. We compared the tire treads from the port attack to the vehicle found at the shootout. Both sets are the same high-performance tires, nearly impossible to find in Russia. Only a few people would have the money or interest to import them. I think it’s safe to say that both vehicles came from the same source.”

“I'd ask why they’re targeting me, except I think it's clear." I shake my head, pacing back and forth in a short, tight line. “I’m heading up the shipping deal.”

“You think they want to fuck with our deal?”

“More than that, I think they want to eliminate us.” I roll my shoulders and groan. “We’re the biggest fish in Russia. Take down the Belov Syndicate, and you clear the way to dominate organized crime in the country."

Pavel mumbles a curse under his breath. “Aligning with the Petroviches would certainly be a good way to consolidate their power.”

The hairs on my arms stand on end. “Working together to crush us. Fucking ballsy, I'll give them that. Even if all they’ve managed to do is sign their own death warrant.”

“We still need more to go on,” Pavel points out. “Viktor has our hackers pulling all the logs and surveillance videos from the port, and Savin arrived there today. Whatever shit went down, we’ll soon know about it.”

My jaw clenches, and a weight settles in my gut. “I’ll loop Maxim in. Call me if you learn anything else. Whatever it is.”

As soon as my call with Pavel wraps up, I text Maxim that we need to speak ASAP. Although I’d much rather have Liza on her knees, holding onto the headboard, I need to debrief Maxim—war is on the horizon.

CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

LIZA

I can’t believe it. There's a million dollars in my trading account. I’ve made enough money to pay Anatoly back.

I stare at the numbers on my screen. I check once, twice, refreshing the app to make sure it’s not just a glitch or my eyes playing tricks on me, but it’s real. A one with six zeros following it sits in my account. Money I earned myself.

A day ago, I invested in a high-yield, high-risk tech stock that I sensed was going to soar, and it paid off in spades. Excitement courses through me. I could cut Anatoly a check today if I wanted to and walk away from him forever.

Freedom is within reach.

My chest explodes with something bright and happy, and my first instinct is to run and tell Roman. To fall into his arms and celebrate with him.

But I can’t do that. At least, not about this.

I'm about to put my phone away when Sofiya’s number flashes on the screen. A wide smile spreads across my face—she's probably calling to tell me about the play.

“Hey! How did it go?” I press the phone to my ear. “Did you wow the audience with your rendition of Do-Re-Mi?”

“What in the world are you talking about?”

My blood freezes to ice the moment I hear my mother’s voice through the line.

“Mama?” I choke. “What happened to Sofiya?”

"You selfish brat. I took Sofiya’s phone because I knew you'd only answer a call from your sister. What kind of ingrate hides out days before her very high-profile wedding and refuses to take calls from her mother and fiancé?”

A cold sweat coats my skin, and a tight discomfort knots in my chest. “You know why I had to?—”

“You expect me to believe that you're hiding because of an attack you clearly weren't the intended target of? You’re using this as an excuse to avoid wedding duties. Where are you and Kira? A spa in Budapest or skiing in Gstaad?”

“Nothing like that.” I harden my voice. I refuse to let her speak to me like this, not after all I’ve sacrificed for her and my father. “I’ll be home in time for the rehearsal dinner. You and Talya have done everything; you never asked for my input, so I don’t understand the issue.”

“Anatoly is losing his mind,” she scolds. “I honestly don’t know what’s gotten into you lately. You’re acting like it’s a chore to marry one of the wealthiest men in Russia.”

Bitterness scorches the back of my throat, and I can't hold back the words that spill out. "It is a chore! Worse than a chore. He's terrible. I've tried everything to make it work. I did everything to make him happy, but it’s never enough. And you don’t care, as long as the money keeps flowing into your bank account."

My mother makes an irritated tsk in the back of her throat. "You sound like a whiny child. Well, consider yourself warned. If you don’t come home now, Anatoly will marry your sister instead."

The air leaves my lungs in a steady whoosh. “No … you can’t. She’s seventeen! How could you agree to that?”

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