Page 83 of Owned By The Bratva King

I pull up outside the house. I haven’t been here since I found my sister dead and returning feels like the worst of bad omens. This is a house of pain, death, and grief, and my feet are like lead as I ascend the steps.

To my surprise, Ricky Lubomski appears from behind a pillar, shotgun in hand.

“Don’t try anything, asshole,” he says. “I’m taking you to Silvio. He wants to set the record straight before you watch your woman die.”

I pause on the top step and stare at him. This man is no warrior; whatever crusade Silvio is on, Ricky is not a believer.

“When did you guys buddy up?” I ask. “You came to me looking for help.”

Ricky levels the gun at me. “Vercotti said he knew where witness protection hid my wife and daughter, and he’d take me to them in return for my assistance. I took him to see that Julian guy and brought them both here, but Vercotti had a different plan.”

I take a step closer. “He said he’d murder your family if you didn’t keep helping him, is that it? Why did you believe him? He’s probably full of shit.”

“I love my wife.” The heavy weapon sags in Ricky’s hands. “The kid, too, more than anything. I haven’t seen them in years and likely never will again, but there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for them. I couldn’t risk it, man. You get that, right? Isn’t that why you’re here alone?”

I have to take this steady. Ricky will fold if I ease him down.

“Don’t do this. Remember—no one will stick their neck out for Vercotti now. If he wanted to hurt your family, he’d have to do it himself, and he’s not getting out of this alive, I promise you that.”

Ricky’s hands are shaking. “So what do I do?” he asks. “He took my car keys.”

“Give me your gun and any other weapons you have, then split. There’s a diner back a mile toward the city; hole up there and wait for Leon to collect you. I’ll make sure he knows not to rough you up, okay?”

Ricky freezes for a moment, then thrusts the shotgun at me. “Here, take it.”

It’s a pump-action, with four rounds in the magazine and one in the chamber. It’s better than the weapon at my hip; precision isn’t necessary with a gun like this at my disposal.

Five shots. I only need one.

I watch him skitter through the grass and disappear down the track before silently turning the door handle and slipping through.

Hang on, rusalka. I’m coming.

I know the place like the back of my hand. The air is musty, filled with decay and neglect, but the peeling wallpaper and dirt-streaked paintwork echo when this was my sister’s family home. She chose all the decor and furniture. It was her pride and joy; now, it’s gone, like her.

Indistinct voices grow clearer as I move further inside. It’s Silvio and, to my relief, Quinn. I follow the sound, my pulse pounding, drowning out everything else.

“Nature calls,” Quinn’s voice is strained but steady. “Untie my legs, please. And you don’t need to stand beside me while I use the bucket. I know there’s nowhere to run.”

“I’ll go where I please. You’re a sly little cunt, talking to me and trying to fuck with my head. You throw another shitty look, and I’ll take that poker and blind you with it.”

My chest swells with pride. My wife is smart as hell. She saw Silvio’s mental state beginning to crumble and took a sledgehammer to it. What a woman.

A floorboard creaks beneath me, but the rambling continues uninterrupted. A slice of yellow light cuts the darkness; the lounge door is ajar, and that’s where I need to be.

I hold the gun upright and kick the door open.

“Don’t move,” I yell, taking aim at Silvio. “You so much as twitch, and I’ll blow your head off.”

Quinn sits motionless in Bianca’s armchair, a bundle of tape at her ankles. Silvio must have just got done removing it. He’s standing beside her, the muzzle of his Desert Eagle pressed between her eyes.

The sight almost brings me to my knees in terror. If he kills my love right in front of me, both he and I will also die in this room.

“Kill him, Roman,” Quinn says, her voice strangely calm.

Silvio ignores her and addresses me. “Good evening. I heard your pathetic attempt to sneak up on me. You let Ricky Lubomski go, I take it?”

I draw a deep, shuddering breath, grasping to control my emotions. It goes against every instinct I have not to tear the man to shreds, but Quinn needs me to keep myself in check if she’s to have any chance of walking away from this.

---