Page 23 of Secret Bratva Twins

The restaurant is a masterpiece of luxury, its quiet elegance a perfect mask for the Bratva’s darker dealings. The golden glow from the chandeliers reflects off polished marble floors, and the murmurs of wealthy patrons fill the air. Every table is a stage for a different play—some genuine, some far from it. At my table, the act is particularly precarious.

Lorenzo Vinci sits across from me, stiff and trying too hard to appear unbothered. His fingers tap against his wine glass, the faint tremor betraying his nerves. He’s a man out of his depth, attempting to negotiate with a shark in open water.

I take a slow sip of whiskey, letting the silence stretch just long enough to make him squirm. Finally, I lean back and set the glass down with deliberate care. “You said you had her whereabouts,” I say, my voice low and controlled. “I’m listening.”

Lorenzo clears his throat, his gaze darting to the side before meeting mine. “She’s in Montana. A small, rural town, far from any major cities. Quiet. Secluded.”

I narrow my eyes, searching his face for any sign of deceit. “Did she tell you that herself?”

He shakes his head quickly. “No. We tracked Dante. He’s been making trips to a little town there. It wasn’t hard to connect the dots. Chiara doesn’t trust many people, but Dante… he’s always been her shadow. Wherever she goes, he follows.”

The mention of Dante sparks fresh irritation. That loyal dog of hers has been a thorn in my side for years, always one step ahead, always protecting her from the consequences of her actions. My jaw tightens as I consider the implications.

“Dante,” I repeat, my tone sharp enough to make Lorenzo flinch. “He’s been shielding her all this time. You call that irrelevant?”

Lorenzo raises a hand in a placating gesture. “I’m not saying he’s irrelevant. Just that the focus should be on Chiara. Dante is a symptom. She’s the disease.”

The corner of my mouth twitches in a humorless smirk. “That’s where you’re wrong, Vinci. Dante’s not a symptom; he’s a problem. I solve problems.”

Lorenzo swallows hard, shifting in his seat. He’s afraid of me, and he should be. He presses on, desperate to secure his deal. “The important thing is, she’s been found. I’ve done my part. Now it’s your turn to hold up your end of the bargain.”

I chuckle, leaning forward and fixing him with an unblinking stare. “You’ll get what you want, Lorenzo. The partnership will move forward. Consider it a token of my appreciation for finally delivering something useful.”

He nods, though his unease is palpable. “Good. I expect results.”

I take another sip of whiskey, the glass cool against my fingertips. “You’ll get them,” I say smoothly, watching as he stands and straightens his jacket. He hesitates for a moment, then walks away, disappearing into the crowd of diners.

As soon as he’s gone, I pull out my phone and dial Roman. He picks up on the second ring. “What’s the word?” he asks, his tone as steady as ever.

“Ready the jet,” I reply, my voice cold and clipped. “We’re taking a trip to Montana.”

There’s a pause, and then Roman speaks again, his tone carrying a hint of curiosity. “You’ve got her location?”

“I do,” I say, my fingers tightening around the phone. “I’m done waiting.”

Roman doesn’t ask any more questions. He knows better. “I’ll have everything ready within the hour.”

“Good,” I say, ending the call and slipping the phone back into my pocket.

I rise from the table, my movements deliberate and controlled. As I make my way through the restaurant, I pass diners engaged in their own conversations, blissfully unaware ofthe storm brewing in my mind. The opulence around me feels hollow, a facade that barely masks the darkness beneath.

Chiara thought she could run. Thought she could hide in some forgotten corner of the world. Thought she could poison me and disappear without a trace.

I step out into the crisp night air, the city lights casting a faint glow against the dark sky. My lips curl into a predatory smile. She underestimated me. They all do.

Roman is waiting by the car when I arrive, his expression as calm and composed as always. He opens the door for me without a word, and I slide into the backseat, the leather cool against my skin.

“She’s in Montana?” Roman asks as he gets into the driver’s seat and starts the car.

“Some rural town. Dante’s been going back and forth, and that’s all the confirmation I need.”

Roman glances at me in the rearview mirror. “You sure you’re ready for this? It’s been four years. She might not even be the same person anymore.”

I let out a low chuckle, the sound devoid of humor. “Oh, I’m counting on that. People don’t change, Roman. Not really. They just become better at hiding their true selves. Chiara? She’s still my little prey, whether she wants to admit it or not.”

Roman doesn’t respond, his focus shifting back to the road. The silence between us is heavy, but it’s not uncomfortable. He knows me well enough to understand when I’m not in the mood for small talk.

As we drive through the city, my thoughts drift to Montana. To Chiara. To the reckoning that awaits her. She thought she could outsmart me, that she could escape the consequences of her actions.

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