Page 8 of Ruined

I set the bag down next to a geranium that still lived despite the frost. She led me through her cramped unit to the sliding glass door in her kitchen. It overlooked a small yard.

I crouched, inspecting the cheap plastic latch screwed onto the frame. It didn’t line up with the strike plate.

“You need a new lock. This thing’s falling off.”

“I don’t know how to install those,” she admitted.

“I’ll get you one this weekend.” I pulled out my multi-tool, tightened the screws, and adjusted the plate, making sure the latch slid into place. Not perfect, but it’d hold for a while.

“You’re all set.”

She brightened. “You’re a good man, Luca.”

I’m not.I gave her a tight smile and grabbed my bag.

She grinned. “When you come back, I’ll make you a drink. Negronis! I have a fresh pitcher in the fridge.”

A vague memory stirred of amber-colored drinks on Christmas. That’d been my family’s tradition before the Bratva ripped themaway. I reunited with my cousins after fourteen years apart a few months ago, but they were strangers.

Santino’s wife, Delilah, was the only person who might’ve understood me. I met her shortly after my abduction. A Pakhan’s daughter, locked in the same gilded cage, her bruises hidden under dresses while mine were out for the world to see. She’d been my only real friend in Providence.

We’d grown up in the same hell, but while she’d found some peace, I’d been left with ghosts.

The bag weighed heavy on my shoulder. “Thanks, but I can’t tonight.”

“Always busy.” She tsked her tongue. “There’s more to life than working, Luca. You’d do better to find yourself a nice lady. Settle down and be happy.”

I forced a smile. “Maybe one day.”

I stepped into the cold night. She locked the door and yanked the curtains shut.

I climbed into my car, gripping the wheel.

Do I make you uncomfortable?

Soon, Dominic would be nothing more than a bad memory.

The bastard wouldn’t see it coming.

I headed straight to Dominic’s.

He lived in an apartment in Back Bay, a swanky place where the façades were all brick and wrought iron. His was on the top floor. I hated how much I admired it.

A keypad guarded the building’s main entrance. A camera sat above, glaring at the street. I wasn’t stupid enough to try the front door.

The fire escape was a different story. I scaled the fence in the alley and shimmied up the rusted ladder. The reinforced back door was tricky. Amateur burglars would’ve walked away.

But I had skill. The Bratva made sure of it.

I crouched on the landing, pulling a small kit from my duffel bag. I shuffled through my picks. The deadbolt took longer than I liked. Whoever installed it knew what they were doing.

The bolt gave a satisfying click. The latch did not want to obey. Dominic had thought about someone getting this far. Luckily, I had a workaround. I wedged a thin piece of plastic between the door and the frame. It took a few tries, but the latch slid back.

The door swung open.

My eyes adjusted to the dim light. The faint scent of cologne and leather filled the air, clinging to the walls like his shadow. My heart hammered.

Stay calm. Control your breathing.

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