Page 38 of No Promises, No Lies

I nod.

“Yeah, she was home from school on holiday, a couple of weeks before graduation. But she was supposed to be at the rink. It was only luck that Rory survived it. She spent weeks in the hospital.” He looks between us before uttering the words, “Car bomb.” My jaw clenches. Our father was killed the same way.

“That’s a tough go,” Liam whispers, his eyes on me.

“Yeah, but most mafia kids have similar sad tales.” Koen shakes his head, reminding us not to feel bad for our enemy. “It only makes her more valuable as a bargaining chip. Adrik clearly cares for her.” He levels a glare in my direction.

That’s fair.“It’s not like I knew I was bringing Aurora Kostalova into our family home, Koen.” I turn back to Alex. “How close are she and Adrik? Would he have confided anything in her?”

It’s been weeks since the hit on our father. Alex hasn’t been able to turn up any concrete evidence to prove it was Adrik, other than Declan O’Rourke’s death being advantageous for the Bratva.The skin trade within the city, which our father was firmly against, had exploded in the wake of his death. Hockey season’s right around the corner and I need this shit wrapped the fuck up.

“I don’t know.” Alex shrugs. “I’m hardly ever allowed in the house and they’re never out in public together. She never talks about him. They could be, but it’s hard to say. Adrik’s a hard guy to read.”

He’s got that right. Adrik’s most dangerous quality is that no one ever knows how he’s going to react. When you think he’s going to bob, he weaves, and when you think he’s about to weave, he blows all of it to pieces.

Koen stands up, checking the time on his watch. “Aidan, you keep working her over. If she knows anything, we need to get it out of her.” He swings his head in Alex’s direction. “It’s good to finally know what the fuck you do for the Russians, Alex. But we did say ‘need-to-know’.”

Getting Alex as far as we have into the Bratva has been no simple task. When his mother died, our parents took him in, raising the lad right alongside us. But around the age of fifteen, his father suddenly made an appearance. Fresh off the boat from Russia, he took his son away from the Irish, ensuring the Bratva would toughen him up.

But Alex’s loyalties remain with us, and he’s happy to play both sides of the coin. It’s a risky job, should his duality be discovered.

Koen continues, “I will see what kind of deal we might extract from Adrik using our little bargaining chip.”

I nod in agreement, though my thoughts are elsewhere.

“Aidan and I need to get the fuck to practice before Coach benches both our asses.” Liam closes his laptop and starts herding me toward the door.

“No one goes into that room until I get back.” I don’t move until each one of them agrees.

Aurora Kostalova ismine.

Mine alone to deal with.

23

HELP!

RORY

Imust have fallen asleep because when I open my eyes, it’s so dark I can barely see. The only light filling the room is from the garden outside. The string lights scattered throughout the trees cast a soft glow through the windows.

My shoulders ache from my arms being stretched out over my head all night. I move my head from side to side as I again test out my restraints. I’d spent hours screaming and tugging on them. My wrists are raw from my efforts and I can see blood smeared across the white sheets beneath them. The slight spinning sensation in my head as I move has me instantly on edge.

No.

The stupid headaches have plagued me since my concussion last year. I can’t get a migraine now, not while I’m stuck on my back on this mattress. There isn’t enough slack in the chains to fully roll from one side to the other.

Lifting my head, I let out a groan when my vision suddenly dips and rolls. The vertigo quickly worsens. The room spins around me, and I choke on a stifled sob.

“Help.” My little plea is far too soft for anyone to hear. Not that anyone would come, anyway.

I shut my eyes tight, but the sensation of moving follows me. It’s work to clear my throat enough to try again, fighting a cotton feeling in my mouth, my throat hoarse and scratchy from hours of screaming.

“Help.” My cry is a little louder this time, but nowhere near loud enough. Swallowing hard, I lift my head and project my voice, this time achieving the volume I need. “Help, someone, please!” I call, a newfound desperation in my voice.

When my stomach rolls, another sob escapes me, along with a few tears. They stream down my cheek and into my ear. Lifting my head again costs me. The spinning worsens, and nausea becomes a brand new concern.

I need my medicine. Ineedit. Ever since the accident, I carry it with me always. A grade 3 concussion can fuck with you long term. The migraines are one of thecomplicationsthat have lingered. They’ve improved, but I’m fairly certain stress is a trigger.And I’m fucking stressed.

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