Page 110 of Stolen By The Bratva King

I can’t hide the truth; it’s written all over my face. Reggiani frowns, but then he figures it out, and his smirk breaks into a shit-eating grin of pleasure.

“You fucking loser,” he says. “You really do love her, don’t you?”

Yes, I do.

Oh God, help me.I want tolive.

57

Emery

The track is bumpy and poorly lit, but I can’t slow down. Desi is strapped into the back, coughing occasionally but otherwise fine despite the car flinging him around.

Go to my father.That’s all Icando—Demyan will be there, and he can call Roman and whoever else. They’ll bring all the savage fury of the bratva out here and?—

It’ll be too late, that’s what. Leon came to save me, but he knew he’d die; he planned for it. The gun was insurance for Desi and me, not him.

Leon is dead.

I found love and lost it in the cruelest way possible. How can I go on? What is there to live for?

Desi’s hacking chest pulls me back from my thoughts, and I call out to him.

“It’s okay,” I say. “We’re gonna get help. Just hold on.”

I glance in the rearview mirror to see him giving me a thumbs up, a weak smile on his dirt-smudged face, and I feel the tears flowing again.

I’ll ensure this little boy is safe if it’s the last thing I do. I’m the wife—no, thewidow—of a Russian mafia boss, and I’ll be damned if I’m gonna let his hard work go to waste. There must be a way to do more for innocent people swallowed up by the city’s dark underbelly.

I wipe my eyes on my sleeve and shake my head, trying to clear it.

Stay with it, Emery.Leon believed in you, so don’t make a liar of him. You can do this.

A blinding flash dazzles me as I turn a corner, and I slam on the brakes, making Desi yelp in shock. I blink away the dancing spots and realize I nearly hit a car coming the other way.

We can’t escape. Leon will die believing he saved me, never suspecting Desi and I would be intercepted and murdered.

Or will Reggiani make me look the man I love in the eyes before he kills me? I can see him now, savoring Leon’s pain like a fine wine.

Two men exit the vehicle, and I close my eyes. Then I hear a voice I know, and almost faint with relief.

“Leon, what the fuck is—Emery!” Roman opens the driver’s side door. “Where is he? What’s going on?”

“Don Reggiani.” I clutch at Roman’s lapels, hardly daring to believe he’s real. “He’s alive. And he’s Dante’s father.”

“You have got to be fucking kidding.”

“Nope. He made a deal with Leon, told him to come here tonight alone and unarmed, and he’d let me live.”

Roman looks utterly bereft for a moment, then punches the door, cutting his knuckle.

“The lying fucker,” he says. “He sent me and Viktor running all over for nothing.”

“How did you know where to find us?” I ask.

Roman thumbs over his shoulder at Viktor. “I got him to stick a tracker on this car. Leon was drinking like a goddamn hobo, and I couldn’t get him to hand over his keys, but I got worried he’d drive drunk. He’d never normally do that, but if he thought he had a lead on your whereabouts, who knows?”

“So you saw he was on the move and followed him out here?”

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