Page 98 of Stolen By The Bratva King

I’ve been focused on finding my wife—moving, acting, doing. There’s been no space for doubt, no cracks for the intrusive thoughts to slip through.

Until now.Idid this.

“It’s my fucking fault,” I say hoarsely, running a shaking hand through my hair. “I’m sorry I frightened you—you’ve had enough of that for one night.”

Jess exhales sharply. “You look like you’re gonna throw up too, Leon.” She shakes her head, exhaustion in every line of her body. “You really do love Emery, don’t you?”

“I do.” The words barely make it past the tightness in my throat. “God help me, yes, I do.”

I stand and help her to her feet. “I’ll find her if I have to burn this entire city to the ground. Fuck knows it deserves it.”

My phone rings. I almost drop it in my haste to answer.Please, let it be her.

But it’s Roman.

“Viktor and I followed you,” he says. “We’re parked outside. What the fuck are you doing?”

I grip the phone too hard. “Someone took Emery. And the kid.”

Saying it aloud burns it into me like a brand, and a roar tears from my throat as I slam my fist into a locker, denting the metal.

This is it.This is the moment that breaks me.

“I’ll tear myself to pieces if she’s dead, Roman. I will be a one-man war machine. The sky will fall on this shithole city, I swear to God?—”

“Leon.Tovarishch.” Roman’s calm tone cuts through my spiraling rage. “What did you tell me when Quinn was taken?”

I exhale shakily. “To keep my head on a swivel. Use the bratva, stay on task, and bring the whole sorry mess to a close as quickly and cleanly as possible.”

“Correct.” Roman’s voice is iron. “So what’s to do, brat?”

Five minutes later, Jess is in Viktor’s car, on her way home to collect her son and take an impromptu trip across to her parent’s place in Baltimore.

Someone realized Desi was missing, and the cops were called, but when they saw me and Roman sitting on the wall outside the ER, they knew something was up. I shook my head, and that was all it took.

The officers were polite and efficient, took a few notes, and went away, promising to do everything they could. They will hang back until they discover the bratva’s involvement, but the implications are severe.

This city has been through this before.

Grievances playing out in what should be safe havens, like hospitals. There was a time when high-profile people were afraid to send their kids to school because the city’s underworld had abandoned old codes of honor that held them in check.

The Sicilians who immigrated here all those years ago would be ashamed of what their descendants became, as would the Muscovite old guard who founded the first bratva.

The mobcannotdevolve into those feral ways.

My parents’ deaths radicalized me and made me who I am, and alongside Roman, we made sure innocent people would not get caught up in the war games that play out amongst the elite criminals of New York.

I’ll die to protect that principle. But Emery is caught up in this bullshit, and she wouldn’t be if it weren’t for me.

I stole her from Dante and, in doing so, dragged her from a bad situation to a worse one. I thought my obsession—mylove—would make up for the cesspit of my world, but it wasn’t enough.

I couldn’t protect her.It was the one thing I had to get right, and I failed.

I take out my cell phone and recheck the tracker, but it’s still out of commission. I tap forlornly at the screen, redialling Emery’s number for the hundredth time, wanting only to hear her voice and that sweet laugh on her voicemail.

To my astonishment, the dial tone picks up to silence, the rush of dead air loud in my ear.

Hope is like a stiletto blade in my heart, piercing and keen, and I leap to my feet.

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