Page 55 of The Mafia's Quadruplets

“Already on it, boss.” He arches a brow. “What about Ms. Bennett? Should we increase her protection?”

I pause, considering Claire. The thought of her in danger makes my chest tighten. “Yes, but discreetly. I don’t want to alarm her.”

As the last traces of the crime scene disappear, I turn to face the water. “Matvey wants a war,” I mutter, more to myself than to Dmitri. “He’s about to get one.”

“What’s our next move?” asks Dmitri.

I turn back to him, my decision made. “We hit them where it hurts. Their shipment coming in next week… I want it gone.”

Dmitri’s eyes widen slightly. “That’s a big move, boss. It could escalate things quickly.”

“Good. I’m done playing defense. It’s time Matvey learns the same lesson Ansily learned about what happens when you cross the Rostovas.”

As we walk back to our cars, I think of Claire. Her safety has suddenly become my top priority, even above retaliation against the Petrovs. It’s a realization that both unsettles and strengthens me.

I return to my penthouse, mulling over plans for retaliation against the Petrov Syndicate. The deaths of my men demand swift and decisive action. I pace the length of my office, considering my options when my phone rings. Dmitri’s name flashes on the screen.

Before I can answer, the door slams open. Claire bursts in, her face ashen and eyes wide with fear. “Jay’s been beaten,” she says, her voice trembling. “He’s in the hospital. What the hell happened, Valerian? Did they target him because of you?”

My heart clenches at the sight of her panic. I answer the call, putting it on speaker. “Dmitri, go ahead.”

Dmitri’s voice crackles through the line. “Boss, I just got word Jay Bennett was attacked in prison. He’s been taken to the hospital.”

Claire’s eyes widen further, her suspicions confirmed. I curse under my breath. Our guard and cellmate informants are useless if they can’t give us advanced warning.

“The prison notified Claire’s parents,” Dmitri continues. “It’s bad, boss. Broken ribs, possible internal bleeding. Probably needs surgery.”

I meet Claire’s gaze, keeping my voice steady despite the storm raging inside me. “Thanks, Dmitri.” I hang up, never looking away from her. “I don’t know all the details yet, but I’ll make sure you and your parents are safe. I’m going to stop them before they do more damage.”

Her expression falters as raw emotion flashes in her eyes. I see there’s something deeper, a fear she’s not voicing. “What is it?”

She shakes her head quickly, trying to hide it. “I’m just scared,” she admits, her voice quiet but firm.

I step closer, wanting to reach for her, but I hold back. I want her to reach for me, but she doesn’t, which hurts. She’s the one person who’s broken through the walls I’ve built for years, and now, with everything falling apart, I’m already too far gone. “I’ll handle this.” For Claire, I would burn down the world.

Claire’s gaze locks onto mine, filled with a touch of fear but mostly determination. “I need to go to the hospital,” she says, her voice stronger now. “I have to see Jay.”

I nod, already reaching for my coat. “I’m coming with you.”

She blinks, surprise flitting across her features. “You don’t have to?—”

“I do,” I interrupt. “Your safety is my priority now. Where you go, I go.”

A ghost of a smile touches her lips. “I didn’t even really consider that you wouldn’t come.”

The admission makes my chest tighten in a way I’m not used to. I push the feeling aside, focusing on the task at hand. “Dmitri, have a car brought around, and increase security at the hospital. I want our people on every entrance and exit.”

“Will do, boss,” he says before ending the call.

I guide Claire out of the office, my hand hovering near the small of her back without actually touching her. The elevator ride down to the garage is tense, filled with unspoken words and shared glances.

As we step out, I spot Viktor waiting by the sleek black SUV. He nods in acknowledgment, opening the rear door for us.

Claire slides in first, and I follow, sitting close enough to feel the heat radiating from her body. The car pulls out of the garage, merging seamlessly into the flow of traffic.

She’s quiet, and I abruptly blurt out, “I’m sorry,” meaning it more than I’ve ever meant anything in my life. “I never wanted you or your family involved in my conflict with Petrov.”

She looks at me, and I feel exposed under her gaze. “But we are involved now, aren’t we? There’s no going back, and it might not even be because of you.”

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