Page 75 of The Mafia's Quadruplets

I don’t answer. My entire focus narrows to a single point. Lev might still be the key to unraveling this mess, but right now, Claire is the priority.

“Change of plans,” I say, my voice cold. “We’re heading to the mansion. Now.”

Viktor nods, immediately rerouting us while Dmitri speaks in low tones before hanging up his phone. He meets my gaze in the visor. “Neither Ivan nor Sergei have checked in, boss.”

I curse as the city blurs past the windows. I’m already calculating the fastest way to track down Claire. Claire could be at Bloom House, the mall, myriad other stores, or anywhere in between. I need eyes on all locations, now.

“Dmitri, check in with the surveillance team on Claire’s parents.”

“On it, boss.” Dmitri’s already lifting his phone after dialing. He looks at me less than a minute later. “Straight to voicemail.”

I pull out my own phone, scrolling through recent calls. There—the number Matvey used. I dial Yuri.

“I don’t have anything new yet?—”

“I need you to trace a number,” I interrupt. “Now.”

I rattle off the digits, listening to the clack of keys in the background. “It’s a burner,” he says after a moment, “But I can triangulate the last known location.”

“Do it.”

The rapid clicking of Yuri’s keyboard fills the line as I wait, my fingers drumming against the leather armrest. The Mercedes glides through downtown Philadelphia traffic, Viktor’s expert driving keeping us moving despite the congestion.

“Got it,” he says. “The signal’s coming from Market Street, near Independence Mall. Looks like it’s moving east.”

Matvey’s words echo in my head.“You never know who might stop by for a bouquet.”

I grit my teeth. He wouldn’t be so bold. Would he?

“How far out are we?” I ask Dmitri.

“Ten minutes to the mansion, boss.”

I nod, my decision made. “Change course. We’re heading downtown.”

He looks at me through the rearview mirror. “You sure? We don’t know what we’re walking into.”

“It doesn’t matter. We’ll handle it.”

As we speed through the streets, I check my gun, ensuring it’s loaded. The familiar weight of the Makarov PM is soothing. Matvey crossed a line. If he’s touched Claire, there won’t be a hole deep enough for him to hide in. I’ll burn his entire empire to the ground if that’s what it takes.

I’d planned to do that anyway, to end the threat from him entirely, but it might not be so precise any longer. Instead, his end might be brutal and messy. I’m grinning savagely at the thought.

28

Claire

Ipush through the swinging door, my palms sweating against the cool metal. The hinges squeak, breaking the stillness. “Mom? Dad?” The fluorescent lights flicker overhead, casting uneven shadows across the storage shelves lined with vases and ribbons.

The usual bustle of Bloom House’s back room, my mother humming as she arranges flowers, or my father’s pencil scratching against order forms, is gone. Only the monotonous hum of refrigerator units and the mechanical tick-tick-tick of the ancient wall clock fill the void.

My shoes squeak against the linoleum as I move deeper into the room. The break room table stands abandoned. A navy ceramic mug, my mother’s favorite, sits half-empty. A quick touch reveals the coffee is cold. She never leaves her coffee unfinished.

The door to my father’s office hangs open, just enough to reveal a slice of darkness within. The brass nameplate reading “Robert Bennett” glints dully.

“Mom? Dad?” My whisper scrapes against the silence as I edge closer to the office, each step careful and measured. “Are you in there?” My ragged breathing seems impossibly loud in the stillness.

I reach for the brass doorknob, my fingers quivering against the cold metal. The door creaks open, and the sound stops my breath mid-inhale.

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