Page 77 of The Mafia's Quadruplets

He leans forward, and his eyes are dark and predatory. His smile is a cruel rictus. “Anything I wish, little rabbit.” Somehow, his expression becomes even colder, and his voice is more menacing when he says, “Little rabbit. For hunting…”

The Russian endearment, spoken with such malice, makes my skin crawl. I press myself against the van wall, as far from him as I can get. “Valerian will come for me,” I say, more to reassure myself than to threaten him.

Matvey’s smile widens, revealing teeth that seem too sharp. “I’m counting on that.”

The van takes a sharp turn, throwing me off balance. I brace myself against the wall as my thoughts spiral. I need to stay calm, to think, but terror claws at my throat, threatening to overwhelm me. “Where are you taking me?” I ask, fighting to keep my voice from cracking.

The man, whom I’m sure must be Matvey Petrov, tsks, wagging a finger at me. “Now, now. That would spoil the surprise.”

I glance around the van, searching for anything I can use as a weapon or means of escape, but the interior is bare, save for a few ropes coiled in one corner. The sight of them makes my stomach lurch.

“My parents,” I say, a new wave of fear washing over me. “If you’ve hurt them?—”

“Your parents are fine,” he interrupts, waving a dismissive hand. “For now. Their continued well-being depends entirely on your cooperation.”

I clench my fists as anger surges alongside the fear. “What do you want from me?”

Must-Be-Matvey leans back, crossing his arms over his chest. “It’s not you I want,little rabbit. You’re merely the bait.”

“Bait,” I repeat, the word tasting bitter on my tongue. “For Valerian.”

He nods. “Valerian took someone from me. Now, I’m going to take everything from him.” He gives me a cold smile. “I haven’t ruled out using you to convince Jay Bennett to complete is assignment either, if you survive that long.”

My hand instinctively moves to my stomach, a protective gesture I can’t suppress. A wave of nausea hits me, and I gag but don’t vomit.

Must-Be-Matvey’s gaze follows the movement of my hand, and his brow wrinkles slightly when the sound of gagging fills the van. “Are you feeling unwell?” he asks, his tone mockingly concerned. “I do hope you’re not going to be sick in my van.”

I quickly drop my hand, cursing myself for the slip. “I’m fine,” I snap. “Just nauseated from your company.”

He laughs, and the sound grates against my nerves. “Such spirit. I can see why Valerian is so taken with you.”

The van slows, turning onto what feels like a gravel road. My heart rate picks up as I realize we must be nearing our destination. “Where are we?” I ask, peering out the small, tinted windows. It’s impossible to make out any details due to the deep tinting.

“Patience,little rabbit,” he says. “All will be revealed soon enough.”

The van comes to a stop, and the driver’s door opens and closes. Footsteps crunch on gravel, coming around to the back.

Must-Be-Matvey stands, towering over me in the confined space. “Now, we can do this the easy way or the hard way. Your choice.”

I glare up at him, defiance burning through my fear. “I’m not going anywhere with you.”

He sighs, shaking his head. “Hard way it is, then. Boris?”

The van door swings open, and the hulking brute from earlier appears. Before I can react, he reaches in and grabs me, hauling me out of the van like I weigh nothing.

“Put me down,” I yell, kicking and struggling in his grip.

Boris grunts, tightening his hold. I gasp as the pressure on my ribs makes it hard to breathe.

“Careful with her, Boris,” he says, climbing out of the van. “We need her in one piece. For now.”

I twist my head, trying to get a look at our surroundings. We’re in a clearing, surrounded by dense forest. A massive, crumbling structure is before us, its jagged silhouette rising against the afternoon sunlight, casting a giant and ominous shadow. “Eastern State Penitentiary.” I vaguely remember a high school field trip to the facility years ago. I can see its gothic towers and the weathered stone walls that have stood for nearly two centuries.

“Welcome to your new home,little rabbit,” he says, gesturing grandly toward the looming prison. “At least for the time being.”

Boris carries me toward the entrance, my struggles doing nothing to slow him down. Must-Be-Matvey follows behind, humming a tune that sounds disturbingly cheerful given the circumstances.

As we pass through the iron gate, a flicker of movement catches my attention. A shadow peels away from the crumbling stone, resolving into the shape of a man. Tall and muscled, with a garish gold chain around his neck,bratvatattoos, and a shock of white-blond hair.

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