Page 58 of Cruel Existence

“Amato hasn’t been out lately. But his daughter has.”

My chest seized up at the mention of her.

“Are you saying you’re close?” I demanded. I wanted him to be fucking dead and buried in his family plot in Philly.

Maksim sighed. “Nik is prepared to take the girl at any moment. She’s at the Vieux Carre now with her bodyguard. He’s going to be a problem.”

“Remember the assignment. The one who killed Ivan goes with his boss.”

Maksim chuckled. “That shouldn’t be so hard. He stays with the old man. But her bodyguard? Fuck. He’s a walking fortress. I don’t know what Nik will do to get around him.”

I gritted my teeth together. They could not fuck this up. I wouldn’t risk Amara getting hurt. It was the entire reason I had left. Why I had taken on the assassination plot.

“Nik needs to find a way. If she is harmed in any way, you both will go back to Bratva training. Do you fucking hear me?”

“Yes, sir.” He wouldn’t argue with me any further.

I looked toward the moon hovering overhead. The phone pressed to my ear.

The first swirl looked like a wisp of clouds, hanging too low to the barn closest to the vineyard. I squinted to study the odd formation. Shit. It wasn’t a cloud. It was smoke. Plumes of gray. Thickening by the second. Covering the horizon and the roofline of the cottage up ahead.

“Fuck. Maks, I have to go. Now.” I shoved my phone in my pocket.

I dropped my jacket and began to sprint. I passed the second gate to the side path that circled the north vineyard. I choked as I ran into a low cloud. Where was it coming from?

“Monsieur Novikov!”

Peter waved his arms wildly. I changed course and met him on the path. He was as out of breath as I was. He gasped several times before I could get him to focus.

“What the hell is happening?” I screamed. “Where did it start? Did you call the fire department?” I tried to intersperse French with my Russian and English, but I couldn’t catch up to the words.

His face was covered in black streaks of ash.

“Peter.” I shook his shoulders.

“Oui. Pompiers.” The firefighters. That was something, but I didn’t hear the engines. The only thing I heard was the roaring fire.

“Where are my men?” I raged. The Bratva cadets should be here helping.

I dropped my grip on him and turned toward the building that was now engulfed inflames.

“The champagne, Peter! The grapes!” I rushed forward but was immediately shoved backward. I hit the gravel drive roughly. I reached for the knife tucked in my boot. “What the fuck,” I snarled. “That’s my office. This is my vineyard.”

It wasn’t Peter standing over me, it was a man in a dark blue uniform. The baton in his fists explained how he had knocked me on my back. I spotted a motorbike leaning on its side. He was the first to arrive on the scene from the local emergency dispatch.

“Stay.” He eyed me.

I dusted myself off as the truck pulled into view and the pompiers dismounted and started pulling the hoses over their shoulders. The man barked orders at the team. They began to surround the stone cottage.

Peter and I watched from a distance while they began to line up.

“What happened?” I asked the vineyard manager. “How did the fire start?”

He shook his head. “I’m not sure. I was in the cellars and when I came back up, there was smoke. I grabbed my phone and ran outside.”

“How long ago?” I pressed.

The Frenchman shrugged. “Twenty minutes?”

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