Page 80 of Stricken

I slump back into the mountain of pillows, only now noticing the familiar luxury surrounding me and an unmistakable view of the Vegas skyline through floor-to-ceiling windows.

"Where are we?" I ask.

"Eclipse," Vlad says, moving back to grab his chair to place by my bed. He settles back.

I frown.

"It's secure. Off the radar," Vlad explains. His eyes are sharp, watchful. "We needed somewhere safe, fast. I didn't have time to get you to my place. And my men are always downstairs and available to protect you in case something happens." His dark tone makes my spine tingle with a sense of unease.

"Do you expect for something to happen? How bad is it?"

Vlad hesitates, then says, "Bad enough that laying low is our best option right now."

I process this, a question nagging at me. "Maurice allows you to use these rooms in his hotel?"

A wry smile crosses Vlad's face. "Let's just say we have a mutually beneficial arrangement. He knows saying no is not in his best interest."

"He doesn't interfere in your business?"

Vlad shakes his head. "Purgatory cleans his money, he turns a blind eye to certain... activities."

"I see," I mutter.

There's a long moment of silence in the room. Vlad's face is unreadable all of a sudden as he stares into the distance, probably calculating the next twenty steps. I swallow hard, trying to dislodge the dry lump in my throat. It's tender and speaking proves to be challenging, but with the reality of the situation sinking in, I need to get as much information as I can. I also need to acknowledge the elephant in the China shop… so to speak. "Vlad, I... Thank you. You saved my life back there."

Vlad's severe gaze softens. "Don't mention it, Romeo. Besides, who else would keep me on my toes?"

His attempt at humor—so divinely rare—loosens the knot in my chest, but anxiety quickly resurfaces. "The shipment," I blurt out, sliding up higher on the pillows despite the dizziness. "Is it safe?"

Vlad leans forward in his chair. The scratch on his cheek catches the light, a violent reminder of our narrow escape. "Relax, Nico. The coke is secure. I made sure of it personally."

"What now?" I ask. "We're trapped here."

"Now, we plan. We survive. And when the time is right, we strike back."

Without warning, Vlad's hand finds mine, his grip both unexpected and welcoming. A surge rushes through me—raw energy blistering under my skin like lightning on the horizon. His fingers are calloused but gentle, and I find myself marveling at how such dangerous hands can feel so calming.

"Nico," he murmurs, his voice rough. "We'll get through this together. I don't want to just leave you like this, injured."

My throat, already in pain, is tight with emotions I can't quite name. The warmth of his skin against mine is strong and feels like home, and I'm acutely aware of how close he is. His steely eyes, usually so guarded, now hold a softness that makes my heart race.

"I need to go home," I say abruptly, tearing my gaze away from his. "Uncle needs to know about Salvatore. About what happened. We have the drugs. That's more proof than enough to destroy my cousin."

Vlad's grip on my hand tightens. "It's too dangerous, Nico." He pauses, his expression shifts. "It was Salvatore who tried to kill us at the warehouse. You can't just waltz back in there. The situation isn't in your favor."

"What?" Shock courses through me. "Salvatore? Are you certain? He set the fire?"

"I wouldn't say it if I wasn't sure. Your cousin wants you dead. I also think he had help."

The words hit me so hard. I'm stupefied, all of sudden, without even moving a muscle. I pull my hand away, running it across my stubbly jaw as I struggle to process the betrayal. I knew Sal was capable of this, but it stings anyway. "Cazzo," I mutter. "I need to warn Tony. This little shit is going to fuck it all up, dealing with shady people like La Alianza. I need to—"

"You need to stay alive," Vlad interrupts, his tone accepting no argument. "Going out there now is suicide."

"I can't just sit here and do nothing."

"I understand your frustration. Trust me, I do. But listen to me for once. While you were out, Ivan dug deep. Salvatore knew about our plans, every detail. He knew we were coming. He let us steal the coke so he could kill us. The warehouse was doused in something flammable. Probably odorless lighter fluid. One of my guys has a connection at the fire department and I got a sample. I checked, and it looks like they do make those odorless fluids. That's why we couldn't smell anything. He was three steps ahead the whole time."

My stomach churns. "How? We were so careful..."

---