Page 67 of Stricken

"What do you want to do, Romeo?" Vlad asks in a hushed, serious voice.

I run a hand through my hair, my mind racing. "We need to move these drugs. These are millions of dollars."

"Agreed. I would move it too, but it's easier said than done," Vlad mutters. "This place is a fortress with all these cargo around. We can't just waltz out with kilos of coke under our arms."

"How about hiring someone to do it for us?" I throw out the first dumb idea. I bet there are people who could move this quickly, quietly?"

"Why do we need to hire someone?" Vlad pauses. "The Hellhounds," he says, his expression unreadable in the scant light from his phone pouring upward. "My crew. They can do miracles when it comes to... redistribution of goods."

"Vlad, I can't–"

"They're discreet. Loyal. And they owe me more than a few favors."

I run a hand over my face, torn. Teaming up with Vlad's men? Tony would have my head if he knew. But the alternative...

"This isn't just about the drugs anymore, is it?" Vlad's voice softens, barely audible over the hum of distant chaos that sparklers caused. "It's about protecting your family. From within."

I meet his gaze, finding unexpected understanding there. "I have to confront Tony. Tell him what Salvatore's done. But if I go empty-handed..."

"You need leverage," Vlad finishes. "Proof." He tips his chin to the bag of coke still in my hands. I realize that going to Tony with this would be smart, but if we are pulled over with a kilo by the cops, it will be troublesome. And it may spook Salvatore. So I put the package back into the box.

Vlad steps closer, his presence both comforting and electrifying, his body mere inches away. "Let me help you, Nicola Morelli. No strings attached."

I close my eyes, weighing the risks against the necessity. When I open them, my decision is made.

"Let's do it."

CHAPTER23

VLAD

The city lights dance in the distance, flickering promises across an unassuming night sky, as Nico guides the Audi down the darkened highway. Sitting in the passenger seat, I watch those distant embers smolder and spark. But my mind conjures a different flame.

Salvatore Morelli. His machinations are like a wildfire, razing stability to ash and leaving only chaos in his wake. The Morelli empire teeters on a knife's edge, and my father's ghost stirs in the shadows of my mind, whispering deadly temptations.

This is your chance, Vladimir.

Yuri's voice slithers through my thoughts, cold and calculating.

The Italians are vulnerable. Strike now, and their empire will crumble like a house of cards.

I clench my jaw, battling the insidious pull of his words. The same poison once flowed through my own veins, a thirst for power and control that's part of Solovey blood. But now, a different desire pulses beneath my skin.

Nico.

I turn my head slightly and look at him as if needing to see his face to shake off the hold Yuri still has on me. Nico tightly holds onto the steering wheel. The tension radiates off him in waves, a silent storm brewing behind those blue eyes. My heart twists, caught between the man I want to be and the monster I was born to become.

To seize power or protect what matters most? The age-old question continues to purr in my ear in my father's terrifying voice, voice I'm trying so hard to shake off.

The confines of the Audi cocoon us in a misleading bubble of intimacy where the engine's steady hum is a lullaby and where shadows leaping across Nico's face, cast by the soft glow of the dashboard lights, turn his skin into a magical canvas. In this space, suspended between destinations, the rest of the world fades away, leaving only the electric crackle.

Is there no chance for us at all in this life?

Before I know it, Nico spins the wheel and steers us off the main road, the tires crunching against gravel as he pulls over to the curb. The abrupt stillness is jarring. He shifts in his seat to face me, his expression an inscrutable mix of worry and determination.

"Vlad," he begins, "you don't need to go any further with this. My family's problems are not yours to bear."

I search his face, my gaze tracing the lines of concern etched into his brow. "Nico, I–"

---