Page 2 of Forced Bratva Bride

Now that they’d broken the code, my anger beckoned at me to find the culprit and show them a vengeance they’d remember for generations to come.

I crumpled the note in my hand and shoved it far away, getting into my car and slamming the door shut behind me. Immediately, I called the men in charge of my spying network. Though they weren’t a part of our regular payroll, they did their odd jobs in keeping our family updated on the goings and comings of the other Mafia families. If anyone would know which family was responsible for today’s attack, it would be these guys.

***

I drove away from the warehouse, my eyes periodically scanning the side and rearview mirrors. My hands shook as I drove, the fear of what could have happened still resting like embers in my nervous system.

Men could have been killed. I could have been killed. Had I not been there, my brothers could have been killed. The bomb blast was such a grave threat, that I wasn’t stupid enough to believe there wouldn’t be more.

Behind me, in the distance, I saw the headlights of a car. At first, I ignored it, but as I passed one mile, then two, and finally three, and I took a turn yet the headlights remained, I tensed up.

Was I being followed? Who the hell would follow me?

I pulled out my gun and held it between my fingers while I drove, slowing down to allow the car to catch up, just so I could catch a glimpse, a clue. But on slowing, the car slowed too.

I slammed my foot on the accelerator, trying to lose him, but the car behind me did the same. I watched for the turn onto the high street to come into sight and allowed it to be just by my side as I took the unexpected turn, my car swerving in the process. The car following me overshot the turn, giving me space to breathe.

I parked my car in an alleyway to avoid being detected on the main streets and walked a distance to our meeting spot. Twenty minutes later, I was heading down a crowded high street, with early night shoppers and diners providing exactly the kind of cover I needed. I slipped into an alleyway between a high-end boutique and a coffee shop, the passage so narrow that my shoulders nearly brushed both walls.

At the end of the alley stood two men, both leaning against a brick wall. Though they were twins, and most people couldn’t tell them apart, from the years we’d worked together, I had no trouble identifying Marco from Paulo. They’d been our eyes and ears, loyal to our family, as long as they were paid above market rates.

And we made sure to do that.

“We’ve been waiting here a while,” Marco said, kicking off the wall and approaching me.

“I had a warehouse to sweep up,” I frowned. “Someone planted explosives.”

The twins exchanged surprised glances. “When?”

“Just before I called you to meet me. You didn’t hear of any attacks planned against us, did you?” I asked, my voice lowering with a caution, and a warning on how they wished to approach this.

“No,” Paulo said adamantly, without skipping a beat.

“We'd have told you if we had,” said Marco.

I sighed and ran a hand through my hair, knowing that they spoke the truth.

That was an interesting turn of events, though.

The twins knew everything that happened within the Italian families—every grudge, every plan, every alliance. If they hadn't heard about the bombing, it meant either the perpetrators were exceptionally secretive.

“Who do you think it was?” asked Paulo.

“The Italians,” I said.

“How do you know?” frowned Marco.

“They left a message. Called us traitors.”

Marco's eyes narrowed. “The old families have been talking. They don't like the Russian alliance. They say the Lebedevs have forgotten where you came from.”

“We remember exactly where we came from,” I said, my voice hardening. “And where we're going. Who's been the loudest?”

The twins exchanged another look. “The Ajellos,” Paulo said finally. “Gastone has been hosting dinners, inviting the smaller families. There’s been big talk about traditions and unity.”

I crossed my arms and gritted my teeth. Of course the Ajellos had to go around barking against us. They’ve had it out for our family for years, ever since they claimed our great-grandfather wronged theirs three generations ago.

To date, they carried an ancient grudge for an event none of us knew the details of.

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