Page 86 of Thorns of Love
THIRTY-ONE
KONSTANTIN
Iknew something was wrong the moment I pulled in front of Marchetti’s Paris home to find him and his men on the sidewalk. Marchetti preferred not to have his men around.
I jumped out of the car, leaving the door open behind me.
“Konstantin,” he said in a cold voice.
“Where is she?” I barked, my eyes flicking to the house, then back to him. “Where are my wife and sister?”
Marchetti grimaced, knowing me well enough to understand that if a single hair was out of place on my wife, I’d go to war with him. I didn’t give a shit that It was an open display of weakness or against the rules of the Omertà.
“Tatiana was kidnapped,” he said. “I heard her screaming, being shoved into the trunk. By the time my men and I got here, the car pulled away.”
My chest tightened and my gut clenched at the thought of my wife in harm's way. I pictured the terror in her eyes and instantly a red mist coated my brain and vision.
The anger, violent and consuming, rushed through me and I lost my shit. With a roar, I slammed my body against Marchetti’s, gripping his collar.
“Porca puttana!” He wasted no time and shoved a Glock to my temple. “Fucking mad Russian.”
“I’ll show you fucking mad,” I bellowed, my gun pointed at his head and pushing him back a foot. “Maybe you’ll care about my warnings then.”
“You better watch yourself, Konstantin,” he snapped. “Calm down before you cross the line.”
“Don’t tell me to calm down,” I roared, shaking him with force while blood rushed in my ears. “And I don’t give a shit about the line.” I had no idea how Marchetti shook me off, I went berserk, hellbent on killing anyone in my path. “She’s pregnant,” I shouted. “All you had to do was keep her with you until I got here.”
I shoved my hands in my hair and pulled hard on the strands. I wouldn’t survive this fucking life without her. Without our babies. It’d destroy me losing her. Break me for good.
“I had a man follow them.” Marchetti's voice came through the rush in the brain.
“We have her on the tracker,” Boris reasoned. “We can find her.”
I’d tear Nikita apart. Skin him alive. Then break every fucking bone in his body.
Fuck!
“There’s something else,” Marchetti said, his voice cool. Unperturbed while I was falling apart at the seams. “Either Adrian has a twin or he’s not dead.”
I stilled and met his gaze. “Adrian? Are you sure?”
“I’d stake my life on it,” he retorted wryly. “Which makes sense now. The videos never stopped coming. Tatiana wasn’t sending them.”
The haze in my brain slowly began to clear. Adrian was alive. He had my wife.
I fixed my suit sleeves and straightened my cuffs. My hands shook for Christ’s sake. I killed men. I killed Isla’s mother. My hands never shook. But the thought of Tatiana being hurt had me shaking.
“Nikita is a traitor,” I said, my voice hoarse. “And he’s Adrian’s cousin.”
“Fuck,” Marchetti muttered. “How long have they been planning this?”
Apparently a very long time. Years. Possibly decades. For fuck’s sake, Nikita had been working for me for decades.
“Where is Isla?” I asked, trying to get myself together.
“She’s locked in a safe room inside.”
I nodded. She shouldn’t be in Marchetti’s house, but I’d be no good to her now. All I could think about was my wife in Adrian’s clutches.
