Page 273 of Ruins
Wesley’s voice breaks my thoughts and I grimace. He advises that so far, no one has gone after Vasilisa’s sister at Andras we still don’t know what Miroslav is dropping off at the docks, but Wesley has figured out how to intercept Sarkisian’s messages with Miroslav. Wesley is nothing like his brothers—less arrogant, more methodical. We wouldn’t have gotten this far without him. I may just have to give the son of a bitch the collaboration he’s been after.
Everything for tomorrow night is set, from how many men will be at the dock to who we leave with Vasilisa, Katya and Elena, instead of keeping the women together, we decided it’s better to keep them apart. There’s less risk of the Armenians attacking three separate places, plus maintaining their army at the dock. They have to have an inclination that we are on their trail. If they’re smart, they’ll plan for it, but with Wesley intercepting messages, we are one step ahead.
The day stretches on—long, tedious, but productive. Every piece is falling into place. We have the upper hand now.
Tomorrow, this war ends.
After Wesley leaves to prepare, and our men disperse with their orders, I’m left with a weary Angelo and an aloof Maksim. He leans back, feet kicked up on my conference table, his posture relaxed, but I know him better than that. For a man accused of starting this war, he’s keeping his usual cool, calm, collected demeanor.
But his eyes betray him.
They flick toward Angelo in passing glances, but nothing more. Angelo, on the other hand, is easier to read. His tension is obvious, jaw tight, shoulders locked. Something unspoken lingers between them, a weight neither of them wants to acknowledge.
And I feel it too.
“What is it you two aren’t telling me?” I ask.
Angelo meets my eyes for a fraction of a second before smirking and shrugging.
“Nothing little brother. Just preparing Sinner for the take down tomorrow.” He lies through his teeth.
I shift my gaze to Maksim, who meets me head on, unflinching.
“We have this, Amato, the Armenians will be yet another name on the list of enemies who dared to cross us and failed by tomorrow night.” He chuckles, “Why don’t you get home to my cousin and send her my love.”
I glance at Angelo again. My instincts scream at me, they’rehidingsomething.
“If I find out there’s more to this… if my wife’s life was put on the line because of something you’re keeping from me—” I turn back to Maksim, who raises an eyebrow. “I will killbothof you.”
“Santo—” Angelo starts.
“Big words for a man with so much to lose,” Maksim sneers smirking.
I lean back in my seat, holding his gaze. “I dare you to harm my wife, Korsakov.”
His eyes flicker— fear, just for a second before he covers it up with a tight smile.
“You’re mistaken, Santo. Family is important to me,” he replies smoothly, but there’s an edge to his voice that wasn’t there before.
I let the silence stretch, watching as Maksim shifts, just slightly in his seat.
Angelo clasps his hand on Maksim’s shoulder, his grip firm, grounding. A warning, or reassurance… I can’t tell.
They’re both keeping something from me. And I promise myself, I’ll find out what it is for Vasilisa’s sake.
I push back from my seat. “I’m going home.”
I level them both with a final, cold stare.
“I have a fucker in my basement to kill, and a wife to tend to.”
***
A clean shot between the eyes. That’s what Jude Olsen got after a full day of rotting in his own filth and blood, writhing in pain from his shattered bones. A quick death—the closest thing to mercy I could give. A mercy that wasn’t mine, but my beautiful wife’s request. I call Luca and Romeo to handle the body and take the stairs to my goddess.
I find her in the library, paint smudged on her nose, an adorable contrast to the ethereal beauty of her face. She startles when I step inside, immediately covering her easel from my view.
With a sly smile, I prowl toward her. “You shouldn’t hide things from me, Mia Dea.”
